#men who claim to not dance but do indeed dance

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[nightskyslayer2]

Aegon claiming his sister in the most filthy way possible, wanting to make her his forever after years of tolerating seeing her with other men and finding a potential suitor at the recently held feast.

Aegon x sister!reader (super freaking filthy) 18+ SMUT

Y/n was kneeling infront of her brother, him looking down at her with pure lust and love. Gods forbid how much he loved his sister. “You’re so beautiful” he said in a dreamy voice with a few seconds of silence between it before slapping her cheek in a punishing manner. Aegon grinned, carefully inspecting the red mark he now had left on her and grabbed her by the chin. “Don’t you ever talk to him again”

Today the Targaryens had held a feast in order to find any potential suitors for y/n. To many peoples surprise she had actually danced with some quite nice lords but Aegon on the other hand couldn’t stand it at all. Especially when the Starks eldest son seemed to be very interested and nice towards his lovely sister. They talked and laughed together for some time and y/n even seemed to enjoy his company. Aegon just watched them in disbelief and jealousy.

It has to be said that it was quite hard to find suitors for the targaryen princess, as it’s almost everywhere known that the young girl is rather rebellious and adventurous, especially when it comes to sexual interactions. She had been seen several times at the flea bottom whore house and almost through the whole red keep there were spread many rumours that her older brother Aegon had laid with her too. Alicent had completely lost her hopes for her uncontrollable daughter many years ago, so when the young Stark lord showed interest in her earlier she got so incredibly relieved and happy for her, thinking her reputation could be saved with marriage.

But Aegon had a different opinion on that. He was in love with his little sister for probably his entire life. He loved the fact she was so rebellious and different than the rest of the boring people at the red keep. They had a great friendship throughout their childhood, always close and near one another and when they grew older they found new exiting ways to have fun with each other. Aegon was indeed the first one she had ever had a sexual encounter with and to no ones surprise the one who took her maidenhood quite early. Alicent and Viserys despised them for a very long time but they couldn’t do anything about it. They had each other’s back. Always.

Y/n did sleep and fuck with other men too, at brothels or taverns, some guards even, but Aegon always happened to grow so jealous of them. He wanted her to himself. Every single part of her.

“You’re such a whore of a sister but I fucking love it.” Y/n looked up at her brother, her cheek still stinging from his slap but it gave her some sort of pleasure. She loved the way Aegon was with her. Just the sexual tension between them made her feel absolutely thrilled and indescribably horny. She had fucked many men but nobody did it like Aegon does. The siblings had such big desire for each other, absolutely devoted to see one another in filth and excitement at any daytime and at any place they were at. The gardens, the carriage, the kitchen, they even fucked once on the iron throne when everyone was asleep.

Aegon quickly got rid of his belt and undid his pants, giving his sister little to no time to prepare for what’s coming next. He bit his lip as she immediately opened her mouth wide for him and he rammed his cock down her throat, clawing his hands into her soft white hair. Aegon held her tight and made sure every inch of his hard cock was down her throat. He didn’t care about her tearing up nor her desperate gagging. He just wanted y/n to please him fully. He loved the sounds she made and the vibrations of her voice. He grinned down at his cock drunk sister and growled, hands now forcefully guiding her head off of him.

“Look at you” he said while already slightly creaming at the sight of her drool and tear covered face looking up at him. “I love to see you suffering, I fucking love to see the pain in your stupid fucking face whist you still eagerly provide me pleasure.” he gently caressed her red wet cheek, his eyes going all soft and vulnerable at the sight of her happy exhausted face expression. “So happy and pretty with your head all empty for me”

He then threw her on the bed, stomach first, grabbing his sisters ankles and yanking her near the edge of it where he was still standing. He didn’t care and he didn’t want to wait any longer so he ripped her dress apart, making y/n squirm in shock. Aegon then hummed and slightly moaned while guiding his palm up her bare back. “So so beautiful…” he praised under his breath as he looked at her aching and wetness leaking cunt. Y/ns head was still spinning from the lack of oxygen but she was more than ready for the filth that was about to hit any second.

“I’ll give you all of me if you give me all of you” Aegon whispered in her neck as his fingers gently played with her hot cunt. Y/n squeezed her eyes shut in pleasure and pushed her ass back into him, wanting to feel more and closer to her brother. Aegon chuckled in response, his already hurting cock in his free hand, ready to provide them both with the pleasure they were so desperately seeking in each other.

The oldest Targaryen didn’t even hesitate, slammed all the way into his sister and held himself as deep as possible inside of her. Both of them crying out in satisfaction. He reached for y/ns underbelly, slightly pulling her up against his torso while pressing down onto her to make sure she took every last inch of him. He felt his cock pushing inside of her with his hands pressed on her abdomen, making both of them moan out loud when he pressed onto it. Her warmth and tightness made him immediately twitch inside of her. Y/ns eyes rolled back as her head fell onto the mattress and Aegons short nails digged into her ass cheeks. He hummed into her back, still trying to reduce any separation of her and him.

He desired the complete and utter domination over his sister, he wanted to make her his, he wanted to mark her with his cock and cum so no other man would ever allow himself near her again. He wanted to bind his sister to him, showing her that all the shitty men she once had before him were nothing and total losers compared to him.

He slammed his cock into her over and over again, never seeking to stop nor be gentle with her. He grunted and moaned in pleasure. This was all he had ever dreamed of and the fact that y/n seemed to enjoy it just as much made him only go faster and rougher. He fucked her so hard, the young princess wasn’t even capable of finding any words, just laying there getting fucked stupid by her brother. He stuffed her aching cunt full of his cock over and over and he was planning on never missing a day without it ever again.

Of course Aegon was fully intending to release inside of her, breeding her and seeing her full and stuffed with his cum. He wanted to milk her tight hot hole all the time and make her drip and leak of it as much as possible.

Y/n squeezed her brother heavenly as she came around him and dug her nails even deeper into the mattress underneath her. “Aegon please…” is all her empty brain could release from her mouth. Aegon was breathing so heavily, looking down at the red and bloody mess he caused on her burning ass cheeks. “Yes, yes come on me.” he growled as he reached for her head again, forcefully grabbing her by the hair in order to get her mouth to open wide for him. Y/ns toes curled and her thighs began to shake because of the way Aegon still fucked her hard through her high. He looked down at her crying state, blank eyes looking back into his before he spat into her mouth and threw her head back into the mattress again.

Shorty after he came balls deep inside of her clenching cunt but that still wasn’t enough for him. He still wanted more. He demanded all of her. He pulled out once, just for a second, making both of them whine in loss of each other as he looked at the beautiful creamy mess they made together. He cussed under his breath for a moment and guided his milky shiny cock into her again. He surely wasn’t done with her. He never wanted her to forget what having fun with him felt like. He wanted to give her cunt a beating, a memory of what true pleasure is like, something it’s never gonna forget again and will remember forever. He didn’t want her to ache for others anymore. He was going to be the only one to wreck her like that. Just him. Nobody else ever again.

“I want to give you my cum so fucking bad, every fucking day y/n, it’s yours, only yours to take. As soon as you swell with my child nobody will want you anymore. You’ll be mine. Only mine.”

[kckt88]

Breath Of Doubt.

Summary:

Cerelle Lannister arrives at the Red Keep and immediately sets her sights on Aemond, determined to have him at all costs.

Vaeryna of course is having none of it and unleashes her inner dragon, determined to protect her treasure.

Warning(s): Language, Pranks, Violence, Threats, Kissing, Incest, Voyeurism, Smut - Lactation Kink, Daddy Kink, P in V Sex.

Word Count: - 4242

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

One Shot Take My Breath Away - Takes place six months after the birth of Aegar.

AEMOND X O.C

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @snh96, @immyowndefender,

“Gods this is boring” moaned Jaehaeryn.

“Boy, that’s enough” snapped Aemond as the golden horse drawn carriage came to a stop inside the yard.

“Sorry father” muttered Jaehaeryn, subtly moving closer to his mother.

“What’s she even coming here for anyway?” asked Rhaegar.

“Beats the shit out of me” said Vharla shrugging.

“Language” scolded Vaeryna.

“Oops” squeaked Vharla.

“He’s got a point you know-why is Cerelle Lannister coming here?” asked Aegon the Younger.

“Scouting for a husband” mused Jaehaera.

“Good luck, half of the single lords that frequent the Red Keep are wrinkly old cunts”.

“Daenerys” snapped Aemond.

“Apologise father” replied Daenerys her cheeks tinged pink.

“Oh, you have no idea how much this amuses me” breathed Aegon.

“Glad it amuses someone” snarked Aemond.

“Uncle Aegon is single, and he isn’t a wrinkly old cunt” exclaimed Saeryna.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you” said Aegon.

“Shouldn’t have favourites” mused Aerys.

“I don’t have favourites-but if I did it would absolutely be Saeryna” laughed Aegon.

“You are the King-stop acting like a buffoon” snapped Aemond.

“Oh, Aemond remove the stick from your arse and lighten up” replied Aegon.

“Uncle is brave-I’ve seen lesser men almost piss themselves in fear from the look that father is giving him right now” mused Rhaegar.

“All of you quieten down-“ urged Vaeryna,

As the door of the carriage opened, Aerys let out a little gasp as Cerelle emerged from the carriage, her jewelled hand extended to the attending squire.

Indeed, she was rather beautiful, her golden hair shining in the sun, her elegant slim figure swathed in rich red and gold fabric. Her blue eyes sparkling like the rarest of gems from Tarth.

“Lady Lannister welcome to Kings Landing, I hope your journey from Casterly Rock wasn’t too perilous” said Aegon politely as he held out his hand in greeting.

However, she bypassed greeting Aegon and made a beeline for Aemond.

“Rude” scoffed Vaeryna.

“Pleasure to meet you Prince Aemond, I’m Cerelle Lannister”.

“Errr, pleasure to meet you my lady” replied Aemond.

Cerelle Lannister's gaze swept across the crowded hall, where the flickering candlelight danced on polished armour and richly adorned gowns of other ladies in attendance.

The air buzzed with the murmurs of the guest courtiers as they revelled in the grandeur of the occasion, a feast held in celebration of some anniversary of the King.

Yet, amid the sea of faces, her eyes found him - Aemond, the enigmatic figure with flowing silver hair that cascaded down his shoulders like liquid moonlight.

Aemond moved with a graceful confidence, his every step commanding attention.

The scar over his face only heightened the allure, a testament to his bravery and resilience against the bastard strong boy who carved out his eye when they were children.

Cerelle's heart quickened as she took in the sharp features that radiated the ethereal beauty of old Valyria.

His presence was magnetic, drawing her towards him like a moth to flame.

Leather-clad and lithe, Aemond moved with the fluidity of a predator, his every movement deliberate and purposeful.

Cerelle couldn't help but be captivated by the way his attire accentuated the contours of his body, a display of strength and agility that hinted at a warrior's prowess.

Her breath caught as she observed the subtle play of muscles beneath the supple leather.

Cerelle's pulse quickened when she saw Aemond lean over and place a gentle kiss on the cheek of his wife.

Cerelle in her youth had heard of Vaeryna, the silver haired dragon who had sold herself to her enemies and married the man responsible for the deaths of her brother and father.

It often intrigued her, what sort of woman would do that, but then her reasons were made clear when it was revealed that her brother Aegon the Younger was still alive, despite the entirety of the realm believing he perished alongside his brothers in the gullet.

Cerelle actually admired Vaeryna for that, it showed her strength and determination, a true reflection of house Targaryen.

But upon seeing Aemond, Cerelle completely understood the unspoken reasons for Vaeryna’s motivations. She really couldn’t blame her for spreading her legs and birthing the prince’s many children.

His silver haired babes were a testament to Aemond’s virility and fertile seed and Cerelle couldn’t help but feel flustered at the thought of Aemond stuffing her with his cock and breeding her.

His wife should have been a deterrent, a signal to retreat from the allure of forbidden desire. However, Cerelle's determination burned brighter than ever.

Vaeryna, was a mere obstacle in Cerelle's pursuit. Their union did little to extinguish the flames of longing that now roared within her.

Cerelle's ambitions knew no bounds, and the thought of a marital bond meant nothing in the face of the irresistible connection she felt with Aemond.

Undeterred by the constraints of societal norms or the sanctity of marriage, Cerelle set her sights on Aemond with unwavering resolve.

The glint of determination in her eyes mirrored the gleam of silver that adorned Aemond's hair and no matter how much she admired Vaeryna her existence quickly became inconsequential in the grand tapestry of Cerelle's desires.

She planned to move through the courtly intrigues with a grace that masked her audacious intentions. Cerelle knew the art of subtlety, weaving a web of subtle glances and discreet encounters, all aimed at ensnaring Aemond's attention by any means necessary.

Cerelle Lannister observed silently as Aemond engaged in rigorous sword training session in the castle yard.

The sunbathed the training grounds in a warm glow, accentuating Aemond's silver hair and his lithe and powerful frame moving with a grace that only a seasoned warrior possessed, each motion deliberate and precise.

As Aemond practiced his swordplay with the oldest of his sons, beads of sweat formed on his brow, glistening like diamonds against his pale skin.

Cerelle's blue eyes followed the sinuous lines of his movements, appreciating the fluidity of his actions. The intensity of the training session accentuated the contours of his muscular physique, captivating Cerelle's attention with each powerful swing and deft manoeuvre.

Cerelle found herself entranced by the sight of Aemond's dedication to his craft.

 His focus was unwavering, and the sheen of sweat highlighted the exertion he poured into every strike.

Aemond's dedication to his training only heightened his allure in Cerelle's eyes, and an admiring smile played on her lips as she absorbed the captivating display.

The distant clang of swords echoed through the yard as Aemond sparred with his son. Cerelle couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly dominated the practice, his movements a dance of skill and strength. A subtle sense of longing crept into Cerelle's gaze, and she marvelled at the allure of the warrior before her.

Aemond's silver hair caught the sunlight, creating a mesmerizing halo around him as he continued to hone his swordsmanship.

Cerelle, hidden in the shadows, allowed herself a moment to appreciate the beauty of the scene.

The contrast between the fierce determination etched on Aemond's face and the grace with which he moved stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within Cerelle.

As the training session progressed, Cerelle remained captivated by Aemond's every motion, savouring the sight of his athleticism, strength, and the sheen of sweat that clung to his form.

A subtle smile played on her lips, aware that the next time they spoke, the image of Aemond in the midst of his training would linger in her thoughts, fuelling a newfound admiration and perhaps sparking something more.

Vaeryna felt the subtle tension in the air whenever Cerelle Lannister was near.

The sly glances, the lingering touches, and the carefully chosen words—all seemed orchestrated to seduce her husband, Aemond.

Vaeryna was not blind to the game being played, and it fuelled a storm of emotions within her.

In the quiet moments of the night, Vaeryna found herself reflecting on the delicate balance of power within the social web of the court.

Ever ravenous for the whispers of scandal and salacious behaviours they could use for their own amusement.

Cerelle’s visit to the Red Keep was only meant to last a few weeks, but the visit had been extended in the hopes that Cerelle would be successful in finding herself a husband.

Technically she had been successful and had indeed found herself enamoured with a man who was no doubt the fantasy of most women that caught a glimpse of him, but he was married, and his wife was no slouch.

She was not only a dragon, but the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, whom she embodied not only in mind but in soul and every time she saw Cerelle giggling at Aemond or batting her eyelashes at him, she found her fingers itching to swipe the dagger from Aegon’s belt and skewer the nasty little tart with the pointy end.

However, Vaeryna tried very hard to restrain herself and maintained a calm and dignified facade but beneath the elegant exterior, Vaeryna harboured a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, jealousy, and a determination to shield what was rightfully hers.

Her children however were another story.

Saeryna had spent hours searching for spiders in the gardens only to release them in Cerelle’s chambers, her screams of terror echoing around the Red Keep as Saeryna smiled innocently.

Aerys worked in tandem with Jaehaeryn to swap Cerelle’s fancy bathing oils with stinky pond water and Caelee even helped herself to Cerelle’s pretty powders and used them to paint pictures for her Kepa (Father).

Vharla unstitched the seams of Cerelle's dresses which resulted in a rather embarrassing incident in the gardens with Cerelle being left red faced after her dress all but fell apart leaving her in nothing but her underclothes.

As it turned out Aegon was behind the entire thing, as he was advising the children on what to do and he took great pleasure in the chaos they were causing.

He had taken an instant dislike to Cerelle and was determined to see her suffer for her rudeness and blatently obvious disregard for Vaeryna who Aegon was absolutly NOT in love with.

Vaeryna of course pretended to be scandalised when Saeryna was caught putting worms in Cerelle’s hair, but it was rather endearing that her children had made some unspoken agreement with their uncle Aegon and united against Cerelle, determined to punish her for what she was doing, and it was amusing to see their sweet little faces a picture of pure innocence as they were scolded by Alicent for their behaviour.

The one thing Vaeryna was sure of was Aemond, her husband, was a man of unwavering loyalty and moral integrity.

She knew him well enough to trust in the strength of their bond, convinced that no external charms or temptations could sway him from their shared commitment.

Despite this confidence, the mere fact that Cerelle Lannister sought to weave her subtle web around Aemond was an insult that stung.

The insults were not in the fear of Aemond succumbing to Cerelle's charms, but rather in the audacity of the attempt itself.

It was a slight to their marriage, a challenge to the sanctity of their love, and an affront to the trust they had painstakingly built over the years.

Vaeryna found herself grappling with a mix of emotions—anger at Cerelle's audacious advances, frustration at the need to defend what should be unassailable, and a deep-seated hurt that someone would dare to undermine the sacred connection she shared with Aemond.

Ultimately her thirst for retribution eventually prevailed and she made a vow to herself that when the opportunity presented itself, she would deal with that horse haired slattern if it was the thing she ever did.

The Red Keep was ablaze with light and merriment as the realm gathered to celebrate King Aegon's name day. Banners of House Targaryen fluttered in the breeze, their green and gold scales catching the glow of countless torches that lined the courtyards and corridors.

The air was filled with the fragrant aroma of roasting meats, and the joyful sounds of laughter and music echoed through the throne room.

The throne room was adorned with elaborate tapestries depicting the storied history of House Targaryen. Long tables stretched across the room, groaning under the weight of lavish feasts prepared for the occasion. Golden chalices and plates adorned with dragon motifs sparkled under the soft candlelight, casting a warm and inviting glow.

Nobles from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms mingled with knights, lords, and ladies, all clad in their finest attire. The clinking of goblets and the melodic tunes of harps and lutes filled the air, creating an atmosphere of revelry befitting the celebration. Courtiers in richly coloured gowns and doublets danced gracefully to the music, adding a touch of elegance to the festivities.

In the centre of it all stood King Aegon, resplendent in regal attire befitting his station. His silver hair gleamed in the light, and the crown of the conqueror sat proudly atop his head.

Aegon received well-wishers and gifts with a gracious smile, acknowledging the love and loyalty of his subjects.

The people of the realm still buzzing from the spectacle of the jousting tournament that been held earlier in the day in honour of the king's name day, where knights in gleaming armour clashed with lances under the watchful eyes of the cheering crowd.

Of course, Aemond who claimed he didn’t give a shit about tourneys, entered and won.

Relishing in the cheers for his victory as he crowned his wife Vaeryna the queen of love and beauty. Her sweet smile as he placed the wreath of flowers upon her silver head and her gasp of surprise as he hauled her over the wooden fence and kissed her deeply in front of the realm was endearing for all too see.

Except for Cerelle of course who was seething with envy. Her attempts to tempt Aemond were proving fruitless, and his children with his silver haired bitch of a wife were monsters who needed hard lessons in discipline and the King was no better aiding those little shits in their pranks was truly poor form.

No, she needed to increase her efforts in tempting Aemond, she wanted him and by the gods she was determined to have him, so she donned her most daring dress and joined in the celebrations for the King’s name day.

“Are you really that dense brother-“ snarked Aegon as he took a large sip of wine.

“What are you bleating about now?” snapped Aemond.

“Cerelle Lannister-the lingering looks, the not so subtle touching of your arm when she's talking to you. Brother-your wife is seconds away from kicking the shit out of her and whilst I will shamelessly enjoy such a spectacle, I doubt her morbid cunt of a father would, so you might want to put a stop to whatever fascination Cerelle has with you before blood spills” replied Aegon.

“There is no-“

“You only lost one eye, surely you’re not that blind, the girl is desperate for your cock-“ muttered Aegon.

“Well, she can remain desperate-"

“Listen to your big brother-you’ve only bedded what two women?” said Aegon.

“Three actually”.

“Three? Who was-oh yeah Alys that old whore from Harrenhal, I forgot about her” said Aegon.

“Hm”

“Well, that’s beside the point-I’m more well versed in the ways of women than you are, and I can tell you now that there are some women who don’t take no for an answer and when they set their sights on something they will do whatever it takes to get it” replied Aegon.

“Are you saying that I’m in capable of defending myself against unwanted attention?” asked Aemond, feeling a little insulted over his brothers insinuation.

“In a word-yes I am. That Lannister bitch has had you in her sights since she first arrived here and whilst you remain blissfully unaware-your wife does not”.

“What has Vaeryna said?” questioned Aemond.

“It’s not what she’s said brother, it’s what she hasn’t. No woman ever wants to see another woman pawing at their husband” exclaimed Aegon.

“Do you think Vaeryna will do something?” mused Aemond as he looked over at his wife who was indeed glaring at Cerelle.

“You do know who your wife is right? Whilst Ryna might be a woman, she’s as fierce as any dragon that ever existed, and a dragon will protect what they consider to be theirs-if Cerelle continues playing with fire she’s going to get burned” warned Aegon.

"Oh, for the love of seven" uttered Aemond as he spotted Cerelle walking towards him.

“This isn’t going to end well” urged Aegon grimacing.

“Aemy-I had thought you would ask me to dance” giggled Cerelle.

“I’m not much of a dancer my lady” muttered Aemond.

“That’s not true-he dances often with Vaeryna-you know his wife” said Aegon through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Your Grace, a man may dance with others if he so wishes” said Cerelle her voice mockingly sweet, the underlaying meaning of her comment lingered in the air.

“Not this man” whispered Aemond as he tried to move away from Cerelle.

"Oh, just one dance my Prince" exclaimed Cerelle reaching for Aemond's hand.

"My lady I really must protest-" retorted Aemond moving his hand away from Cerelle's grasp.

"Just one dance-surely you won't begrudge a lady-"

"Oh shit-" muttered Aemond.

“-I bid you farewell Lady Lannister-it was nice knowing you” exclaimed Aegon raising his goblet in a mock toast as Vaeryna came up behind Cerelle and seized her by the hair, dragging her away from Aemond who couldn’t help the surge of arousal that shot through him at his wife’s possessive display.

The fierce determination in her amethyst eyes as she spun Cerelle around and slapped her hard across the face.

Her face twisted with fury as she stood over the shaking form of Cerelle.

“You even dare to approach my husband again and I’ll knock your teeth out-I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear-I’ll rip your fucking face off-AEMOND PUT ME DOWN“ screamed Vaeryna.

“Take it easy there Issa nēdenka zaldrīzes” Aemond as he wrapped his arms around Vaeryna and hauled her away from Cerelle (My fierce dragon).

"No-she laid hands on you; I won't have it-she dares to think that she can take what is MINE" snarled Vaeryna as she struggled against Aemond's grip.

"Nothing to see here-" urged Aegon waving his hands in the air, as he tried to stifle his laughter.

Aemond dragged a furious Vaeryna from the throne room and hauled her against the wall, his arms pinning her body against the cold stone wall.

"Calm down-" urged Aemond.

"Don't tell me to calm down-she's been pawing at you for weeks and I can't stand it any-"

Vaeryna gasped as Aemond surged forward and pressed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss.

“Do you trust me ābrazȳrys” asked Aemond (Wife).

“You know I do” replied Vaeryna breathlessly.

“In that case I may have an idea to stop Cerelle’s pursuit of me-so would you do me the honour of meeting me in the library in half an hour” said Aemond.

“Ok” muttered Vaeryna feeling a little uncertain.

“Don’t worry Issa gevie perzys. Just make sure to wear something less constricting” replied Aemond as he turned on his heel and walked away (My beautiful fire).

Cerelle stared down at the hastily scribbled note and smiled. Aemond had asked to see her, mayhaps he was going to apologise for his clearly deranged wife’s violent behaviour, or he had finally realised their connection and was ready to give in and reciprocate her affections.

Admittedly the library was an odd place to meet, but it didn’t matter.

The moment she had been waiting for was finally upon her and Cerelle was determined to enjoy every single second of it.

As she approached the ornate double wooden doors, Cerelle took a deep breath to steady her nerves before a guard wordlessly opened the doors for her.

The library was almost shrouded in complete darkness save for the few lit candles, giving it an almost eerie yet romantic glow.

“Aemond” called Cerelle.

But no answer came and after a few minutes, Cerelle’s attention was drawn to what sounded like a breathy moan coming from between the bookcases.

As she moved through the labyrinth of tall bookcases, the sounds of moaning grew louder.

Cerelle stood stunned as she spotted Aemond, half naked with his breeches sitting low on his hips, his head pressed into his wife’s neck as he pounded into her.

“N-Nothing and no one compares to you” growled Aemond bracing his hand on the bookshelf as he brutally snapped his against Vaeryna’s.

He was so deep inside her that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

“Aemond” gasped Vaeryna her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ābrazȳrys, take every fucking inch of me-let me fill your sweet cunt” (Wife).

“Oh, please Valzȳrys. I want it. I want all of you” moaned Vaeryna (Husband).

“FUCK” roared Aemond as he hauled Vaeryna away from the bookcase and placed her the edge of a desk.

“Yes-Yes Aemond, Oh gods” breathed Vaeryna.

“I fucking love you-I love you so much” growled Aemond his eye finding its way to Cerelle who shivered as he smirked at her, the sapphire nestled in his eye socket glinting in the candlelight.

Aemond continued to stare at Cerelle as he mercilessly fucked his wife, filling her over and over again with sharp penetrating thrusts.

The muscles of his chest and abdomen flexing as he moved with a brutality that Cerelle had never seen before.

“Aemond-yes, right there. Don’t stop-don’t stop” cried Vaeryna the tears running down her pale cheeks.

“That’s it Issa jorrāelagon. Come on daddy’s cock” rasped Aemond (My love).

Cerelle couldn’t help the flare of arousal that shot between her thighs when Aemond lurched forward and wrapped his lips around one of his wife’s erect nipples.

Suckling greedily and he reached down and began expertly circling her pearl with his long fingers.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaeryna her entire body seizing before going slack and pliant.

“FUCK-I’m going to come-“ groaned Aemond.

“I want it-fill me with your seed Issa dārys” gasped Vaeryna (My King).

“FUUUUUCK” roared Aemond, his head thrown back as his rope after rope of his seed spilled inside his wife’s cunny.

“Aemond” breathed Vaeryna as her husband collapsed on top of her.

“I love you so much-“ replied Aemond.

“-And I love you” whispered Vaeryna.

“I never want you to doubt my love, no one will ever compare to you-my soul mate”.

“Issa idañnykeā perzys” muttered Vaeryna (My twin flame).

“I see that our observer has fled” said Aemond staring at the vacant space that Cerelle had occupied mere moments ago.

“Husband” breathed Vaeryna as she slid her hands into his long silver hair and pulled his face towards hers.

“Wife” replied Aemond as he pressed a kiss to her soft lips.

Vaeryna gasped as felt her husbands cock hardening inside her.

“I think I need to have you again” moaned Aemond as he withdrew his cock from his wife’s cunny until only his tip remained and then thrust forward again.

“You may have me as many times as you desire my love” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Hm-” sighed Aemond his tongue licking at the seam of Vaeryna’s lips.

His plan had worked perfectly, Cerelle wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She had seen for herself the passion and love that Aemond and Vaeryna had for one another, what a silly lion she was to even think that she could come between two dragons.

As they watched the golden carriage depart the Red Keep, Vaeryna couldn’t help but notice the sly smiles plastered across Aegon and Saeryna’s faces.

“-And what are you two so happy about?” asked Vaeryna.

“We may or may not have left a little going away present in the carriage for the Lady Lannister” said Aegon shrugging.

“Dare I ask-“ mused Vaeryna as a loud shriek echoed across the courtyard.

“I guess she found the slugs” laughed Aegon.

“Or the maggots” replied Saeryna.

“I thought we agreed on slugs-where did you get the maggots from?” asked Aegon as he lifted Saeryna into his arms.

“Found them in the Maester’s room and then I put some in a jug and poured them in a cushion in the carriage” replied Saeryna.

“A-A cushion” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Don’t worry mama. I left the zippy part open” shrugged Saeryna.

“Gods I love this kid” laughed Aegon.

“I thought I was being nice leaving her presents, not my fault she doesn’t like them”.

“Spoilt bitch” muttered Aegon as Saeryna nodded quickly.

“I’m not going to get into trouble am I mama?”

“No, my sweet you’re not. In fact, I must insist that you receive a reward, how about a new doll or a new dress. Perhaps both?” said Vaeryna smiling.

Saeryna giggled sweetly and pressed her face into Aegon’s neck.

“You know I pity the fool who dares try to court this little one when she’s of age” said Aegon.

“You and me both”

“Is everything ok?” asked Aemond curiously.

“Everything is perfect my love” replied Vaeryna as she took her husband’s hand and headed back inside the Red Keep.

As Vaeryna gave one last fleeting towards the golden carriage moving rapidly away from the Red Keep, she couldn’t help but wonder if Cerelle would ever dare show her face again.

Probably not if her children had anything to with it. What treasures they were.

All eight of them, mayhaps even nine as the moontea Vaeryna had requested that morning had remained untouched in her chambers.

[scotianostra]

Mary Somerville, the world's first scientist.

On December 26th 1780 Mathematician and scientist,Mary Somerville was born in Jedburgh.

Before Mary Sommerville came around, the word "scientist" didn't even exist.

When we think of history’s great scientists, names such as Isaac Newton, Galileo Galilei, or Nicolaus Copernicus likely come to mind. The funny thing is that the term “scientist” wasn’t coined until 1834 — well after these men had died — and it was a Scottish woman named Mary Somerville who brought it into being in the first place.

Mary Somerville was an almost entirely self-taught polymath whose areas of study included math, astronomy, and geology – just to name a few. That Somerville had such a constellation of interests, and possessed two X chromosomes, would signal a need to create a new term for someone like her — and scientific historian William Whewell would do precisely that upon reading her treatise, On the Connexion of the Physical Sciences, in 1834.

After reading the 53-year-old Somerville’s work, he wanted to pen a glowing review of it. He encountered a problem, however: The term du jour for such an author would have been “man of science,” and that just didn’t fit Somerville.

In a pinch, the well-known wordsmith coined the term “scientist” for Somerville. Whewell did not intend for this to be a gender-neutral term for “man of science;” rather, he made it in order to reflect the interdisciplinary nature of Somerville’s expertise. She was not just a mathematician, astronomer, or physicist; she possessed the intellectual acumen to weave these concepts together seamlessly.

Somerville was an intellectual giant of her age. In her mathematical and scientific pursuits, she was able to converse confidently with some of the foremost minds in the natural philosophic community (natural philosophy previously having been the name of scientific endeavour). More so, she was able to do this without attending university, instead acquiring knowledge through her own self-teaching abilities.

Growing up in a lower middle-class household in Scotland, she received a basic education — though this was not any more than was expected of a girl at the time. It was only due to her boundless curiosity in the world around her which she cultivated through various countryside excursions, and through reading the books in her father’s private library, that she was given the spark that became a lifelong love of knowledge and explanation.

As her early academic interests, perceived as boyish, were shunned in the household, she was sent to learn needlework and domestic duties (both of which she met with annoyance). She still attempted to keep up with the more extensive education that boys in her town were provided with (and indeed often surpassed them).

As a maturing young woman of 18, she was introduced into society: attending balls and spectacles in Edinburgh and dancing with nobility. She was outwardly renown as a beauty and was married in 1804 to a wealthy physician.

With her free time as a provincial housewife, she now began to study seriously and continued this after she became a widow three years later. She read the works of Newton, Laplace, Lagrange, and others scientific notables.

By her early thirties, she was solving complex problems and publishing her results in philosophical journals of the time. For this she received awards and public notoriety.

An incredible polymath, she was adept in almost all areas of scientific pursuit. Her interests were so multi-varied and her abilities so keen that she was able to become knowledgeable in mathematics, physics, chemistry, geology, geography, and astronomy, as shown in the vast scope of her publications.

Her works On the connexion of the physical sciences’ and ‘Physical Geography remained staples years after her death. She was also able to speak Latin and Ancient Greek fluently. Biographer Renee Bergland claimed that ‘she was no mere astronomer, physicist, or chemist, but a visionary thinker’, and one who surmounted daunting mental obstacles

Beyond purely academic interests, she somehow also found time to push her political beliefs and aided in the fight to improve the rights of women. John Stuart Mill presented Somerville with his 1868 parliamentary petition for women’s suffrage — of which she provided the first signature.

She eventually became an image in her own right, espousing the ability of women to improve their situation through intellectual pursuit — to gain an equal footing with men in that regard would later be intrinsic to suffragist efforts. Even more so in her long list of achievements, she was tutor to another giant of mathematical science: Ada Lovelace, a pioneering force in computer mechanics.

As shown, Somerville’s life encapsulated so diverse a litany of achievement and she should act as testament to the power of knowledge to break down barriers. Her legacy was so great that her name was given to an Oxford College, one that was among the first to allow women to attend the ancient university. Among the names of those who helped push women’s liberation, she must be ranked as one of the foremost, though this is not understate her incredible scientific achievement. Certainly, the true testament to her legacy came in her obituary which read: ‘whatever difficulty we might experience in the middle of the nineteenth century in choosing a king of science, there could be no question whatever as to The Queen of Science.

[signoraviolettavalery]

Another bokris idea:

they've sort of gotten together, aka they've kissed and are sort of dating, but haven't sat down to have a conversation about "what are we?" and "are we exclusive?" because a)they're emotionally constipated and terrified to b)their lives are crazy and stressful and they keep waiting for the Right Time

except of course Bojan is also a pining idiot who really wants them to be Officially Together and Real Boyfriends and so his brilliant way of testing the waters is....making Kris jealous

not actually sleeping with anyone (he doesn't want to, he'd rather have Kris) but he certainly makes it look like he does. Dancing with them, sneaking off for a bit from the dancefloor of whatever club they're at, getting home late, posting suggestive selfies...

Until of course Kris snaps. He is in fact jealous. He knows he doesn't have a "right" to be, they haven't made anything really official, but he really wants it to be real. Bojan is it for him, and it kills him that that doesn't seem to be true for Bojan as well, and eventually....

eventually he snaps, pins Bojan to a wall, kisses him bruisingly, and lays his claim. You're mine, he hisses into bruised skin. Do you think they can give you something I can't, when I know you inside and out? When I know what you're made of, your body and your soul?

He's angry, and it's not gentle, but it's the best sex they've had. Bojan relishes every bruise, every possessive word.

And after, Kris is like, why? Why do you do this? Am I not enough for you? Why did you start anything with me if you're going to run after other men?

And Bojan says, "there haven't been any other men."

Which Kris is incredulous about. Of course there have been! He's seen it. All that suggestive dancing at the club, all those disappearances...

"That wasn't real. I just wanted to make you jealous, but Kris, I didn't touch any of them. I don't want them. I only wanted you, but I wasn't sure where we stood and I ... didn't know how to talk about it. I wasn't prepared to ask how you felt and possibly hear that you didn't feel about me the way I did about you."

And Kris. mostly he's incredulous and a little mad, because Bojan went to this whole charade instead of just talking to him? But also he feels a little bad because he got so angry and it turns out that Bojan has been faithful. That given ample opportunity, he wants no one other than Kris. And he knows he should be more mad and more annoyed about the way Bojan went about this but he keeps coming back to the same thought:

Bojan doesn't want anyone other than him.

Bojan, the brilliant sun, the lighthouse, the charismatic one, the one people are always drawn to. The gorgeous one. He could've taken home almost anyone. But he hasn't touched anyone but Kris. Kris, who was just as much of a coward about having a conversation about all this. Ne govoriva vec o tem indeed.

"Well, do you have your answer, then?" Kris asks.

"I think so?" Bojan says. "I think maybe this means you would in fact like to be exclusive? Which I'm totally okay with, by the way, in case that wasn't obvious."

Kris snorts. "Exclusive? Bojan. Of course I want to be exclusive. I want to be with you. And I'm sorry that both of us are terrible at talking about it, but you have to admit, maybe you took it a little far?"

But Bojan is grinning now. "Nah," he says. "You all jealous and possessive is kinda hot."

[krikeymate]

transformations

A small post-movie introspection with Abigail.

For the second time, Abigail finds herself transformed.

A body whimpers and writhes beneath her hands, but she finds little joy in the display, mind stuck on the past 24 hours.

She replays it, over and over. Every moment, every detail. It had all been planned out, from each beat to step, a meticulously choreographed performance.

The dance had barely begun when the set began to crumble, and while she would love to rest the blame on her unruly little troupe, she is not her father, and she knows it is her and her alone who must take the fall.

Abigail had miscalculated. Plain and simple.

She thought she knew who she was playing with, she thought she’d had Lambert under her thumb. She’d mistaken a knight for a pawn.

As she feeds, Abigail contemplates these failures. She can admit to them, learn from them. Adapt.

Kristof Lazar, as he’s been calling himself these days, rules through fear and intimidation, a power cultivated from seeds planted in a time so long ago most cannot begin to comprehend its existence.

Abigail doesn’t have that. She’ll never have that.

But tonight, she thinks, tongue lapping at the dying trickle from a now still body, perhaps she has planted a seed of her own.

Joey’s moment of hesitation to leave, to leave her, despite all that had transpired, like a gallant knight waiting for dismissal, injured and scared but oh so ready to stay – it etches itself into her brain, where countless nights and days have flickered by; this one is cemented, another pillar constructed in the ever-expanding home of her psyche.

See you around, Joey.

She’d planted a seed indeed. One she intends to coax into bloom.

Her men are all loyal to her father, but that woman could be hers and hers alone.

The thought is so enticing it leaves her previously settled stomach hungry for more, ravenous for a treat she cannot have.

A part of her regrets not having a taste, not having claimed her for her own. She would relish the closeness, to examine the connection she had felt, to comb through the mind of Ana Lucia Cruz until there was nothing left untouched by her.

But Abigail, for all that she will ever remain a child, young for eternity, she’s had hundreds of years to evolve, and patience is a skill she’s long since mastered.

A careful nurturing will birth a garden; a flower plucked will wilt in the blink of an eye.

Even now, within her she can feel the weak and fading consciousness of a girl so much like her, a mind lost without a body.

Sammy. Jessica.

In this aftermath, Abigail finds herself twinging with regret. She understands her – young and talented, abandoned and ignored. They’re the same in a way, right down to the foreign fondness that spikes with every thought of their companion-in-common.

It is a shame that she had to be the one to get in her way, she too could have been groomed for so much more.

She wonders if it is crueller to stomp out this dying light that cowers in her mind, or to leave it be to live out as far as it can until it meets its true death. She finds herself lost for answers, and entirely unwilling to unmask that weakness to those that may have them.

With a growl, Abigail drops the corpse to the floor, altogether uncomfortable with the spectrum of emotions seeping from her, like she’s some fragile little girl and not the monster stalking the night that people fear.

It’s easy to blame the unfortunate human in her head for the unwelcome intrusion.

It’s time for her to do what she does best. Observe, and stalk, and hunt.

She hopes Joey will keep her word and go to her son, because Abigail will certainly keep hers.

See you around, Joey.

[galacticwildfire]

Sad, Beautiful, Tragic | Alicent Hightower

Four

Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!oc

64.media.tumblr.com

Their fathers sworn enemies, Viserra and Alicent should never have been as close as they were, yet it was a connection neither could fight. What began as an innocent girlhood companionship becomes something scandalous, with the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen showing her true colours. As the dance begins she finds herself torn between her loyalty to her house and her love for her father. Yet neither hold a candle to her forbidden love for the new queen, a love which threatens to destroy them both.

Word count : 4.9k

A/N: so sorry it's been so long, life has been miserable with uni, also comment on taglist if you want to be added or removed



~

~

~

Father and I stand atop the walls of Hightide, watching the Velaryon fleet prepare to set sail.

"Why are we fighting this war father?" I ask him out of genuine confusion. "What threat can this crabfeeder truly pose to us?"

"It's not about the threat to us, it's the principle of it," he explains. "For the crab feeder to gain power and holdings so close to our shores reflects badly on our power as Targaryens. We have dragons yet we let pirates like the crab feeder and his men creep upon us. Like with rebellions, they must be put down brutally." He looks at me, almost as if he's studying me. "Did you do as I asked and see the blacksmith to have armour made and fitted."

"Yes," I answer, even if my heart pounded the entire time, it wasn't until the moment I secured the steel onto me that it became real. "Our dragons will be the first in generations to see true battle."

He has had me training with the master at arms morning, noon and night, and then with himself. Determined to give me the training I would have received if I was a son.

"They will be," he tells me. "My brother does not want to see it but by me being out here instead of sitting on my ass in Kings Landing my claim only grows stronger."

He wants it, more than almost anything he wants to be his brothers heir, except there is one problem. "The council would see it as this, if anything were to happen to you the crown would then be fought over by two girls, one a trueborn princess and the other a bastard. While I'm your heir your claim is forfeit." He's quiet as he knows it's true, even if he will not admit it. "I know Mysaria's pregnancy was a farce, but if you were to have a son I would be happy." He stills and looks at me in contemplation. "I have no desire for the throne as you do, and despite my love and loyalty towards Rhaenyra I know I cannot stop you if you decide to press your claim, but as your daughter I can only tell you the truth which is you will need a son to have any chance. I know you have always seen me as your heir but if you were to have a boy to inherit whatever you take I would be happy with that."

He knows what it is I'd be giving up if he had a son, what I would lose. He's lived his life in fear of Viserys fathering a son enough to know it. Yet he asks "You've truly never desired power for yourself?"

"I have power," I tell him. "Being a bastard with no obligations to marry or rule is more than power, it is freedom. A freedom I do not wish to give up."

He smiles. "Then you're wiser than I am."

It's then we're interrupted by Rhaenys who comes to join us. "I assume you will not be attending your brothers wedding."

"Considering I'm still in exile, no," Father answers plainly. "And I'd rather not see the look of pride on Otto Hightowers face."

I can't help myself as I ask "The wedding, when is it?"

I've been here on Hightide for the last month, acting as my fathers understudy as he and Lord Corlys have been planning their war. Deliberately away from the matters of Kings Landing.

"Tomorrow," she tells me, and her voice is curious. "I understand you and Rhaenyra both were very close with Alicent Hightower."

Father can't help the laugh he tries to supress, getting a strange look from Rhaenys. "Yes, very close indeed."

"If Alicent had it her way it would be Laena marrying the king," I try to tell Rhaenys. "She did not want this."

"And yet tomorrow she shall be queen," she says, not caring for what she wanted. "Something that should have been Laena's if Viserys didn't let his heart rule him."

I look to my father whose protective over anyone who dares attack his brother, but it's an assessment he can't help but agree with. "It has always been his weakness."

"Perhaps it has not been in vain," I tell Rhaenys, always careful with my words when it comes to her. "Laena does not yet have a dragon but all she talks of is Vhagar." She tilts her head at me. "What is a king compared to a conqueror's dragon."

"An interesting thought indeed," she says with a small smile. She had never taken interest in me until I'd arrived here at Hightide, no doubt due to my birth, but if I am being cautious I could say she's started to take a liking to me. And maybe she's the mother I wish I might have had.

She leaves us and my father looks at me, knowing my urge to set flight. "Go. You aren't the one in exile."

"And what, try to steal her away again?" I scoff. "If it didn't work the first time-"

"You love her, you'll regret it if you don't try," he tells me and gestures to the army below. "We're going to war, you might not get another chance."

~

I wear my armour as I fly to Kings Landing, armour designed to compliment my riding clothes. Red and black with steel forged in the Targaryen design like my fathers.

It would gather more stares than I would care for if I entered through the front gates of the keep in daylight, but I enter through the secret passageways in the dead of night.

Her chambers are empty when I reach them, and I begin to wonder if I should have changed into one of my gowns, perhaps the red one she loves so much, suddenly aware I reek of dragon, but when don't I? My dragon is as much a part of me as she is.

When the door opens and she enters I'm sitting on the edge of her bed, she stops at the sight of me, remaining in the doorway eyeing me with the same caution as she does my dragon.

Her voice wavers. "Are you here to convince me to run away again?"

I shake my head. "As much as I want to I've made my peace."

A lie, I've simply accepted my defeat.

"I haven't," she replies, closing the door behind her but remaining there, keeping distance between us. But I can't stop my heart nor my legs as I stand and march towards her.

"Good," I say as I reach for her. "Because neither have I."

I take her face between my hands and kiss her. She pulls away, looking at me with those big brown eyes before kissing me back. She doesn't question the armour I wear as she reaches for me, no longer timid as she pushes me against the door and breathes "I don't want to be his, I don't want him to take something I don't want to give."

There's a question in her eyes, one I'm hesitant to answer. "Alicent-"

"Please," she whispers, and I see a side of her I've never truly seen until now. "I don't want the first person to ever touch me to be him."

This isn't what I wanted. I never came to conquer her as if I'm no better than a man. I just wanted to hold her one last time.

"Do you love me?" I ask her and the question almost seems to confuse her.

"Of course I love you."

I shake my head and remove her hands from my waist to hold them. "I'm asking if you love me the way I love you." Something changes in her dark eyes at those words and my voice breaks "Please tell me you love me too."

She reaches for my face and answers me with a kiss, something so gentle it's heartbreaking, and she breathes "You know I do."

It's then I bring her hand to my armour. "Alicent, I'm not wearing this for nothing."

Her first thought is that I've come for a fight. "If you plan to spill blood-" 

I just shake my head. "No. I'm not coming to start a war, I came to see you one last time before I leave for one."

She blinks at me with tears in her eyes, utterly blindsided. "No, you can't-"

"I am," I tell her and struggle to look her in the eye. "After the wedding I leave for the Stepstones."

"Why?" she asks me, her voice growing desperate as she pulls me in. "Why would you even think of going there?"

I look back up at her, knowing in my heart it's where I belong. "My fate isn't like yours, I'm not destined to marry a king or even a lord. I was born to fly on dragonback to bring fire and blood and that is what I intend to do."

"No," she demands. "I may not be queen now but tomorrow I can order you to stay here by my side-"

"I'll already be gone," I tell her, not knowing if I'll be able to bring myself to even attend the wedding. "I didn't come to fight, I came to see you one last time before everything changes."

She opens her mouth to protest before quickly shutting it, knowing there is no winning a fight with me once my mind has been made up. But something in her has changed. 

"No," she insists, grabbing my face and her eyes are filled with fear. "I'm not losing you. I can't."

And that's when I kiss her, wanting to taste the fire I know we share, despite how deeply buried it may be. A fire I bring to the surface with every step I take towards her bed until her legs hit the back of it and my hands come to the laces at the back of her dress, tugging at them enough the neckline of her blue dress slips down so I can drag my lips down her neck, kissing the soft skin below her jaw all the way down to her collarbone until she's gasping out my name.

"Viserra-"

"Sit down," I breathe and she obeys, the shoulders of her dress slipping down her arms and her hair free. A beautiful mess. I bring my hand to her face as I come to stand between her legs, her dress sliding up past her knees as I run my thumb over her lips. Eyes asking me to take whatever she's willing to give, as if I was just a man.

Perhaps I'm no better than one as I kiss her and my hands tug her dress from her shoulders but it's not until I have her in my arms I'm fulfilled, not by flesh but by her. 

~

We lay beside one another in the darkness, bodies bare and hearts fast. I should feel content, I should feel like a man would, but I don't. And it's a very dangerous thing as I look at her and realise I will never be content until she is mine and nobody else's. I am my fathers daughter, a jealous woman and a reckless one. 

But I'll never know where I inherited my tender heart from.

"Alicent." She looks at me as I reach my hand out to her face, she's trembling now the pleasure has worn away, terrified of what awaits her tomorrow. "It's not too late."

"Please, don't," she whispers, voice pained. "Don't try to convince me to run away."

Little does she know running away with her is one of the least bloody things I would do to make her mine. "I don't want you to marry him."

She sits up, pulling the sheets up around herself and faces away from me, being utterly difficult when I could end this here and now. "It would be treason, no matter how much Viserys loves you, if you were to do this, if he were to know..."

"Do you think me afraid?" I ask her, sitting up and tucking my chin into the crook of her neck, kissing her shoulder as my hand slips around her waist to hold her to me. "I'm not. I've spent the last weeks since I left preparing for war, yet the only prospect that frightens me is the thought of losing you."

She looks back at me, confused. "Losing me? You're the one leaving court to fight a pointless war." It's then she turns everything I've said back on me as she grabs my face and pleads "Stay. Stay here with me."

"And be the queens mistress?" I ask her, hating myself, because I know I could never be content having only part of her. "Do you think it wouldn't kill me to know you'll be his? Do you think it isn't already?"

"I don't know," she confesses to me. "It's impossible to know what you feel Viserra when you come in and out of my life so erratically. One moment chasing me and the next fleeing-"

"Would you believe me if I told you love has made me mad?" I ask her, looking into her wide eyes, shining with tears. "Alicent. Ever since the moment I returned to court and set eyes on you I've been driven mad by you. Every moment I am not with you I'm aching, and the thought of you being with a man makes me blind with rage. You make me utterly senseless, can't you see that?" She's speechless as I take her face between my hands. "I don't want to have you like a man, I don't want to be a mistress, I just want to be loved by you. Can't you see that is all I want?"

"Viserra," she breathes as I kiss her and there's no more words left I can say to make her feel my love as we fall back down between the sheets, and all I know is this last night together, if I can't feel her heart I'll feel what little she can give. Anything to keep her from letting go of us.

~

She's already awake by the time my eyes open, reaching her hand out to move the hair out of my face. Neither of us say anything, we don't need to, and there's no words that could do what we feel right now justice. I lean over to kiss her, as if I could pretend for just a moment everything was fine, but just as my lips touch hers the door opens.

I jump up, sheets around me expecting a servant, expecting anyone but Rhaenyra.

She stands there mouth open at the sight of us, before leaving just as quickly as she came, slamming the door shut behind her as Alicent clamps a trembling hand over her mouth.

"It's alright," I immediately tell her. "Stay here."

She's too terrified to speak as I reach for my clothes, not bothering with the armour as I run out the door still lacing my blouse and running through the halls. I catch the attention of those walking past, not caring for anyone's theories but Rhaenyra's.

I expect to find her telling her father, but instead she stands by the weirwood tree, waiting for me.

"Rhaenyra," I breathe. "It-"

"Wasn't what it looks like?" she finishes and turns back to look at me. "I should have known. It was right there in front of me this entire time-"

"No, not until tonight," I tell her, but she doesn't believe it. "The reason I fled to dragonstone that night was because Otto accused me of seducing Alicent, a crime I was innocent of, at least until then." Whilst she is betrayed, she believes that. "And so I stole her away on dragonback so she wouldn't have to marry your father but she begged me to bring her back and so I did." She hates this as much as we do, but still, the anger in her eyes is all for me. "I just wanted to see her one last time."

"Well you did a lot more than see," she says stiffly and shakes her head at me. "The night before she's meant to marry my father-"

"And she will," I tell her, biting back the venom in those words. "As much as we both hate it, as much as she hates it, if anyone were to know the truth it would ruin her." Even she would not stoop that low. "Blame me, hate me for keeping her secret, for seducing her. I may be no better than my father but the only crime she is guilty of is falling in love with someone she shouldn't have."

She almost laughs at those words. "You know, my father would believe that. Anyone at court would. But not me." My face falls. "She is far from innocent and we both know it."

My voice is stiff. "Are you going to tell your father?"

"I should," she says, the power in her hands. "But you're right. It would ruin her. I don't know what you think of me anymore. One day we were sisters and the next you were gone without an explanation, not even a word." 

"We are still sisters," I tell her, but as much as we both want to believe those words, we can't. "I still love you as my sister. That much is true."

It's then I see tears in her eyes. "How can I know that after all the lies? I needed you, but you chose to betray me and leave me standing there at the small council like a fucking idiot when they said it would be her, and when I went looking for you you weren't there."

"I'm sorry," I tell her, reaching for her but she steps away. "I just wanted to help her, I never wanted to hurt you!"

"Well you did!" she snaps at me and looks past me to where Alicent by now no doubt stands. "You both did."

I look between them, and it's then in Rhaenyra's eyes I see what Alicent thought she saw in mine. Jealousy. And I realise my father isn't the only one Rhaenyra's had eyes for. Rhaenyra's in love with Alicent.

It's then I break down laughing and both look at me as if I'm mad, and perhaps I am.

"Viserra?" Alicent says and I look around at the place the three of us spent our youth. A youth that has now ended.

"Look at us," I say, looking up at the sun. "Alicent is about to become queen, her children to usurp you as heir Rhaenyra, and me, about to go die in some pointless fucking war in the Stepstones." I smile, revelling in the pain it brings me. "That thought suddenly feels far more appealing than it did a day ago."

This is news to Rhaenyra, but Alicent's face is set in stone, and as I look her in the eye I see a glimpse of what Rhaenyra does. And for her sake I hope it's there, a conniving backbone to help her survive what's to come. A life not as a queen, but as a pawn for her fathers ambition.

I look back to Rhaenyra, not caring anymore how I leave things. Just wanting this to be over. "We're all fucked so how about we go put on our pretty fucking dresses and smile for the wedding." Both share the same look of disgust as they listen to me. "And let's drink to our ends."

"You-" Rhaenyra begins, not even having the words to do justice for her disgust and turns her back on me to leave, marching past Alicent without even looking at her, and suddenly I wish I'd done the sameas I see the utter rage seeping through her usually composed face.

"You truly are your fathers daughter."

"I am," I say shamelessly. "And you'll soon be one of us Targaryens, so welcome to the family."

I go to leave and she calls out "I forbid you to leave until after the wedding."

She may not be queen yet, and she knows it, but she is desperate. Desperate to keep me here.

"We'll see," I say and leave her there.

~

I sit in my chambers, my dragon riding gear discarded on the floor, too many wines deep to count as I watch from my window the court entering the throne room for the wedding. No Sept of Baelor it seems, nor a wedding in the Valyrian customs, but Otto seems to have spared no expense with a fortnight of celebrations planned. Usually the wedding comes in the midst of it but Otto must be desperate to get her married and bound by law before she can run away with me again.

I don't blame him, it's a valid concern.

Within the hour she will be queen, a perfect pawn in Otto's scheming. Within the hour Rhaenyra's position as heir will be threatened as it's never been before and Viserys is too blind to see it. I could so easily tell the king just what I did with Alicent last night, but she would be ruined. 

And I love her more than my own desire to end this. I love her too much to betray her, even if it would mean saving her.

She will be looking for me now, waiting for me to enter the throne room, waiting for me to be there for this day she has dreaded for so long now.

And I can't deny her.

Which is why, a little less than an hour later I enter the wedding late and a little drunk, wearing the gown of crimson red she loves so much just as the ceremony has begun.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness-" the high Septon trails off as the entire room looks back at me standing there, a scarlet letter.

I look to Ser Criston Cole whose duty it is to announce me "The Lady Viserra of House Targaryen."

There's horrified looks from everyone in the room, no doubt believing I'm here to cause chaos on my fathers behalf, but I'm only looking at her as I walk down the aisle towards her and bow my head as I reach the end. It's then I finally see the look in Viserys's eyes, the simple understanding I am not his sweet niece, but my fathers daughter.

I don't say a word as I meet her mortified eyes and come to stand beside Rhaenyra who whispers "What are you doing?"

"Attending the wedding of our new queen," I answer as the High Septon clears his throat.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” She is beautiful standing there in white and red, but I know I cannot help but be the only one in the room looking upon this young girl, being worn by the Targaryen jewels and crown, believing she is too young for this. “Let it be known that Lady Alicent of House Hightower and King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of his Name, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

It's then I feel Otto's gaze on me and meet his eye. He should be feeling victorious in this moment but I see it in his eyes, the fear. His daughter may be queen, but whilst I live he will always have an enemy who holds her heart.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

I can see her trembling as the High Septon binds their hands, her nails bloodied. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…”

Her voice is barely audible over his, she's terrified.

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,”

“I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Rhaenyra and I both look to the ground as Viserys says “With this kiss, I pledge my love."

He kisses her as I did just hours ago and the room fills with celebration. Yet Rhaenyra and I are the only two who do not rejoice.

We look at one another, despite our anger, despite it all, in mutual understanding at being both devastated by this day.

Alicent is lead through the room, her eyes meeting mine briefly as she passes by us and the room follows to where the first feast is to be held outside.

"Long live the queen," I say under my breath. "It seems this day is a beginning for her, but an ending for us."

Tonight she will lay with Viserys, and may well become with child. Today her girlhood ends, being so abruptly torn away from her. As is ours.

"If you love her you won't do anything stupid," Rhaenyra says. "Not today."

"I already did, and she begged me not to again," I reply numbly. "After today I'll be gone, and I don't know when I'll return."

She knows where I'm going and her voice is quiet "As long as you come back."

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it before letting go and leaving with the rest of the crowd. I turn my head towards the throne my father desires with a pit in my stomach at what's to come.

~

I stand at the edge of the crowd, but far from hidden with eyes drawn to me with every step towards the king and his new queen. I do not miss Otto whispering to the Kingsguard as I approach.

Alicent looks up at me from where's she's seated beside Viserys, a silent plea in her eyes.

"Apologies for being late," I say and pull out a small box. "A gift for her grace the queen."

Hesitantly she takes it and opens it to find a ruby ring set in Valyrian steel, something my father acquired across the narrow sea. "Viserra-" she breathes, immediately knowing its value. "It's beautiful."

"A ring only befitting for a Targaryen queen," I state, Viserys on edge beside her. Not knowing what my motives are, but treating me with the same caution he would my father. I know damn well the assumption will be I'm here on my fathers behalf in vengeance for him being banished, no one would dare guess the truth of it.

"Thank you," she says and dares to take my hand. "Thank you for being here." Her brown eyes are desperate as she asks "Please, stay at court."

My smile is sad as I lie "Of course my queen." I run my thumb over the back of her hand before letting it go. "Enjoy the feast your grace."

As I go to leave the courtyard I take one last look back at her, the most beautiful I've ever seen her but also the most sad, before I leave to strip myself of this dress and dress myself in my dragon riding armour.

Yet as I make my way out of the Red Keep to return to the dragonpit I'm stopped by a member of the kingsguard.

"Did the queen order you to find me?" I ask Ser Criston.

"She did," he answers. "She asked me to prevent you from leaving."

"I am leaving to fight a war," I inform him. "I assure you the queen will not have you punished for letting me through."

"No, but she will be upset," he tells me, desperate to please in his new position. "There are many here who would rather you stay at court, myself included."

I tilt my head towards him, intruiged. "Is that so Ser Criston?"

"Yes my lady," he answers and I can't help how my lips turn upwards. "Is this amusing to you?"

"Not at all, I'm merely curious," I answer truthfully and tell him "Allow me to go to Darkfyre and tell the Dragonkeepers they need not prepare her for flight and I will return."

He's foolish enough to believe it and steps aside. "As you will my lady."

Now I am amused as I walk past him straight out the front gates of the keep and make my way to the dragon pit to find her prepared as I'd instructed them upon landing. 

"Come on sweetheart," I say, running my hand over her black and red scales. "It's time you got out of this pit for good."

And so I mount her and take my leave from this city to meet my father at Hightide before we make our journey to the stepstones.

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[shameonmeeguiltypleasure]

Oh this is my moment to shine! I'd kill for a Polin fic with lots of pinning Colin! Like Book universe and his comments making Pen suddenly seem available (and everyone thought they had been courting) like a "did you know they broke their courtship" so at around 1817 if I'm not incorrect in my time-line, at two and twenty one year short of getting herself into early spinsterhood (as it starts at 23) she finds herself overwhelmed by choices she had no idea she had and Colin has to come back to face that the "I never asked you to" might hurt more than she thought now that she might never actually have to.

Challenge Accepted: Ooooh, I’m defs more confident in writing Polin, but as I’m drunk I’m beyond curious how my drunk mind will interpret this prompt. Can I even write a good pining Colin oneshot? Idk, you decide lmao. *Sidenote: I hope I read your prompt properly and met the brief*

Post script: This turned out longer than I anticipated, but I do very much love it. I don't think it met the brief/what you wanted, but I hope you still like it. Maybe sober me will want to write Penelope's POV on everything so you understand her struggle about the courtship/chatter etc stuff. Either way, Hope you enjoy.

Colin Bridgerton – popular charmer of the ton, known for his grinning smirks and promise of cheeky quips – could only stare with something unnameable stirring in his chest after the dancing redhead on the floor.

‘How…. How has It come to this?’ he couldn’t help but think. ‘When…. When did she become so brightly revered by more than just him?’

“Well, brother, I can very much confirm you are indeed a fool to have claimed to never wish to marry Miss Penelope Featherington,” Benedict couldn’t help but comment.

Colin scowled, his mouth twisting sourly as he snatched the glass from his brother’s hand and downed the beverage in one go. The sickly sweet drink only furthered the discomfort in his belly, but Colin ignored it in favour of glowering after the dancing duo on the floor.

“Look at them,” he muttered, “First it was a Mr Danksworth, then it was a Mr Anderson and now!”

Colin growled and snatched the pastry Benedict was preparing to bite into. He scoffed the pastry down in two large bites and angrily chewed past his mouthful. When he’d swallowed the last of the pastry he huffed and snarled the last name past his lips.

“And now there she dances with Lord Debling!”

“Oh look, indeed she does…” Benedict sarcastically drawled.

But that was not the worst of it! The worst of it was that besides the three earlier named gentlemen, on the edges of the ballroom remained the waiting rest. Colin knew them all by name. Several of them were men he once might’ve thought of as friendly acquaintances but now regarded as disgusting swine hungering after his dearest friend – his Pen.

“You know brother…..” Benedict began his tone filled with humour just short of mockery. “ I don’t understand how this isn’t something you expected.”

Colin turned abruptly at Benedict’s words, his nostrils flaring with incredulity and his eyes burning with anger at the implication in his brother’s tone. Benedict continued to ignore Colin’s incensed state and musingly continued his commentary.

“Perhaps if you’d only –“

Benedict never got to finish his sentence, and even if he did Colin likely wouldn’t have heard it anyway. The music had come to an end and Colin was pushing past the crowd closer to where Penelope and Lord Debling were finishing their dance parting.

“COLIN!” Eloise cried as she latched onto his arm and attempted to drag him away from his current destination. He very near threw her off him, uncaring for the eyes subtly watching them from all angles. None of them mattered. None….. except for Penelope who stared at him with something he could only liken to…. Indifference.

“Let go of me,” he snarled lowly, but Eloise only tightened her grip.

“You must come with me,” she hissed.

“I mustn’t do anything,” he snapped back.

“Brother!” Anthony warned from his other side where he suddenly appeared.

“I am doing nothing,” Colin insisted as he winced under Anthony’s tight grip.

“You are embarrassing yourself,” Eloise whispered.

And he was.

He knew he was.

He could hear the growing whispers in the room, some full of pity, some mocking, but many full of judgment. Colin very suddenly wanted to laugh. Who were they to judge him? All because of one comment –  a single sentence said without thought and consideration under the influence of alcohol and peer pressure.

Yes.

He was a fool.

But fools could still learn, they could still earn forgiveness and right their mistakes.

Fools still held hope.

“Colin…. If not for yourself then for Penelope’s sake, come with us” Eloise hissed.

And that was the key to his obedience.

Penelope.

Colin chanced one last lingering glance towards the woman in question, her red curled hair hard to miss among the crowd. She was watching him still, her expression as indifferent as ever but her eyes…. Her eyes…… her eyes were pleading.

It was the plea in her eyes that ultimately swayed him, and he let himself be tugged away by his siblings.

“I only wished to ask her for a dance,” Colin later mumbled.

Eloise had left them with a conflicted expression, it wasn’t pity but something incredibly close to it. Anthony chose to stay and so the two brothers sat on a stone bench in the gardens while the ball continued inside.

“I only wished to ask for a dance,” Colin repeated, unsure if he were trying to convince Anthony or himself.

“Colin…..” Anthony sighed.

The brothers let silence form between them, the air heavy with unspoken opinions on the many ways this was the consequence of one’s foolish mistake. There was no use in lecturing, so Anthony made no move to do so. Everyone with eyes could see the effect losing Penelope Featherington’s sole reverence and attention had on Colin Bridgerton.

“What can I do?” Colin eventually asked his brother.

Here, was a moment where both men wished their late father still lived. Unfortunately, Edmund Bridgerton was far beyond their reach and so Anthony forced himself to attempt, once again, to fill his shoes for the sake of his siblings.

“Perhaps, you should first ask yourself why marrying Miss Featherington is so unthinkable for you,” Anthony suggested.

It took several seconds for Colin to answer, but when he did, Anthony felt his neck ache from how fast he twisted in shock to look at his moping younger brother.

“She’s not…..”

“What?”

“I-I’ve never said marrying Penelope was unthinkable,” Colin quietly confessed.

“Colin, you clearly announced to a gathering of men, and I quote, ‘Are you mad? I would never dream of marrying Penelope Featherington!” Anthony reminded with a slightly patronising glare.

“Yes, but I didn’t mean it the way it was heard!” Colin exclaimed.

Anthony blinked then threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Then how else did you mean it? In what way was what you said in any form capable of being misinterpreted!?”

“I-I…. “Colin stammered with frustration.

“Well?”

Colin very suddenly stood to his feet, pacing back and forth while gripping at his hair with frustration. Anthony continued to sit and watch, forcing himself to remain patient with his struggling brother. When the words finally came, they were rather disappointing.

“What I meant to say is that I would never dream of marrying Penelope!” Colin repeated with special emphasis on some words.

Anthony gave him a droll stare in reply and a very damning judgmental arched brow.

“Damn it! You don’t understand!”

“Because you are failing to explain yourself in proper English without an ounce of logic!”

“I don’t dream of Penelope!” Colin exclaimed with frustration.

“Oh, well done brother, that’s so much better,” Anthony drawled with a roll of his eyes and a disappointed frown.

“I don’t dream of Penelope! I would never! I-“ Colin cut himself off looking incredibly frustrated while his ears burned.

But Anthony very suddenly had an epiphany. It was the way Colin had phrased his wording that triggered his revelation. The sound of his voice as he struggled to find his words. All of it was a mirroring example of the way Anthony struggled to explain his affections for Kate while still courting Edwina.

“Then allow me to ask you one simple question, Colin….”

Anthony waited until Colin gave a very slow and subdued nod before he spoke.

“What exactly is Miss Penelope to you?”

“Milk,” Colin blurted.

What.

Anthony is sure his expression revealed his judgement, but Colin was doing an expert job rivalling a Tomato’s redness. The younger brother hastily elaborated on his previous one-word answer.

“I mean she’s the feeling one gets while drinking warm milk after a night of terror.”  

Anthony nodded to show he understood but Colin mistook it to mean the elder brother wanted more explanation.

“She’s the sweet satisfaction of chocolate after fencing practice. The feeling of knowing indulging in too much of it will make you sick but still doing so because…. Well because why not?”

Anthony blinked and realised it didn’t matter what response he gave; Colin was no longer listening.

“Penelope is…. She’s the warmth one feels while reading by the fire and the refreshing sensation of rain in a hot summer. She’s a candle lit in a dark room in the middle of the night, the anchor to a ship adrift the ocean…. She’s…..”

Anthony waited but Colin seemed to lose the reverent gleam in his eyes and begin to wilt. The Viscount also noticed the coming of three shadows from the corner of his eyes, but he kept his silence about their approach.

“She’s what?” Anthony prompted instead.

“She’s not someone to be ignored. She is someone to be treasured. She is someone precious and rare and…. Not for the likes of someone like me.”

Anthony saw one of the three intruders move to step towards them, but they were finally getting somewhere regarding all this nonsense. The Viscount spoke loudly, almost as if he were scolding Colin.

“What do you mean someone like you? What exactly is the matter with you?”

Colin laughed, the sound tinged with bitterness and self-deprecation, something nobody would expect from Colin Bridgerton.

“I am not titled, and my wealth is only thanks to your generosity. I have nothing to my name beyond the Bridgerton reputation.”

“You are a traveller,” Anthony argued, knowing it was perhaps the weakest positive he could name about Colin’s character.

“And what woman would wish to marry a man who hungers to roam constantly in search of something he cannot name!?”

“You are being ridiculous, Colin, many women wish to marry you!” Anthony argued.

“Many women wish to marry a Bridgerton and all the benefits it will give them. No woman wishes to marry simply because I am me.”

One of the three shadows shifted closer towards the light – revealing a distinctive hair colour that could not be ignored. Anthony took the opportunity to redirect his conversation with Colin to its initial topic.

“But how does Miss Featherington fit into this nonsense?”

Colin snorted; his back still facing to where the three shadows now moved closer to join them.

“Penelope deserves so much more, more than I have to offer, more than I’ve yet to earn. She is destined for something greater, sure to discover some grand purpose while I will always be left chasing after something unknown.”

The shadowed three were now illuminated by the garden lights, and Anthony tries his best not to react to their presence. Not while Colin is in the middle of confessing his truth unknowingly to the woman who deserves to hear it most.

“So, I don’t dream of her. I won’t dare to think of her beyond friendship. I can’t…… I am to her only a very dearly regarded friend….  And I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington.”

Colin lets out another self-deprecating laugh that sounds strangled while his eyes shine with unshed tears. “Penelope deserves so much more than me, and no matter how greedy I am, I would never wish to trap her in a life where she would be miserable.”

“Oh?”

Anthony watched Colin’s eyes widen in panic, then fear before he twisted to face the short red-haired woman trembling behind him.

“Pen….” Colin breathlessly whispered.

Penelope was shaking where she stood, her face red and her eyes shiny with her own unshed tears. Behind her hovered Benedict and Eloise, both looking uncomfortable but far too curious to walk away.

“I never asked you to marry me,” she said.

“Penelope I-“

“And I never, not once expected you to.” She continued.

Colin swallowed but his eyes never left the trembling woman before him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Why are you apologising!?” she yelled.

Colin flinched, but he didn’t take back his apology. Penelope scowled at him, her eyes filling once more, but she stubbornly willed them away. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she regarded the downtrodden gentleman across from her.

“You, Colin Bridgerton are the most infuriating idiotic man I have ever had the misfortune of caring for,” Penelope abruptly blurted.

Colin said nothing, accepting her words without an argument which only further annoyed her. Penelope heard Eloise’s sharp inhale and knew her favoured Bridgerton had caught the specific wording in her sentence. Penelope then scowled at the man still refusing to meet her gaze properly.

“Viscount Bridgeton!” Penelope sharply addressed.

Anthony startled at her sudden address – inwardly marvelling at her audacity to call on him with such tone – but very quickly regained his composure.

“Yes?”

“Please expect my visit tomorrow so we may further discuss my dowry.”

What.

“What?” Colin blurted from shock, echoed by Benedict, and accompanied by Eloise’s laughter.

“I’ll expect our mamas would schedule the wedding for after the season, but I intend to negotiate the dates. Eloise of course is expected to stand by my side at the altar, I’m sure you understand.”

“What?” Colin repeated, this time echoed by Anthony who looked gobsmacked.

Benedict had seemingly come to some realisation and was now joining Eloise with her laughter. Penelope then turned to Colin; her expression was full of exasperation but her eyes…. Her eyes were filled with mischief and….. an emotion Colin dared not to hope for.

“Oh, for God’s sake Colin, are you going to marry me or not?” she said with an impatient stomp of her foot.

“Y-You’re proposing…..To ME!?” Colin gaped, ignoring the loud cackling of Benedict and Eloise behind Penelope.

Penelope stared at him with a twist to her lips that almost distracted him, but he managed to control himself by focusing on the mischief in her eyes.

“Well, why not? You’ve made it very clear that you – for some ridiculous reason – won’t dare to ask me, yet you clearly wish to.”

“B-But what about Lord Debling? Or Mr Dankworth and Mr Anderson!?” Colin named with a scowl.

Penelope blinked back at him with a shrug of her shoulders.

“What about them?”

“You were courting them!!!” Colin roared, his temper flaring due to his jealousy.

Penelope however only smiled, and she dared to saunter closer to him.

“To be precise…. I was never courting them. It was them attempting to court me and if you wish to place blame somewhere you only need to look in a mirror, Colin Bridgerton.”

Colin swallowed, his mouth dry with want and his heart aching with hope.

“You, perhaps, never allowed yourself to dream of marrying me, or even dared to think it….. But I have spent many years wondering how lovely it would be to marry you.”

Colin knew this was not done.

A woman was not supposed to propose to a man….. and yet….. Penelope Featherington was looking up at him with honest eyes full of…. Love.

“Marry me Colin Bridgerton,” She whispered.

This time, Colin let himself dream of marrying Penelope Featherington.

He let his imagination soar and abandoned his heart to its reckless yearning for his dearest friend – his beloved Pen….. and he said…..

“Yes.”

[horizon-verizon]

I’m not sure if you’ve answered this but theoretically, what -based on what information we have from the books- would’ve/might’ve actually happened to Rhaenyra and her Velaryon sons if Alicent’s claims of bastardry were actually entertained and their paternity were put to question?

*EDITED POST* (2/25/24)

That's a little hard to say because there is nothing exactly like Rhaenyra's situation mentioned in the ASoIaF lore. But it's not an absolute impossibility.

Big Picture Wise

She is the first woman to be outwardly and continuously declared the next female ruler of multiple noble families at once as part of the overlord-of-overlord family. And since her ability to lead or deserving to lead are both socially contingent on how well she conforms to Andal mores of femininity (defying "natural" female sluttiness, damsels in distress, and obedience to men) AND masculinity (ability to lead armies "rationally") despite these things being socially divided and opposed. Because she is female, having bastards is a bigger deal and an indicator if her "character" than if she were male...bc men "have" to be sexually satisfied and they aren't held to the obligation of obediance or poltical/economic/sexual submission to a partner as women are. Women = submission in this universe.

Rhaenyra, being female, is held to different standards and it is far more likely that she'd suffer consequences for infidelity than a man in her place would. No matter her class. We remember Aegon IV and his decision to legitimize every single one of his bastard kids just to spite his only male legitimate heir that resulted in the Blackfyre wars. Meanwhile, if Rhaenyra's kids are indeed Harwin's biologically and it is Alicent/the greens trying to gain power through destroying her images in the hopes of her and her kids getting removed from the line of succession, then is it actually MORE of Rhaenyra's fault for the Dance or Aenys I, Visenya, Jaehaerys, Alicent, and Viserys' because of Andal patriarchy? The discrepancy b/t how people in world and in the fandom talk about Aegon IV's children vs. Rhaenyra's children is stark when Rhaenyra didn't do anything as spiteful or stupid as Aegon IV. Aegon IV being jealous of his brother and son and wife has nothing on Rhaenyra being forced into a marriage that prioritizes to her father, Corlys Velaryon, etc than herself.

Under this ideology, Rhaenyra having bastards "reveals" her unfitness to rule--look, she can't even do this "simple" thing, she shouldn't rule. (Meanwhile, it's a very simple thing for Daemon to stay in the Vale with Rhea Royce & have at least 1 child between them, but he decides to fuck off to sleep with other people in KL 7 though he's criticized, he receives none of the personal or political backlash Rhaenyra or ANY woman would if they do the same. Same with Argon the Elder, who constantly cheats on Helaena and rapes women. Yet some fans and people in Westeros would rather either those two or think they would make "better" leaders.)

We saw it with Aerea/Rhaella and Baela, how their behaviors or state of childness disqualified them in the eyes--of the men who are part of the councils or associated--for becoming queens (regnants) after a war or civil dispute b/t Targs even though we have Aegon III, a literal child of 10, become king. AND many examples of noble male infidelity or if not married many examples of men publicly going to brothels at any age.

Sure we have the errant mention of a not-so-important noble family with a young girl impregnated and usually her kids sent off to be raised in another noble household, become a septon/septa novice, or just straight up never mentioned again. And the impregnator is usually put out, exiled, or otherwise left alone/unmentioned again depending on who they are/their class. But if any women/girls had extramarital pregnancies WHILE being in a very prestigious family or being heir/becoming the head of the household or something like that, it was kept hush hush likely for her/the house's reputation and to smooth the way to her ascension. And it gets weirder when we try to go back before the Conquest when these houses used to be either royal dynasties in their own right or the "high lords" under these dynasties because the information is less detailed. I can only remember the Bracken-Blackwood bastard-turned-king Benedict Rivers-to-Justman and his obviously highborn mother. We get no details of what happened to her after she birthed a bastard but since we don't get her name, it's unlikely she was that high of status or politically active in the family itself to be mentioned and remembered the way Agnes Blackwood was.

So when I or others say that Rhaenyra could have had her kids exiled, it's a possibility that is strong because she is still a woman and noble women face gender discrimination and censure for most acts of sexual freedoms they take. Lollys Stokeworth is still raped and impregnated by any of the male smallfolk when they get their hand son her. Rape in violent events, especially towards women/female children, is designed to express male dominance and control over the objectified female body. Argella Durrandon is tied up naked when she's sent to Orys after she tried to defy the Targs killing her father and move to conquer her family's lands. Such a thing doesn't happen to men high enough on the hierarchy, her own soldiers were put her up as a deterrent offering because they are aware of how they can use a noble man's desire to continue their own line through a noblewoman (Orys or Aegon, doesn't matter). And there are so many more stories similar to this. And by all this, it's not hard nor too erroneous to consider that while Rhaenyra is of a dragonriding family that overrules everyone, she's still very much beholden and trapped in the sexist culture where she lives. she still is forced to marry, forced to reproduce, killed in a femicide, judged for her not being in certain battles despite the dangers and how she's been left out of military activities all her life bc that's not considered a noble woman's domain or privileges, etc. Still blamed for things not her own fault or when things are a little or entirely her fault, it's treated as worse when male people do the same. Wrote many posts abt those.

Because they are the royals who are ruling what is now the kingdom of "Westeros", the political stakes are even higher for Rhaenyra and Viserys/the Targs dynasty at this time. So how the information of her kids' parentage was to be handled delicately no matter what the truth was. Because yes, she would face worse consequences, and her kids being her kids would at least have their entire lives ruined by either quiet unofficial exile where they are pushed farther away from the center of politics OR they face exile. I'm not so sure about executions right now because that would be kinslaying on Viserys' part. But to be a "revealed" bastard (true or not) versus someone whose been recognized and known as a bastard all their life is certainly not a desirable or safe status.

Going into the Family Itself

If Alicent ever managed to get the nobles to care so much about the boys' parentage AND had their parentage revealed, depends on when. If in their babyhoods (they all are born 1-3 years between them all), there's more of a chance that they'd have to lead safer lives OR if Viserys had been much crueler & stupider, kill them silently and pretend they died of any of the countless disease toddler and infants die of.

If they are older (like people have seen them all into Jace being eight around court when they have personalities and have interacted with a lot of people, having more of personhood and everyone has the familiarity of them being princes and not royal bastards), this stupider version of Viserys can't dive deeper into the realm of stupidity by attempting to have them killed, even silently. He could and if someone like Condal decided to create a Viserys character like such, I wouldn't put it past them to make the hypothetical stupider "Viserys" actually kill said child. We're talking about HotD and any adaptations made by incompetent writers here.

They'd (the older V boys) be too publicly known. There are even noted plans of marriage made for them. The next best thing is exile anywhere, and if he wants them safe, it can't be in Westeros "proper". So either the Wall or Essos, more likely the latter, because even at the Wall, they are a part of Westeros and have that story actually mean something to the people at the Wall. No matter their vows. Who will even take care of these boys until they are Wall-ready? Their entire lives would be constructed from the basis that the king put them out! Can the boys, hypothetically, expect to safely go about their lives at the Wall, say, knowing that everyone at the Wall is aware of said background? this would be the biggest scandal that EVERYONE (or most important people) would know, to then spread to even the Nights Watch guys. In contrast, Jon Snow was always known as a bastard or socially labeled as one from birth, basatrds can and have been sent to the Wall before (Ned & Lyanna's uncle), he was much more grown than the older V boys would be, AND he wasn't a royal bastard. Jon had much more leeway/ability to turn the Wall folk to his own corner, aside from having that talk about his behavior.

In all, besides the love Viserys definitely had for them, this is all too much fucking work for a problem he made and which is handled in a less laborious but still delicate way, only serves to benefit him and the entire house.

[namiko2789]

When the war is over.... will you have me?- Part 1

It was the start of the dance, everyone knew of this, everyone feared this and awaited this for years. Since King Viserys named Princess Rhaenyra as his heir, the sounds of conflict resonated in the halls of the Red Keep and ravens spread the news throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Once the raven reached Maester Talos' hand and his frail fingers opened the letter, you knew.

The bells rang throughout the Eyrie calling everyone to the main hall. Being born in house Arryn meant there was no fear of height, yet, here you were staring at the moon door wishing you were somewhere else. Your most beloved aunt walked to the highest seat followed by her dearest companion Jessamyn.

"King Viserys has died" announced the head of House Arryn Jeyne Arryn. "We will shortly receive the claims of both successors soon"

"Both successors?!" murmuring spread like wildfire in the room.

My aunt nodded towards me to open the Moon Door. I glided towards the lever and pulled on it. As I did, the wailing sounds of the wind quieted the room. Even the largest of knights of the Vale respected the Moon Door and stared at the deep fall with anguish in their faces. My aunt was no stranger to the thought of imprisoning or executing orders but she was very patient. My father knew this as he tested his luck twice before she placed him on a cellar. I held no ill will towards my aunt, my lord father was a man who believed women had no rights, and if he had succeeded as the head of the house, I would had been sold off the first oaf my father thought would bring advantages to his rule. My aunt was no such person, she believed in justice, even when she was a bit crass when she addressed men.

As I pulled on the lever once again to close the door, my aunt rose from her seat and addressed the audience.

"I have no doubt we will hear from both the Greens and the Blacks"

"We swore allegiance to Princess Rhaenyra" spoke Lord Cassius.

"Honor comes before at all times my lords, indeed, but so does the safety of our lands" she replied.

"Queen Aemma was of our blood" replied Joffrey Arryn my sweet and noble kinsman.

"And I agree but we have to see how they keep their word and afford the kingdom some peace" she stated solemnly. "For now we must adjourn. Lady Jessamyn, Lady Alia walk with me"

To that command, I immediately approached my aunt. "Yes, Lady Aunt" I curtsy and smiled broadly at her.

"My dear child, by the Gods you grow lovelier every day." She hugged me tightly. "Now, we must be ready for the envoys to arrive, would you be willing to accept the task?"

"It would be my duty to bring honor to house Arryn, perhaps auntie Jessamyn could help me with the preparations" I winked at her.

"SSsssh you cheeky child, if they hear you" she said walking as I followed, "I cannot afford to loose my position, not yet, the Gods have punished me already by not giving me children, I cannot have the lords realize the true reason"

"Auntie, the Gods may not have given you children but you know well that Joffrey and I love you like our true mother" I grabbed her hand "This is true, and whatever your passions we do not care nor do we judge" I paused, "The Gods themselves place these feelings in our hearts, how can they be wrong"

"My dearest child, you have to spend more time with Septa Talla instead of Maester Talos" she placed her hand upon my cheek, "You think of things future, not present and I'm afraid at one point your mind and intelligence will get you in troubles"

"Do not fret dear mother, now, who do you think will come?" I asked continuing our walk around the halls.

"You wish to know if you will catch the attention of a Prince" Jessamyn said in between giggles. "A pampered perfumed lord mayhaps?"

"Auntie!" I scolded her, "I do not have a desire for a pampered spoiled prince, nor an oaf as father would had wanted me to wed"

"Then, who do you seek dear child?" she asked intently as she held Aunt Jeyne's hand.

"I want a true, noble man" I said , "One of our lands perhaps? One that knows the value of the mountains and rivers and that is true to his word and vows"

"Maybe one of the envoys will be from the Riverlands, the Crownlands or even the Stormlands" auntie commented.

"Maybe"... I replied with a pensive expression.

[swanimagines]

The Bastard and the Blood Princess

Chapter 1

Read it on AO3 | Read it on Wattpad

The world is an evil place, and you have to be even worse if you wish to survive.

That was what your father always told you, ever since you were old enough to understand what words meant when put together. He wasn’t exactly a loving father, nor was he hiding who he was from you. From the very start, you were raised to be like him.

Maybe in your little heart, at times you were wondering if it’s right, if it meets your morals, if it’s really what you want. But you had been taught to shut it down - of course it’s right. It’s all you ever knew, and there was no other way.

One of your first memories had Pekka telling you how your parents sold you to him for money, and when he wouldn’t take you, they had told him to throw you to Reaper’s Barge if not else - that you’re a liability to them and not a son they had hoped. So Pekka had taken you in, and raised you to be the future Queen of the Barrel, ruling alongside Alby - the whole city of Ketterdam would be under Rollins rule, and his legacy could live on for centuries.

You were his most feared interrogator - pulling teeth and fingernails out was tame compared to what you would do to anyone who had been acting suspicious. Any snitch and spy would sing the moment you stepped into the room, which spared them their life. They usually still left the room without at least one body part, but at least they were alive.

You had earned yourself a name, a name that was whispered in the streets as you walked there - Blood Princess. It planted fear across the Dime Lion turf, and soon after you stepped in, Pekka no longer had spies and all of his men were kept straight and in order, never disobeying him.

But during the past years, there had been a growing threat in the Barrel - the Dregs had a new dog, and it was a mad one. It got equal fear in Dregs turf and quickly ate up more playground for them from other gangs, which made Dregs the second largest gang from Dime Lions.

At first, Pekka had been interested in this new Dregs member - Dirtyhands they called him. Maybe if he was offered a nice, thick stack of money, he’d leave the old Haskell and start working for Dime Lions instead. Maybe you’d get a friend to play with, Dirtyhands was around your age and seemed like he was equally willing to do things you did.

The boy had taken the money and burned them in front of Pekka, his eyes so full of hate and despise that Pekka almost would have thought he was indeed possessed by a demon, or that's what he told you. You were more than interested to see this Dirtyhands - Kaz Brekker his real name was - yourself, and a few times you did meet him briefly. It wasn’t a real meeting though, you never talked, only stared at each other while Pekka and Haskell were meeting, doing shallow deals, talking about turfs, negotiating after some fights - who crossed whose turf line. Two sides, you were your father’s right hand and Kaz was Haskell’s, you were mainly there to guard each other from doing any tricks.

But after Dregs had started taking small bits of Dime Lions' turf and claiming them as Dreg turf, Pekka snapped. He immediately summoned you to his office, and had an order for you to execute.

“Go to Kaz Brekker, convince him you want to help him get rid of Dime Lions,” he told you. “Do whatever you can to make him believe you, I know you can do it. Make him dance like a marionette. Then, cut off his strings and throw him into the Barge.”

You smirked, nodding. “I already have a story I’ll tell him. But for that, papa, I need to be beaten up.”

Pekka took in a deep breath and nodded towards his goons, and you followed them to another room where you endured an hour of being thrown across the walls, kicked and punched, until you coughed up blood and could barely walk.

Then, you forced yourself to get up and make your way towards the Dregs turf, towards the Slat.

You had a job to do, and it had to be done perfectly.

—

Something wet was splashed on your face, and you opened your eyes with a groan. You were met with a boot, which had an owner who splashed the muddy rain water on your face to wake up.

“Look, Hog. The Princess herself,” someone said, his laugh echoing in your ears and you rolled to your back with a groan.

Get yourself to the Slat.

“Help me,” you squeaked out. The two men laughed again, and you felt the other man nudge you with your boot again.

“A fancy place you got yourself into, Princess. Right in front of the Slat. Brekker will have fun tearing you apart,” the other man, Hog, said and you heard some shuffling. “Dijks, why don’t you get him?”

“Gladly, Hog.”

Slat. Good.

A few moments passed with you just lying there, before the door opened again and you heard an unmistakable sound of a cane clicking. Then, it was dead silent, just the sound of rain and occasional banter further away, as the three men stared at you.

Then, a raspy voice. Stone against stone, Kaz Brekker’s voice, said, “Bring her in. Tie her in the chair in the back room, I’ll deal with her later. Make sure her bindings hold.”

“Gladly, boss.”

You were hoisted up, and you saw everything in a blur. Brekker walked back inside as you were brought in, roughly dragged by these two idiots, Hog and Dijks.

You made a mental note that they’ll get killed next once Brekker is dead.

They threw you on a chair with more power than necessary, and then you saw the other man in front of you, spitting on your face. “My niece almost got killed because of you.”

Almost? Such a big crybaby.

But you knew you had to keep up your facade. “I’m sorry, I’m so–”

He slapped you. “Keep whining to yourself, maybe you’ll get killed faster.”

You shut up then, just sitting there with your head down, waiting for Kaz to appear through the door. And it took half an hour before you heard him walking towards that small, cold room where you sat tied up, being bruised, wet and dirty.

“Leave,” Kaz growled, and the two men immediately left the room, leaving you and Kaz alone. The crow beak of his cane dug to your chin as he forced you to look at him, and the moment you met his dark eyes, you let out a breath.

“Help me,” you whispered, and Kaz tilted his head. His brows furrowed - he was confused. Good.

Then, he scoffed. “Why would I help you?”

You took in a deep breath, trying to force yourself to sit up straighter. Then, you readied yourself to drop the bomb - you had to make it seem like you meant it, like you wanted it - like you were being honest. And if anything you had heard about Kaz Brekker, it was that he wasn’t easy to cheat, it was even impossible to cheat him, and trying it would only get you killed. But, you had a job to do and backing down wasn’t an option.

“I want to help you in getting rid of my father, Pekka Rollins - and to destroy Dime Lions.”

--

Taglist: This does not and will not have a taglist, so please don't ask to be added. If you want to get informed about new chapters, I recommend subscribing to the work in AO3. Or adding the story into your library in Wattpad, but I'd recommend getting AO3 account more.

[the-rogue-dragon]

@merelaes continues from here;

🔥DISCUSSING POLITICS WAS SOMETHING THEY BOTH tended to avoid, for the subject was not one the Prince of the City took well. He understood the view of Aemond - it was the same view of every westerosi men who had ever lived - and yet it did not meant it should be the only one. It certainly was not. Earlier in his life, Daemon too had believed only men could sit the Iron Throne, but then he learned different, and from that day on, he had seen women differently as well.

Discussing history however, rarely meant that the subject, both dragons danced around, would not be mentioned. For history could not truly be discussed without mentioning politics. Since it remembered not only names but actions, and most of them - if not all - were somewhat always related to politics. To a cause they fought for and a cause that made them important enough to be remembered. "I wheel can be broken yet it rarely is." He said as he abandoned his own book. "Look at our family for example, ever since Aegon the Conqueror took over Westeros, House Targaryen continues to fight itself for a right on the throne."

It was true that power blinded them, and whoever saw themselves stronger to the claim - be this by physical strength or character - they would not see brothers or sisters, or nephews and uncles, they would see one goal and one goal alone. To own the throne, no matter how many lives that piece of broken swords it had taken, it would always continue to do so. "Perhaps a women in power is exactly what we need." He suggested. "As you said, if Rhaenyra becomes Queen, the wheel will indeed be broken, and it may be what the realm needs. A change."

There was nothing in particular he wished to speak with Aemond - at least nothing he was going to share at the moment - but the other did not need to hear such on such a peaceful night. "Just discussing history I'm afraid. We both enjoy the subject perhaps too much for our own good." The Prince said with a small smirk on his lips. Yet it was obvious there was a subject he wished to bring forward, but he decided to avoid it for the time being.

[opinated-user]

the new video of LO...

-claims that every trans woman (trans men and non binary people don't count) always hated Rocky Horror Picture Show. show no record of this. while doing so she makes a joke about "i know you all know that trans women existed during this time period because you all think one was the one who started Stonewall" while flashing a picture of Marsha... according to her own word, Marsha didn't threw the first brick but she was there resisting the police and she did plenty of activist work for the trans youth of NY. this is the first time that i remember her even mentioning Marsha's name so it feels... dismissive and kinda gross make a direct reference to her just to diminish her role on LGBT+ history without further context of her other accomplishments that only recently got any recognition at all. LO already throws to the trash the work of LGBT+ black activists of the past on a regular basis when she goes on her queerphobic rants so this doesn't make it any better.

-at 3:14 LO says at the time RHPS came out cis gay men didn't cared for what trans women had to say (who "didn't really cared much about"? LO really needs an editor) because the movie "it's a film that had all the decandent fucking around and rape they could want, dancing to shitty songs because that is the only thing some of us still care about apparently" (while showing a picture of a character in SU sampling "Other Friends"... and heather the musical for some reason.).

if you were wondering it, that was indeed a homophobic mask off moment. to insist that gay men (which i don't know if LO realizes includes MOC) enjoy rape more than any other demographic is homophobia. make a direct connection between enjoyment of rape and cis gay, or any kind of gay man, is homophobia given the long, long history of gay men as predators. LO seems to be under the assumption that only trans women have been accused of such a thing but that can't be further from the truth. at some point everyone on the community had that accusation thrown to their face, but before bigoted people concerned themselves about "bathroom laws", they concerned themselves about gay men being teachers or becoming parents or being around children on any capacity because to some gay men were all pedophiles, all predators, all rapists. to some they still are. that's why gay characters existing is considered "grooming" for them.

LO's basically whistleblowing decades old homophobia. racism too if we take into account how many black cis gay men also enjoyed the film.

this is disgusting.

-LO claims that the only trans people she has seen defending/liking the film are millenials calling it an icon without ever explaining why does it deserve that status besides the "terrible music and fucking." this is because she has barely actually researched on this or she actively refuses to concede that the movie could have done anything positive beside being about rape and music.

-LO compares an old anime called Hibari with "Quagmire Dad" episode. at least now she brings out that Hibari also had some racist elements (over anti-blackness actually) that she "forgot" to mention before because of her bad flu.

only now she tries to say that both those pieces of media portrayed very real transphobia that trans women are at risk for as jokes, which makes them less able to be taken seriously by the public, and... that is the only criticism she thinks that episode deserves. many trans people have criticized the show for many reasons and this is the first time ever she recognizes the slightest negative point about it, but she's still under the (unjustified) idea that the episode is actually trans positive because "it's mocking the bigots."

how convenient that the only trans people worth listening are those that LO agrees with in order to defend her favourite show.

-at 6:23 she blames people calling her out for being a creep and a predator with receipts on why her last video was so bad.

"fickle patronage" means more fans abandoning her because they didn't find anything on her content worth supporting with their money, and that it's their fault and not LO's because she has never done anything wrong.

that "right wing pickme" is a trans femme youtuber who continuesly makes videos calling out transphobia from a leftist perspective. who LO has misgendered multiple times, admitted to it and justified it anyway when said trans femme youtuber called her out on being openly a creep with her audience, some of them minors.

-at 6:45 she says that only the opinion of trans women count on RHPS... with the implication being that opinion is always going to be negative, because she certainly didn't made any mention about how Laverne Cox acted on the reboot or how other trans women had positive opinions about the film.

none of this is to say that there can't be issues with the movie or reboot still or that anyone who doesn't like it is wrong for doing so. but LO's actually advocating for sucking all the nuance out from the whole topic to have one unified, one single opinion that erases or leaves on the dust the experience of many other queer people.

-at 7:34 LO "jokingly" imitates what she thinks is a souther accent where she "jokingly" uses the n-word but it's censored.

-a cheapshot to "fandom racism", something we have discussed before LO either doesn't really understand or only uses to weaponize against character she doesn't like, given how much she ignores actual examples of it in fandom or happily engages on it herself by holding a POC protagonist to unfair standards she doesn't hold for the rest of the cast.

-LO insist that "a problem with LGBT+ white spaces" is that they don't know that the right way to deal with problematic media is to do it critically... said the white passing Cherokee appropiating woman who can't even accept criticism for Disney actively sabotaging their first movie where the queerness of a main character is actually part of the plot and not easily edited it out.

-at 9: 17 LO engages way too gleefuly on a fantasy where she grabs two writers of WOW and the woman who writes novels about Sylvannas to "beat them to death with a fucking rock because they're vile human beings who get off to the suffering of women and non white people." reminder that LO has barely said anything about the actual real harassment that the real women employees suffered at the company... no, she only has an issue with the writers and the direction of the story of WOW has taken.

she cares more about how Sylvannas, a fictional blonde white woman, was treated than how real women were actually traumatized.

-at 9:32 she add that she'd beat Rowling with the same rock.

-at 10: 46 she "jokingly" says the n-word again but it's censored, without the bad accent. it wasn't funny the first time, it isn't funny now.

-the conclusion is not terrible... but coming from LO's so full of double standards, bad arguments and contradictions that it's hard to ignore.

[catyo90]

Okay this has been in my brain for weeks and I would love to see two fics. One with Elendil and/or Thorin saving the reader. I'll leave the rest of the ideas to you but I had to ask.

Elendil x F!Reader: Rescue

(Thorin one will be out soon.)

It had been a few months now since you and the others had left Numenor, you breathed in salty as you were reminded every day that you loved the sea. You had been part of the sea guard since you first showed promise for ventures on the open sea. You couldn't even remember the last time you stepped onto land believing it to be home. The ocean indeed was your home, and your fellow crew were your family. You knew them in and out, secrets and vows never spoken out of the company. However you always felt like a piece of you was missing, as if the sea could not give you want you wished. That was until you met him

"Y/n"

You turned around seeing your captain at the bow of the ship as the salty air swirled around you making you sigh in a calm manner. Elendil's voice and look upon you made you realize that all your life you dreamed of a man like him. Serious yes but never so severe you couldn't have fun together, skilled in blade and master over the seas as if he were Ulmo himself. The setting sun only elevated his features as the stars started to appear one by one. It was a sight you could live with being your last.

"Isenria sighted a few dive beasts a few nights back. Best not to lean too close to the edge. Other wise you'd fall off" He said as he walked over to you with his ever-so-charming smirk. The smirk you fell in love with when you first met him. At the time he was a new recruit in the guard like yourself joking on his own father's ship with some men about how the sea was so beautiful that no women could compare. Until you realized he had stopped himself and thought for a moment before he turned his gaze to you and spoke.

"Well, maybe one..." he said as he nonchalantly crossed his arms with a smirk looking down at you. You remembered how quiet the others were. You simply thought the best way to handle it was lightly pushing him and laughing at such a jest causing the others to laugh along. But in truth at that moment you had fallen completely in love with him and from then on you promised to yourself to always be there for him.

-

"Elendil, how many years have you and I ventured into the sea? It will not claim me or you so easily."

"Well, one can never be too careful." He said as turned to the newest of recruits, only a few of them had even been on a ship in full tides.

"Do you remember when we were that young, star-eyed cadets dreaming of lands never seen by elves or man?"

"Well you, of course, had more adventurous blood in you Y/n, I mean you even "borrowed" your family's prized ship when you were no older than Isildur."

"True but If recall correctly Elendil, you did the same with your fathers?"

"No, my best friend did that...I simply helped get the sails and anchor set."

You couldn't help but smile at him as a small laugh escaped your lips as you remembered the boys taking the ship into the harbour only to get stuck in the fishing areas causing them to hide in fish barrels.

You smiled as you looked over to the recruits to see them dancing and singing the night away as you crossed your arms until a sudden chilled wind blew harshly at both of you. You almost lost your footing if it were not for Elendil wrapping an arm around you and holding you both still by grabbing onto the ledge. You looked over the horizon to see a sea of dark clouds swarming close by.

"A storm? This far east?" you asked looking up at Elendil who seemed troubled by the sight of lightning as well.

"That is no kind storm. Get the men above deck prepared, I'll wake the others." He said as he hurried downstairs as the waves were becoming stronger with every second.

"Everyone prepare the sails, tie down the supplies and tie your lifelines good and tight," you yelled out as the recruits hurried to their feet.

As the storm approached the ship was becoming increasingly hard to navigate through the storm. You could see some of the crew pulling hard on the ropes, attempting to keep the sails up though you knew it would not be enough.

" Haul on the brace." You yelled out

Just then all of the crew gasped as a large wave hit the side of the water causing some of them to get splashed hard by the water. In the decks below, some of them were trying to pump the water out of the ship. You could hear Elendil yelling down at them from the stairs.

"Faster! She's taking on more water!"

You looked up to see some of the men struggling with the sail and hurried over to Elendil.

"Go up and help them, I'll manage them down here."

He simply did as you said. The water kept splashing around roughly as you tried helping one of the guards to tie the lifelines. All you could hear was the battering of the waves against the ship as the men cried out a warning. You felt the wave hit your side knocking you into the post as you managed to check all the lifelines were accounted for.

"Watch out! Aah!"

Just then, another thunderous splash causes one of the nearby ropes to break off and smash into the side of the ship causing the large supply crates to fall overboard. You tried tieing the remaining supplies down but the rocking of the ship caused the weight to push against you. Pins and needles were how your legs felt as you used all your strength to brace the boxes. You looked up at the sail rails and shouted up to Elendil as the others are trying to hold the sails up.

"Elendil! Get down here! The supplies are falling overboard!"

Elendil noticed more water pouring onto the upper decks and some of the rope tearing apart. You saw him hurry as he swiftly grabbed the mast's rope, sliding down to the ground before giving the orders.

"Reef the topsails!"

He came to your side, helping you hold the last of the remaining supplies against the wall. Both of you caught your breath as the rain drenched both of you as you felt him put a hand on your shoulder.

"It's alright, Y/n."

Suddenly the cries of one of the men echoed throughout the whole ship. "Say your prayers!" A wave began to lift up the ship before both of you noticed the front being splashed. Both of you saw an enormous scaly fin break the surface of the water. Whatever that creature was it was not here to help. Suddenly out of the corner of your eye, you heard a large snapping sound as you looked behind Elendil to see one of the sail lines had broken and was about to hit him.

"Elendil, watch out!"

You pushed him out of the way when you were hit hard by the rope making you hit the edge of the ship feeling your body falling past it as you saw Elendil reaching a hand out to you, you reached out in turn but it was too late as the hard impact from the rope, caused you to go overboard as you hit your head on the railing. A huge wave crashed over the deck as you were swept into the roaring waves disappearing from everyone's sight.

-

Everything was silent as your body hit the cold unforgiving waves, your lungs felt like they were burning as you struggled to gasp at the air before the waves took over. Your eyes were losing focus as you noticed the waves were getting darker and darker. The shadows in the water reveal what was done there with you. A sea serpent, you could see its scales reflecting even in the low light. Your mind wandered off as you smiled to yourself, he was safe, you could die a little less sad than most knowing your last action was saving him.

-

Elendil POV

Elendil mind and heart were racing in tow, his eyes widened at the sight of you falling overboard as the sounds of the heavy winds howled in his ears. Almost on instinct did he quickly look over the rampart before tieing a rope around his waist.

"Pull the pin, Now"

"Sir! It is too late, the waves are too strong you won't reach her in time."

"I don't care, do as I say!"

Before any of the others could protest he dashed overboard diving down into the water. He came up for a moment to catch his breath before diving once more under the waves as the rest of the crew on the deck watched frozen in horror as you both were swept down below.

-

Your body feels colder as you see a white tunnel, and your thoughts wander to him once more.

'Elendil...'

Before you feel the air being brought to your lungs. You open your eyes ever so to feel and see Elendil's lips on yours quite literally breathing life back into you. You feel his arm around under your arms as you can feel him swimming up to break the surface. You can barely hear him speaking to you as the storm continues to rage on.

"Hang on, Y/n. I have you."

"E...e...Elendil" you said weakly as you could feel him holding you closer to him.

You both coughed a bit before being pulled in by the others as you both were lifted upward feeling the others gripping tight onto both of you pulling you two onto the deck. You both landed on the deck just as the storm began to die down. You felt your body being placed gently on the deck and just as quickly did you feel a hand on your cheek as you heard his voice calling out your name.

"Y/n...Look at me. Are you alright?"

You quickly sat up as you coughed up some seawater to the side, you looked up at him and simply caught your breath as you embraced him close. You felt him embracing you close with a hand on the back of your head and the other wrapping around your smaller frame. He looked at his hand though feeling blood on the back of your head.

You could hear the other guards question if you were alright but your mind went blank as you felt Elendil pick you up in his arms from the deck and walked you back to your chambers. The last orders given were only to leave you two alone unless it was an emergency. The last thing you remembered was him placing you in your bed taking off your wet clothes not taking anything else off before covering you in blankets. You could have sworn though that you felt him kiss your forehead but you weren't truly sure.

-

By the time you awoke from your slumber, it was deep into the late hours of the night. You gripped your head as a sharp pain took over as you felt a bandage around your head. You carefully stepped out of bed before you remembered that Elendil has saved you. You weaved past the rooms of the sleeping guards. You reached the upper deck stairs and saw extra blankets had been strewn about the main deck for those who volunteered to sleep beneath the stars. The others must have filled the primary cabins to the brim.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" one of them asked as you slowly walked past them toward the captain's quarters.

"Heed me no worry. I just need to see him." You said causing them to wonder and worry at the same time.

You quietly stepped inside, nearly tripping over your own feet as you tried to regain your strength. The sound of the door closing behind you caused Elendil to sit up right in his bed with only a thin silk shirt on with a blade in hand (should the issues of cutthroats arise). It felt like a relief when you saw him looking at you as you clutched your head.

"You're safe...Thank the Valar." You said as you stepped carefully closer not realizing that he had rushed out of the bed to you carefully putting his arms around your space being careful not to hurt you.

"Y/n?! You shouldn't be up, you should be resting."

"I'm sorry. I just had to know you were alright. I...I" You weakly hit his chest as you started to cry a little.

'You idiot. I save your life and you were gonna throw it away to save me. Why? You're more important, the others would've needed you to survive."

He smiled to himself, he brought his arms around you completely as he hushed you in a soft gentle manner. He gently walked you over to the bed and sat you down on it as he pulled one of the warmer thicker blankets from the bed and wrapped it around you. You spared a glance at him as he brought a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

"Y/n, I would do it again...a million times over if need be if it meant you were safe and sound. The thought of you being dead...I can't imagine."

You closed your eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the hull of your ship as you brought your hand over his, the warmth coming from him was most welcome. So much so you could feel the strength leave your body as you laid your head against his shoulder.

"I should get you back to your bed." He said as he was about to stand up but you stopped him as you gently spoke in a tired voice.

"Please, might I stay in your cabin? I don't mean to bother you, I...I just don't want to be alone tonight."

You felt the bed dip. as you looked up to see him with a small smile on his face as he gently helped you into the bed, and asked, “Only if you truly want that."

Always the gentleman he was. Elendil’s eyes were slightly hazy from the ale he had partaken in earlier. He was, however, sober enough to know he would not try anything.

“I'm not afraid of sharing a bed,” you said jokingly as you smiled up at him. You shifted a bit when the weight of him caused the bed to shift. Along with the large waves rocking the ship, you were almost nearly knocked into his chest as he made himself comfortable next to you. Rolling onto your back, you gripped his hand holding it close. With closed eyes, Elendil chuckled tiredly.

"Elendil...Thank you...For everything."

He gently shushed you pulling you closer onto the sheets. You glanced at him again as he carefully placed your head on the pillow. He was partially leaning over you now, balancing on his other hand as he looked down at you. Your imagination got the better of you when his eyes seemed to glance fleetingly at your lips. In my dreams, maybe, you thought.

Your personal sentiments might have surprised others, but you had no gripes on admitting to yourself that Elendil was a handsome man. However, life on the high seas left no time for such things.

Unbeknownst to you, He felt the same. Especially now as he gazed down at your tired form, looking so sweet as you lay beneath him cuddling up to him. He failed in stopping his eyes from glancing at your lips. He had always wanted you, despite the fact that such a thing seemed impossible. But he couldn’t help it.

"Y/n...I must ask...Will you allow me to kiss you?"

Your eyes opened wide as you looked up from the pillows. His hand pressed against your cheek. He was barely holding himself up with the other as he simply waited to see what you would say. You nodded and as quick as lightning did you feel him gently feel his lips against yours. Meanwhile, your arms quickly wrapped themselves around his shoulders and your fingers weaved into his thick, brunette locks.

Your eyes closed as you felt him pull you almost impossibly close. He grunted, falling onto his elbows when you did so. His heavy chest was flush against yours as you gently pulled away and looked directly into his silver eyes.

"I love you Elendil...truly I do."

He paused at your words. He panted heavily against you, slowly pulling away. He smiled down at you as his hands moved to rest against your jawline and the pads of his thumbs gently traced over your cheekbones. He returned to his original position of lying next to you. This time, however, he brought you with him.

Resting on his back, one of his hands went beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling. His other arm tucked you tightly into his side. His fingertips gently caressed your clothed hip, repeatedly trailing up and down. He tilted his head to look at you with an amused smirk.

"I love you too."

Once more he kissed your lips before covering both of you in the blankets and leaning over to turn off the oil lamp nearby. The only thing left to do was to get some much-needed rest. At least for now.

[siempre-bucky]

can i please request a blurb for benedict bridgerton with the dialogue prompts:

18. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

+

19. “Let yourself cry, I’m here now. You’re safe.”

+

25. “I won’t let them put their hands on you.”

i love your writing btw! <3

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

warnings: brief mentions of blood, the reader puts Nigel Berbrooke in his place

wc: 937

a/n: thank you so much for requesting! I hope you liked it♡

You exited the crowded ballroom with a giggle in your voice as you gasped for the fresh nighttime air. Placing your hand over your heaving chest, you sat on the small bench near the door, looking out at the beautiful grounds. Taking the time to catch your breath, you felt as if the whole world was spinning. Though in part was from one of the young men spiking the lemonade, but you didn't mind. 

Looking down at your filled dance card, one name stood out. Benedict Bridgerton scribbled his name on most of the spots. He had claimed he didn't want anyone coming near you wil ill intent, but the blush across his cheeks told you differently. Was it a secret that you were in love with the second eldest Bridgerton? No. Was it a secret that Benedict was in love with you? Perhaps a little. 

"Miss Y/N," Lord Berbrooke called your name as he made his way out onto the patio. 

A cold chill went through you. You grimised to yourself before looking up . "Hello, Lord Berbrooke," you greeted curtly. 

"Lovely outside, isn't it?" 

"Indeed. It's very pleasent after all the excitment inside." You watched as he paced back and forth in front of you, making you shift in your seat uncomfortably. He reminded you of a buzzard circling his wounded prey. 

This was the perfect time to make your getaway. While Nigel's back was turned, you slowly slid off the bench and stood up, keeping eye contact with his turned back.

The pudgy man some how sensed your leave and turned to you, cracking a smile, "Care to join me for a dance?" he asked as he held out a gloved hand. 

"I am rather tired, my lord. I wish to take a longer break," you decline, trying to be as polite as possible. 

The man saw right through you! He narrowed his wrinkle ridden eyes and huffed like a child. "You know, Miss, it's rude to decline a dance from a gentleman." 

"It is also rude to force a young lady into doing something she does not want to," you bit back. "I am tired and require a break."

"What a mouth on you," he purred, looking up at you like you were on the nights menu. "You will dance with me immedietly." 

"No, and with your lack of respect, you are the last man I would ever dance with, Lord Berbrooke. The pig on the table looks to be a better partner." 

Rage boiled within him, the whites of his eyes turning a bright pink, and the little vein in his neck was bulging out from his cravat. You'd be laughing if the sight of him balling his fists didn't scare you. "Why you little," he spoke slowly, getting angier with each word, his hand raising to smack you. 

"Leave her alone!" Benedict shouted from behind you. Before you could react to the Bridgerton, you balled your fist and punched him square in the nose. With a crack and a grunt, Nigel dropped to his knees with crimson blood coating the stone walkway. 

The smell of iron made you shutter as you silently thanked your papa for the boxing lessons. Benedict placed his hands on your shoulders "Are you alright?" he asked as he looked down at Nigel in shock. 

"I-I don't..." you trailed, unsure what to think. All the young men were nothing but cordial at these events towards you. You knew these types of men were out there, but you didn't think you'd ever interact with one. 

"It's going to be ok, I promise," he whispered as he took you by the arm to lead you away from the scene. "Colin, take care of this," he instructed his brother who was standing dumbfounded at the door. 

He walked you to the other side of the estate, finally letting go of your arm. You wish he didn't; you liked the way he held on to you, you felt safe with him. "Benedict," you managed. 

"I don't know what you wish for me to say," he said after a moment of silence, taking his place next to you and leaning on the stone pillar. You had always hated pity, dismissing your friend whenever someone made a snide comment.  

"What's the first thing that comes to your mind?" 

I love you. That was Benedict's first thought, but he couldn't say that just yet, not after that incident. He looked down at your shaking hands, a patch of blood spreading on the knuckles of your gloves. Instantly, the artist took your hands in his "I won't let him or anyone put their hands on you. I should have been there." 

"Benedict," you sighed as you shook your head, "I handeled it. I am unharmed." 

"Still, I shouldn't have left your side." 

Tears sprung to your eyes, the emotion of it all becoming to much to bare. "I couldn't believe he nearly hit me," you grunted, trying not to let your voice waver. Benedict saw the tears gloss over your eyes, and he did what he thought was best. He released your hands and pulled you into a tight hug, placing his chin on the top of your head. 

"Let yourself cry, it's just me... I'm here. You're safe," he cooed. 

You sniffled and clutched onto the fabric of his coat. "I only wish I would have hit him harder." 

Benedict laughed, "You have a mean right cross, Y/N." 

"I shall teach you one day." 

On impulse, he kissed your forehead. Instead of freezing at the feeling of his lips, you completely melted into him. 

[janedoebutimnotdead]

Take this silly little Monique fic I wrote months ago

The smoke from her cigarette filled Monique Gibeau's room. Sitting in front of her fireplace, she was reading the poem that she had just composed by the firelight. She had written it after his last client; a man Monique didn't know what his name was.

She took another drag on her cigarette, feeling how the smoke intoxicated her lungs, her life, her soul. She wrote a few more verses and put the cigarette over her ear, as if it were a pencil. Beneath her poem, she pressed her lips against the paper, as if she were giving it a kiss. As a result, her lips were impregnated by the perfume in which she always intoxicated her poems, trying to camouflage the oppressive smell of smoke.

She watched her kiss, caught up in her poem. That was her signature. Her red lips. The same lips that had known the bodies of hundreds of men. Men who claimed to love her. Men who lied. Men.

Monique folded the paper in half and held it close to the fireplace. One of the flames reached it and began to burn it. Monique just let the poem burn in her hands, feeling the heat on her fingers, watching the yellowish paper turn black, crackling, dancing as it was consumed. She threw what was left of her poem into the flames to let it die.

She picked up the cigarette and took the last drag. She analyzed it and then stuck it in her chest. She closed her eyes and hissed in pain. A physical pain that literally made her burn. It hurt, of course it hurt; her fucking skin was burning. But that was one of her many addictions. The round scars that covered her body were proof of this. So was her tobacco smell, her alcohol breath. But those were her other addictions. Now what matters are the burns.

She removed the already consumed cigarette from her skin and buried it in the fire. Admiring her new mark, her burning flesh, she could not do anything but laugh. That was the only way she had to prove that she was still alive. Although, indeed, she was not. Monique Gibeau had been dead for so long that she could no longer remember what it was like to be alive.

 

The snow under her thighs made a stark contrast to her cigarette, once again stuck in her chest. She buried it in the snow without bothering to look at her new scar and laboriously managed to get to her feet. She staggered through the streets with the winter sun on her back. The streets were too empty for a Paris morning. There were people, too many well-dressed people, too many people who think they are better than the rest because they have a stupid pocket watch or a ridiculous fur coat.

Monique was used to noise and the feeling of not having space. Such were the brothels in which she had worked. Full of music, colors, drinks, colors, boozy-floozy flashing lights. She would never admit it, but she missed those times.

She walked, hugging herself, lost in her reveries. She was unaware of the stares and whispers that followed her. She only realized it when a boy a little older than her gave her a loud spanking on one of her buttocks. She turned and looked at the boy, who was smiling mischievously at her. Monique was about to say something to him when an itch in her throat prevented her from speaking. She began to cough, covering her mouth with her hand while, with the other one, she leaned against a wall. The boy was still there, taunting her and laughing at her suffering.

When Monique was finally able to remove her hand from her mouth, she saw that it was stained red. But it wasn't lipstick, no; it was blood. Blood dripped from his mouth and trickled down his chin like a rivulet. She wiped blood from her hand on her black dress and looked back at the boy.

"Do me a favor and leave me alone," he told her.

"Do me a favor. I can pay you very well.”

"Leave me alone" she insisted and tried to leave.

The boy then grabbed her arm and threw her to the ground. Seeing herself once again in the snow and as tired as she was, Monique could only hope that everything would go quickly. The boy kicked him in the belly that took his breath away.

"If I tell you to do me a favor, you do me a fucking favor."

Monique watched as people walked by without looking at her. The bastard was killing her and nobody cared. She was just one of the many whores in Paris. It was not important. The sunlight, reflected from the knife that she always wore in her fishnet stockings (“to help her clear things up,” as she used to say), fell on her pale eyes, now bright and calm, knowing that they would close forever in only a matter of time.

But the boy lunged at her and Monique felt him lift her short dress. It wasn't the first time she was experiencing that, but she knew that it would be the last time. She had no dignity left, but she wanted to keep her honor.

She picked up her knife and plunged it into the boy's stomach, who screamed in pain. Monique pushed him off her and withdrew the knife to plunge it once more. And again. And again. And again… Ten times she stabbed him. She got up and started running.

She walked away from there going into an alley. She stumbled and fell to the ground. She kicked off her heels and tossed them to get up and run even faster. Never before had she felt so alive.

At the end of the alley, stood the Church. Monique heard the bells; Mass was over and people were going back to their chores. The last to leave was the priest.

Monique slumped down, exhausted. She coughed up blood again, staining the snow. It seemed that all the blood around her was hers when, really, the vast majority belonged to the boy she just murdered. She started to feel tired. Without really knowing if it was because of the traumatic situation she had just experienced, her weakness or the fact that she was at death's door. She just wanted to fall asleep.

But she heard the heavy footsteps of someone approaching. Monique turned, devastated at the thought of not being able to die in peace.

It was the priest.

"My child." The man told her. "What are you doing?"

“I am dying, Father. Can't you tell?" She responded ironically.

She had been sick for weeks, but she did not have enough money to afford medicine. The man, seeing that the girl was so weak, kneaded down to her.

"Do you want to confess anything?”

"I'm afraid if I do that you will be the one who is about to die."

Monique sighed and snuggled deeper into the snow, waiting for her tragic end. She was too cold; she craved heat.

"Could you grant me one last wish?" She muttered not bothering to look at the man. Then, without letting him answer, she went on. “Give me a cigarette and fire. And help me sit up."

As perplexed as the priest was, he agreed and obeyed the girl. He helped her sit up, leaning her back against one of the walls of the alley. When he was sure she was comfortable, he took out a cigarette and lit it. She took it, whispering a weak “thanks”. She pressed her lips together and let the smoke billow out her nose.

“I won't bother you anymore, Father. I am running out of time."

Her voice was growing hoarse and shaky.

"If you had been a good Christian this would not have ended like this."

“What does it mean for you to be a good christian, Father? Those who go to Mass on Sundays and then ignore the unfortunates who are born, live and die on the street are good christians? But it doesn’t matter in the end, does it? By praying a little they go straight to Heaven.”

The cough attacked her again. The priest observed her in silence, asking if it was really worth staying with that sick sinner on her deathbed. Monique vomited on the snow once again. She kept coughing and choking on her own blood, several strands of her black hair sticking to her pale face. The priest didn't even bother to hold back her hair.

When he saw how Monique leaned her head against the wall sweating, with her chest heaving and that expression of suffering, he knew that the long-awaited moment had finally arrived for both of them.

"My child, do you have any final words to the Lord you’d like to say?"

Monique opened her eyes, took a drag, and let the smoke illustrate the words she was about to say. The last words of Monique Gibeau.

"Oui. Tell him that, like him, I choose to burn rather than fade away."

She smiled, showing her yellowed, blood-stained teeth, and stuck the cigarette into her chest. The cigarette slipped from her hand and landed on her thigh but, for the first time, she didn't feel the pain.

The priest got up and walked away from there, without even closing her eyes. He left her in that alley alone and dead which was, ironically, how she had always been. Her cigarette was lit for a few more minutes, as it began to snow. And, very little by little, the snow buried the cigarette and, with it, Monique Gibeau.