#prince charmings and their blacksmith

[primacuey]

I was daydreaming about them

new style i wanted toooooo tryyyyy

[forgeofthenine]

Not a request this time, just a little fic based off the song 'Mrs Hollywood' by Go-Jo. Reader is Tav and they/them pronouns are used throughout.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, next one up will be a set of headcanons :)

The three times you leave Dammon, and the one time you stay

the first time

The excitement reaches its peak around the forge, tieflings bustling to and fro as they prepare. Dammon pauses at his forge, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before turning towards the familiar crunch of gravel.

"Hey stranger." He jokes, turning towards you. "Or maybe I should call you 'our hero' now." The correction comes as he turns fully, eyes taking in the figure before him.

God he wishes they could stay, that he and his forge could be enough. But they have their destiny ahead of them. Dammon is already sure he'll be but a small part.

"I heard you weren't coming to the party, I wanted to say goodbye to my favourite blacksmith." His chest tightens as you say the words, not wanting to let you leave, but Dammons knows this is how things need to be.

"It's hardly goodbye, you'll see us again soon, won't you?" The question is one neither can really know the answer to, but they smile and nod anyway and that's enough for Dammon.

The second time

They'd been lounging on the hay in his forge, two days of idle chatting as he worked and asking that ox with much to human eyes random questions.

The assault on Ketheric Thorm has kept them all busy, Dammon at his forge, them trying to form a plan. "What if I just have Gale disintegrate him, Dammon?" The question comes from the corner of the room, where they sit by the open arches.

"Can Gale disintegrate him?" Dammon asks, pulling back from his whetstone. "Maybe you should just use this." He gives the sword a little flourish, holding it out to them. Jumping from the mess of a hay bale, they reach for the sword.

"Oh, this is beautiful..." hands delicately take it, admiring it before stowing it away safe in it's sheath. Just as Dammon thinks nothing they do could surprise him, they're already pulling him into a hug.

Arms wrap tight around his chest as they press in close to him. "Thank you Dammon, I feel like my words just aren't enough." They murmur, Dammons own arms looping close around their waist.

"Just come back alive, that's enough, don't keep me here waiting."

The third time

Rolans words pause as the footfalls of boots echo up the stairs to Dammons new forge, and the blacksmiths attention turns towards the potential customer.

Excitement courses through Dammon as he sees them crest the top of the stairs, a bright smile adorning their face as they wave. "Hi Dammon! Oh, is Rolan here too?" They ask, looking between the two tieflings.

"A few things broke at his new tower during your fight, I'm just giving a quote at how much it'll be to fix." Dammon explains, seeing the way Rolan eyes how his tail sways as he focuses attention on them. It's hard to contain himself, but they'll never know or realise, the way his body reacts only obvious to other Tieflings.

"Well, I know you're busy, but I needed someone to look at my sword. It took a bit of a beating while we were, uh, doing an errand for Astarion." The end sounds more like question than fact, but Dammon hardly minds as he carefully takes the sword from their hands.

"No problem, I'll have it done by tomorrow. So long as the absolute don't invade the city by then." He winks at them, smiling as they laugh and turn away.

"I'll be back, then!" They throw up a hand as they start to walk away. "See you later Dammon, bye Rolan. As they leave a steady silence falls over the two men, Rolans eyebrow raising slightly.

"Still waiting in line for them, then, prince charming?"

Dammons only reply is to hang his head in his hands.

The time you stay

Parties rage through the streets, the celebration of the absolutes control finally being destroyed. Fireworks fizz and pop outside, children shout and squeal, men sing merry drinking songs.

It's no surprise Dammon stays inside. He's never been one for parties, that much is obvious. What is less obvious is why someone is knocking on his door so late.

Opening it with a stifled yawn, he soon sees the very object of his affections. Standing up straighter, opening the door wider to let them in, one question runs through his mind. "What could bring you here on a night like this?" He's in near disbelief, almost wondering if he nodded off as is dreaming.

"The parties are great and all but..." they trail off, looking down to their feel as they toe the wooden floor. Glancing up again, they finish their thought. "But they don't include you, Dammon."

He can't help the way he pulls them in by the arm, this time being the one to start the impromptu hug. Tail wrapping loosely around their leg as they sigh against his chest, Dammon feels the way their body sags against him.

"Stay." He tells them, face pressing into their hair, bodies curling around each other. "Stay with me this time, I've been waiting so long." The hands gripping his clothing hold him tighter, their face pulling from his chest to look him in the eye.

"Kiss me Dammon. I won't be leaving again." They barely get to finish their sentence, a hand finding the side of their face as Dammon does the very thing he's dreamt about for so long.

Even the fireworks outside can't compare to the ones when they finally kiss.

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Moonlight & Fang Masterlist

Fantasy/Little Red Riding Hood/ABO AU

Alpha!Jax Teller, Dean Winchester, Captain Syverson, Ari Levinson, Bucky Barnes x OC Omega!Selene/Red

Their sweet words fall like bittersweet honey. Lacing pain and menace under a sugary facade. Coating everything. Sticky, sweet and unthreatening. All earth and warmth. The best disguise for unsuspecting beings, with open hearts and damaged souls. A succulent entree for her sharp teeth to feast upon. For she is made of moonlight and fang. All charm and soulful eyes. While hiding an all encompassing darkness inside. Sinful lips with a deadly tongue. Patiently waiting for her prey to become safe and lucid. Drunk off of her words and lingering touch. When their red hoods fall, exposing the softness of their throats. Her eyes become bigger, as her hunger and lust for flesh grows. Just one bite and she'll change your life.

My, oh my.

What big fangs you have my dear.

Word Count: 21k

Warnings: 18+ Only

Original Female Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Blood and Violence, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Alpha/Omega, Morally Ambiguous Character, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Fluff

Chapters:

Little Red

The Orphan

The Hunter

The Blacksmith

The Rogue

The Forgotten Prince

Balance

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

To Build a Home

I hope its not too rude to ask this, and if it is please ignore!!! but i would absolutely adore if u could write a fic abt arthur finding out abt Merlins magic and banishing him, morgana (which at this point is already an antagonist) finds him n after a while (figuring out merlin was banished) becomes absolutely furious with Arthur and protective of Merlin, but guess what!! Arthur regrets his decision and doesn’tknow how to fix this or even find merlin!!! – laconiceuphony

Hey! Would you be willing to write some Merlin/Gwaine? I don't really mind what about, but angsty Merlin and hurt/comfort are always good. Thank you <3 – anon

Hey, idk if you’re accepting asks still but if so I’d love it if you would write some h/c with Merlin! I love your writing <3 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms

Pairings: gwaine/merlin, merthur, gwaine/merlin/arthur

Word Count: 5770

"Sorcery is illegal in Camelot." Merlin bows his head, awaiting the swing of Arthur's sword. The metal stings where it kisses his bare neck. A slight breeze as the sword is raised. He closes his eyes and waits for the end. He startles at the thunk of the sword impaling the ground mere whispers from his kneeling body. "I hereby banish you," comes Arthur's voice, only it is cold and foreign and the voice of a King, "do not return to Camelot. Ever." Arthur banishes Merlin from Camelot. Gwaine goes with him and they carve out a little piece of the world, just for themselves. Is it enough?

"Sorcery is illegal in Camelot."

Merlin bows his head, awaiting the swing of Arthur's sword. The metal stings where it kisses his bare neck. A slight breeze as the sword is raised. He closes his eyes and waits for the end.

He startles at the thunk of the sword impaling the ground mere whispers from his kneeling body.

"I hereby banish you," comes Arthur's voice, only it is cold and foreign and the voice of a King, "do not return to Camelot. Ever."

***

Gwaine has never been a man to pursue the 'grand things' in life. Born into nobility that scorned those they deemed less than worthy, competing with a sister that looked at him as though he were the scum of the earth just for daring to want something other than the life of simple easy luxury, and a former knight of Camelot with little to no regard for the formality of that station, no one could ever accuse him of chasing the riches of the high life.

His wants are, and have always been, quite simple. Good food, good drink. A warm place to sleep with a roof over his head. The freedom to enjoy all that which life has to offer. The comfort of another's touch and the warmth of another's laughter.

He comes to Camelot not for riches, not for glory, not for a King or a Prince, but for a friend. A friend met in the midst of a tavern brawl—which was when all the best friends are made—who made him believe that there were things were fighting for that weren't the small comforts. He walked at the man's side, not at his back, and believed that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't be as he remembered them.

For a time, he was right.

Certainly the other knights were not the typical ones of Camelot's station, save for Sir Leon, who was the last of the Old Knights (his words, not Gwaine's), but that man was an entity all to himself. Elyan, the son of a blacksmith, whose knowledge of armor far outstripped anyone else's that he'd ever seen. Percival, a man who was an army by himself, larger than life. Lancelot, who had come to the knights the same way as he, drawn in by a friend's charm and inspired by his drive.

And Arthur Pendragon himself.

Gwaine isn't sure that if he'd met Arthur before knowing Merlin, he would be as willing to serve him. The man is, well, he's a Prince. A King. A noble born into such that believes he's entitled to it. Is he as bad as some of the others Gwaine has known? No, but that's an impossibly low bar that certain determined individuals have taken hoe and axe to get beneath. Arthur was…a man, yes, and he certainly had the capacity to be a good one. When away from the pressures of the castle, he was one of the knights, joking and laughing with them as though they were blood brothers, not just brothers in arms. And he made rulings that upset those pricks that decreed some should die to serve the rest, caring for the people and supporting them as he should. But he could be careless, inconsiderate, capable of those small acts of cruelty known only to those wielding incredible power without the acknowledgment of what that power could do if not managed correctly.

No, if Merlin had not been the one to introduce them, he would not have been a knight.

Merlin is unique. Not just because he's the Greatest Sorcerer to Walk the Earth, or the Last Dragonlord, or whatever other titles they want to give him. No, Merlin is unique because he's never met a man so achingly of the earth. Merlin is petty and clever and kind and resentful and endlessly loyal and hopelessly bitter. Merlin is just a man standing in the path of a river and the force of the waterfall at its mouth. Gwaine's had too much to drink and Merlin is there, ephemeral and tangible all at once, and he is the best man Gwaine will ever know.

And he is desperately, terribly, irrevocably in love with Arthur.

Those who are blind will say that Merlin's greatest secret is his magic, but he flaunts that at every chance he gets. Merlin's true secret is also not much of a secret, but he will never breathe word of it the way he'll declare himself a sorcerer if he thinks it will spare the life of someone innocent (even if Arthur will never believe him until it's too late). Merlin has tied himself to Arthur in a way that would surely destroy the both of them if the tether were to be cut. Everything he does, he does for Arthur, and it would take a man of impossible strength to come anywhere close to the devotion he shows a man who has no idea who he truly is.

How could Gwaine resist such conviction?

He knows his reputation, knows the fond eye rolls and resigned smiles that he coaxes from the faces of the knights, from Arthur, from Merlin himself. But just as much as he knows that, he knows there is no use in denying himself the truth. Could he pretend not to be in love with Merlin? Certainly, he could, but what would the use be?

He has loved Merlin since he met him in that tavern, loved him since he saw that first spell cast and his eyes turn gold, loved him since he looked at Arthur as though he were the world and felt his own chest twinge with the soft oh that has devastated bards and poets alike. In some ways his reputation protects him, able to flirt so openly and yet have none of the heartache that comes from an awkward rejection when he's taken seriously. There he can hide how much he pines for the man who only has eyes for another, there he can stay by Merlin's side, just standing, watching, there if he needs to be while Merlin hustles after Arthur. Sometimes he wants to shake him, tell him can't you see how precious this is, this love of a man who has decided to give his soul to you, but he won't, he can't, for just as he will never force his love onto Merlin, no sooner will he expose Merlin's heart to Arthur than fall on his own sword.

Then Arthur discovers Merlin has magic and all hell breaks loose.

Merlin is banished and Gwaine, ever the romantic, up and goes with him. He spares not another word for Arthur, his own rage boiling so closely under the surface of his skin that he would surely burn the King alive, and hangs up the red cloak in lieu of spilling blood, riding after Merlin. Merlin, the bastard, tries to convince him not to come, to stay, and he has to choke on his words before getting something out along the lines of it's not worth it if you're not there. And Merlin, who has never once been to the tavern, who does not know what to do with something that is only and solely for him, just sets his mouth into a thin line and allows Gwaine to travel with him.

They wander for a while. They visit taverns, visit Merlin's mother—Gwaine kisses her hand and thanks her for raising such an incredible son and she blushes, pats his cheek and tells him she's happy Merlin has him—and roam the farmlands in search of work. Gwaine's years of wandering alone have given him many friends in out of the way places, so they avoid the patrolling guards and knights and make their way to a small corner of the world where an old farm sits idly, waiting for someone new to come and tend it.

The cabin is small, drafty, lacks a proper fireplace, and the farm has been all but razed by bandits and wildlife alike. Merlin takes one look at the shoddy excuse for a bed and sighs, shouldering off his pack and going back outside to stable their horses.

Gwaine takes the floor for the first few nights and won't hear a word of protest.

Bit by bit, the farm comes back. They fight off bandits and put up fences against the deer, they trade for better seeds and wood to fix that cabin. Merlin uses his magic behind the closed door and they do not go hungry, they do not go cold. They have precious little coin taken from Camelot and they use it sparingly, stretching and stretching until they have enough from the land to take to the nearby village to trade and sell. The markets pass them by when they let them and they go only when it is safe, and little by little they carve out a place for themselves here at the edge of the world they once belonged to.

Merlin doesn't say much. He works and he listens to Gwaine's babbling and he holds his tankard of ale between too-old, too-young fingers, staring into the fire as the nights grow long. He smiles when Gwaine makes particularly bad jokes and he leans into his shoulder when he grows weary. He snaps at him to come up off the floor when the weather gets cold and they squeeze into the too-small bed, knees knocking and elbows bumping. Gwaine doesn't push and nurses his own bleeding heart in the comfort of his own chest.

Then one night, when they've managed to trade for a small barrel of wine, Merlin sets his cup down with a thud and kisses him.

He tastes like wine. He pulls and shoves Gwaine up onto his feet, only letting their lips part long enough to tug his tunic over his head and wrench Gwaine's from his chest. He shoves him down onto the horrible bed and there are hands in his hair, a tongue in his mouth, a knee between his and his chest is aching, splitting, bleeding Camelot red as Merlin gasps against his lips. One of them bites the other and deep purple bruises begin to spread like dying flowers.

When it's over, and they lie chest to chest, too hot and too cold, he looks up at the ceiling and lets his hand card gently through Merlin's hair. Merlin stiffens and rolls off of him, walking across the floor to drain the last of the wine. The firelight dances over pale skin and knotted scars and Gwaine has long ago numbed himself against the desire to kiss them, ask where they came from, wordlessly promise to protect him, but in the dying haze of pleasure, he wonders.

Perhaps in a different life.

Merlin is a selfish lover. He supposes it makes sense; the man gives every other aspect of himself over to anyone who so much as looks in need. When it comes to what he wants, then, he takes and takes and takes. Gwaine is all too happy to give him whatever he desires and tries not to look too smug when Merlin's voice cracks on a moan or his eyes roll back in his head. Merlin talks now, smiles more, and he takes it because Merlin looks happier and that's all he could ask for.

But then, oh, when he comes in to see Merlin hunched over, huddled around a scrap of cloth he knows was taken from one of Arthur's old tunics, well. He is only a man. And so he goes and sets his boots carefully by the door, picks up the blanket warmed by the fire, and drapes it over Merlin's shaking shoulders. He brackets the smaller man with his body, pressing kiss after kiss gently to his clothed shoulder, all the way to the crook of his neck where he lets his lips part just long enough to taste the skin before kissing him there too. He hears and feels the hitch of Merlin's breath and scoops him up, like a bride on their wedding night, and carries him over to the bed, lying him down as though it were the finest of fabrics. For the first time, he allows himself to be gentle, tender, even, as he coaxes Merlin's shaking hands to his own chest, soothes the hitching sobs with soft kisses to his aching throat. He slips his hands under the tunic to feel the soft curve of his hips, his ribs, to smooth along his pale stomach as he tastes salt on Merlin's lips.

"Arthur," Merlin cries, begs, moans, gasps, "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur."

Gwaine doesn't kiss him to silence him. He pours his heart out in the gentle slide of their bodies and the touch of his mouth to the vulnerable parts of Merlin that the other man tries not to let him see, and when Merlin has finished, spend drying on his chest, he cleans him up without a word and lets him drift off to sleep. He sits by the fire alone that night, drinking from Merlin's cup, and sighs.

If he can only ever have this, then he will savor it.

***

In the end, finding Morgana feels almost anticlimactic.

He's walking in the forest, alone, while Gwaine rides to the village to fetch something for the persistent leak in the roof, when his magic tingles and he throws up his hand just in time to shield himself from the blast. Morgana launches another with a vicious screech and he deflects it just as easily.

"I'm not going to fight you, Morgana."

"You," she seethes, emerging from the shadows, "all this time, you—"

"I have magic. I was born with it. It is—was my destiny to help Arthur become the One True King of Camelot and unite the land of Albion. I was mistaken in betraying you. Every day I regret it." He sinks to his knees. "If you want revenge, you can take it."

Morgana stares at him. An unfinished spell crackles in her hand. She is the Last High Priestess of the Old Religion and they both know her magic is strong, but his is stronger. Should it become a proper fight, it would destroy them both.

After a long, long moment, her hand lowers and the spell fizzles into nothing. She walks forward, still eyeing him warily. He waits. Eventually, she sighs and offers her hand. He takes it and pulls himself to his feet.

"Why are you here?" Some of the venom leaves her voice. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Arthur?"

"He banished me."

Her eyes widen. "You. He banished you. He tore Camelot apart to save you more times than I can count and he just—what, let you go?"

"He discovered I have magic. Magic is illegal in Camelot."

"Arthur Pendragon is an arrogant, pompous arse, but he is a fool for you. He's been strangely fond of you since Uther made you his manservant," she spits, "and yet he tossed you aside."

He raises his eyebrows. "Are you angry at Arthur for me?"

"I loathe any person who would use and discard someone else so easily. You of all people should understand that."

He bows his head. "I am sorry, Morgana, really. If I…if I'd known—"

She sighs and bids him to walk with her. They weave through the trees, the forest glimmering in the late-afternoon sun around them. Birds call back and forth and rabbits scurry across their path. "I wish you had told me you had magic."

"I wish I had too."

"Why didn't you?"

Merlin sighs. "I listened to someone I shouldn't have."

"Arthur?"

"Kilgharrah. The dragon that Uther imprisoned under the castle. He said that you were sworn to be my enemy, and so I…" He scrubs a hand over his face. "I swear, not a day goes by that I don't wish I'd done it all differently."

Morgana goes quiet for a while as they walk, save for the crunching of her footsteps. "When Morgause took me from Camelot, she told me what you'd done. At first, all I could feel was anger. This…black and poisonous thing that ate me until it was all I had. I never thought to ask her why she never told me that I was the source of the magic."

"You didn't know."

"No." She swallows. "That day…when Arthur put the sword in my hand and told me to protect Uther…I didn't want to kill him."

They walk in silence for a little longer. Then Merlin slowly reaches out to grasp her hand. "Gwen told me about something her father said once."

"Oh?"

"Someone had come to the blacksmith's angry that one of the swords he'd made had been used to kill his child. Her father asked him who it was that truly deserved the brunt of the anger: the one who made the sword, the one who wielded the sword, or the sword itself."

She scoffs. "What's the use in being angry at a sword?"

Merlin squeezes her hand. "That's what I thought, and then Gwen…"

He lets out a shuddering breath and stops walking. Morgana turns, confused, until she sees the contorted expression on his face. She walks a few steps closer, warily calling his name. When he looks up again, his eyes are filled with tears.

"I forged the sword," he says hoarsely, "Morgause wielded it, and you…Morgana, I'm so sorry."

Morgana's eyes widen. Her hand twitches in his. Some vile and terrible fury rises behind her eyes but just as quickly, something else douses it and she looks so young, so old, so tired. With the selfishness of a cold child, she takes two quick steps and wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back and the forest parts just for a moment to allow the two to grieve the versions of themselves killed thoughtlessly.

"Come back with me," Merlin whispers into her shoulder, "come—just come for the night."

"Where?"

"It's not far. We have a farm. And a cabin."

"'We?'"

"Gwaine came with me."

A huff that warms his shoulder. "Of course he did."

Gwaine tries to draw his sword when he sees them, only for Merlin to rush between them, holding up his hands, saying she's not here to fight, she's not our enemy, it's alright. He looks at her, his eyes far more knowing than anyone has ever given him credit for, and shrugs, smiling and welcoming her inside. Merlin spends the rest of the evening in something of a daze, watching the two of them make small talk by the fire. No small part of him wishes that this could've happened in Camelot's halls, where Morgana looked as lovely and radiant and at peace as she did, where Gwaine's hands weren't so torn and scraped and his smile less tired, but they are both here and for the moment, his chest doesn't feel quite so empty.

It's a fleeting sensation.

Two sides of the same coin. The words that have ruled him since he first heard them spoken. The words that still rip his chest apart with every breath, the words that have his magic straining, aching, reaching back towards Camelot with every waking moment. It buzzes relentlessly in his fingers, strains his chest and lungs. It loves Arthur more than it loves him and he can't even blame it, for he left his heart there under the blade of Arthur's sword the day he was banished. Every day he wakes up, hoping to see the inside of Gaius's chambers, that this was all some horrible dream, and he can go with tears in his eyes up to Arthur's rooms and have Arthur tease him about being soft, weak, all with the quiet concern in his eyes that something might really be wrong.

But this is real. This cabin, this farm, this is the reality. He is no longer welcome in Camelot and he nurses that wound constantly. He closes his eyes and wishes away the worst of the pain so that he might breathe a little easier. He closes his fist over his heart and cries when Gwaine is asleep that it might come back to him, that he won't have to mourn its loss the same way he mourns Freya, Will, Balinor.

What is worse is that he knows he's being horrible to Gwaine.

Gwaine, who came with him without asking, without hesitating. Gwaine, who complained not once at how hard it was and how much work they have to do. Gwaine, who loves him, truly loves him, and loves him enough not to leave when Merlin is so clearly and helplessly still in love with Arthur.

He tries to ask him one night, when the tears won't stop coming and he's laid out on his back with Gwaine's mouth gently working over the vulnerable skin of his throat, his hands clasped tightly in rougher, callused ones, why he's here, why he lets this happen, why he's being so kind. It's not fair, he knows it's not fair, and he can't fathom why Gwaine is allowing it.

Because Gwaine is wonderful. He's kind and sweet and attentive and everything that Merlin isn't. He holds Merlin and the amount of love tucked into the embrace is enough to make his head spin. He kisses him like he's grateful Merlin's letting him get close enough to touch him. He loves him like he loves him, and Merlin can't understand why.

"Oh, Merlin," Gwaine breathes and the warmth makes him shudder, "it's alright. Shh, shh, it is. Don't you worry, not right now, just let me care for you."

"Why can't I just love you?" he sobs, hiding in Gwaine's shoulder. "It would be so much easier."

"Shh, shh, shh…that's enough, now." He's caught in a tender kiss that still manages to steal his breath away. Gwaine doesn't move away, murmuring against his mouth. "Just relax, lie back, shh, shh…"

Gwaine never leaves him wanting. If he were someone else, Merlin thinks he could hate him for that.

***

Arthur receives a scroll with the words the edge of the caves at the full moon, come alone, and knows that for the first time in a long, long time, he will truly be going alone.

He rides out under the noses of the patrols and gallops to the forest, making his way to the caves on foot when the terrain grows too steep. He keeps a hand on his sword as he goes, wary of the ambush he's almost certainly walking into.

When he reaches the top, there's a figure in black waiting for him. His hand falls away from his sword as Morgana turns to face him.

"You actually did come alone, I'm impressed."

"You requested it."

"There was a time where you'd never go alone anywhere."

"Yes, well, those days are behind me."

Her eyes flash with anger. "At your own doing."

"What do you want, Morgana?"

"Do you feel no remorse for what you've done?" She steps closer, the wind whipping about her skirts. "For any of it?"

"If you mean stopping you, then no, Morgana, I will not apologize for saving the innocent lives you sought to end." He takes a step too. "Do I regret what happened to you? Yes—I don't know what it was that sent you over the edge, but I wish—"

She laughs, high and loud and merciless, sounding like a murder of crows. "You wish? You wish what, that I hadn't?"

"Yes!' He steps closer still. "I wish that you'd told me you had magic, I wish that we'd been able to work something out together, I wish—"

"That you could've banished me," she snarls, spittle flying from her lips, "is that it? Instead of the wretched sorceress who swore vengeance, you wanted to send me off, pretty as anything, to save your own skin?"

"No!"

"What, then killed me yourself? While I was still Uther's beloved ward?"

"Morgana—"

"Or would you have burnt me at the stake?"

Arthur throws caution to the wind and strides up to her, grasping her shoulders and pulling her close. "I wish I could've stopped this! I wish I'd have known so I could help! I never wanted any of this, I don't want this now, I—don't you think I'd rather have you both with me?"

Morgana's teeth gleam in a cruel smile. "'Both?'"

His hands shudder. His knees quake. A lump appears in his throat and chokes him. "Do you know where he is?"

"What, don't tell me you care now—"

"I have always cared!"

"Liar!" She shoves him away. "You sent the most loyal man in the world off like a disobedient mutt the moment it was convenient—"

"They would've killed him!" He runs a hand through his hair, panting. "There were so many of them, Morgana, I couldn't—what else was I supposed to do? There was no way to stop the knights, not all of them—"

"You are the King," she sneers, "what good are you if you can't control your own knights?"

"I'm not a good King!"

Several birds take off from the forest below. The wind whips up into a frenzy to carry the words high into the sky and scatter them like broken shards of glass. Arthur pants as though blood would come to his lips any moment. Morgana, ever the steadfast, falters.

"I'm not a good King," Arthur says again, his voice thick and his head heavy, "I'm not. I carry on pointless cycles of violence because I lack the courage to break them. I put my trust in people who betray me and don't listen to the voices of my people. I—the only good I have ever done has come of the people who I surrounded myself with and I've managed to ruin that too."

He raises his chin, looking up to the heavens. He looks too young for his armor.

"I am King because my father was King. Nothing more."

Morgana swallows. She walks closer to him and puts her hand on his shoulder. He flinches, not for fear of her, but for shame of himself. For a moment, the two of them stand there, the broken children of Uther Pendragon, and that is all they are.

"Make it safe," she says finally, "then maybe we can come home."

"How," he croaks, "how do I make it safe?"

"Legalize magic. Root out the rot. Be the King Camelot deserves. That we deserve."

He looks at her, still in the half-dark, and carefully covers her hand with his. "Will you help me, as much as you can?"

She swallows. "When you prove to me that it's safe for me to do so."

***

The day word reaches them that magic is legal in Camelot, the candle in the back of Gwaine's mind begins to burn down to the base.

He knows it's a matter of time now. Arthur Pendragon is many things, but determined is perhaps one of his greatest qualities. If magic is legal in Camelot, then their days at this farm, in this cabin, are numbered and those numbers are not quite as high as he once thought.

He doesn't begrudge Merlin's hope. He never has, he never will. He responds enthusiastically to Merlin's renewed vigor, in and out of their bed—the bed, he should start thinking of it as the bed again—and tries to let his smiles slip only at night when no one else can see. Truly, he is happy; the lifting of the ban will ease the suffering of so many people and it's high time Arthur actually used the power he has to do something like this. Innocent people can practice their religion, no one group has to be exiled for an unjust reason, the druids can live in peace without persecution or fear any longer.

Merlin can go home.

He wonders if he'll return with him. He's grown quite fond of this little farm and cabin. Really, though, he knows it's because once he gets back, he'll have to watch the slow dance between the two of them and…and he's not as strong of a man as he pretends to be. But Merlin keeps looking at him with these hopeful little smiles and saying when we go back and when we're there and I hope they're happy to see us and he's weak, he always has been for Merlin, so he smiles and nods and says when we're home.

He comes back from the forest one day and sees a familiar horse standing in the grass outside their door—the door. Arthur Pendragon looks at him with that Camelot red cape flowing over his shoulders and he's every bard's dream of the knight in shining armor, come to claim his lost love. Gwaine walks up to him slowly, face of stone, and when Arthur confesses softly to him about how much he regrets it, how much he's done, and how scared he is now, he reaches out and clasps the man's hand.

"Take care of him," he says, and Arthur vows he will.

He doesn't watch their reunion. He winks flirtatiously until they shoo him off and he's glad of it, tending to the horses with a solemn finality that they pick up on, nudging his face with their noses until he pets them. He dons his own armor—the kind he wears to the tavern and to long feasts—and talks the whole ride back, laughing and joking and teasing the both of them.

Morgana joins them for the last leg of the journey and she looks at him with knowing eyes. He shrugs and she reaches over in the shadows where they won't see and squeezes his hand.

They are friends, then, and that is all they will ever be, and they will kill for each other without hesitation.

His brothers welcome him back. Leon looks at him for a moment too long and he turns away, not willing to have his heart split from his chest so soon after returning. There are things to celebrate, after all, and he is well adept at losing himself in fine spirits and food. The celebrations last long into the night, the next morning, and the next night as well. He doesn't look up to the high table, doesn't entertain the looks and winks he gets from the other guests, and doesn't touch the wine.

Leon catches him in a corner briefly and pulls him into a hug so tender he almost shatters right then and there.

"My door is open," he offers in words only meant for the two of them, "you've been away so long, little brother. I missed you."

The unspoken offer is there and Gwaine has never been more grateful for him. But he can't, not now, not while it is still so fresh, and so he dives back into the fray and laughs and jokes and makes merry.

When the party finally, finally comes to an end, he goes to sneak off to his own little room with a cup of wine when a long-fingered hand catches his shoulder. He knows who it is without having to turn around and knows in the same breath that he will go wherever the hand tugs. He leaves the wine on a table and goes, following Merlin up to the King's chambers. Arthur is already there, his crown laid on the side, pouring more wine. Merlin doesn't let him go as the doors close behind him, which is a surprise, but not as much as the one where Arthur holds out a goblet to him.

"I'm not a very good King," Arthur says, with his voice pitched low as Merlin's hands dance over his shoulders, "and I'm not a very good man."

"You're not that bad," he manages as Merlin's hands slip beneath his shirt.

"You're better than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm not," he gasps as fingers explore his chest, "I'm—I'm really not."

Arthur's hands are warm, callused in the way that his are, but gentle in a way that would make Uther Pendragon roll in his grave. Merlin's mouth finds his pulse.

"You are," he says, and he would never dare argue with Merlin, "you really are, Gwaine."

"You've lived as both a noble and a commoner," Arthur says, even as his hands card through his hair, "and seen the world from both sides. I need help from advisors I can trust. I imagine you have quite the breadth of experience."

The low slide of his words sends heat pooling into his stomach. "I've—I've lived a life, yes."

"Would you consider it? You could be a knight and an advisor." He doesn't have enough blood in his head for his. "I would be grateful for your guidance."

He chokes as Merlin's fingers dip lower and lower. "Is this how you recruit all your advisors?"

"No," Merlin chuckles, "just you."

"I—"

He doesn't have time to say another word before Arthur's mouth closes over his. The King tastes of wine and spice and one hand settles on his hip like a brand. His head is spinning and he feels Merlin coaxing the goblet from his hand.

"I've a lot to learn," Arthur says against his mouth, "so teach me."

"Teach you?"

He feels more than sees Arthur grin. "Unless you think you're not suited for it?"

He slides a hand into Arthur's golden hair and holds his head still, slanting their mouths together until the King is panting, shaking against him, and Merlin is laughing over their shoulders. Another mouth kisses his neck as arms wind around his waist and he smiles into the kiss.

"Shall we begin now, then?"

They've a home to rebuild, after all.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Guys, is it really difficult to just say we like her as a friend?

To be fair, we’re divided on a good day, but most of us like you? You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re definitely strong—but there’s lot of super strong people out there too. We like you cause we had great times together, and we even saved the world(?) …in that time that didn’t actually happen(??) and…

… we just want our friend to be okay and happy and the good times to continue…?

Never mind, being emotionally vulnerable sucks. Pretend we said nothing.

BLACKSMITH: "…What're you makin' that annoyin' face for?"

BENNOSUKE(?): "Hehehe… hehehehehe… Did'ya hear that? They wuuuuuuv me! I'm gonna tell eeeeeeverybody! They're gonna be sooooo jealous!"

You're kidding.

There she is.

BLACKSMITH: "Excuse me? They said a lot of things, but I don't think that was one of 'em. Did you hit your head again when I wasn't lookin'? What the hell is 'wuv'?"

MUSASHI: "It's called subtext, old man. Maybe they didn't invent it in your time? Still, gosh, it's about time. I was starting to get a bit discouraged."

MUSASHI stretched, before looking over at you and nodding. The BLACKSMITH frowned, folding his arms.

BLACKSMITH: "That look in your eyes, you've reached some sorta conclusion. I guess that means you're leavin'… well, if that's what'll make you happy, I ain't gonna stop you."

The Blacksmith said... ugh, remaining still, not going back on his word.

MUSASHI: "Mm. Thank you though, for giving me a home for a bit."

The children ran up to her, tugging on her kimono.

GRANDDAUGHTER: "But you can't leave! Not yet! We'll miss you!"

You saw her smile grow soft as she knelt down, pulling the kids into a hug.

MUSASHI: "Trust me, I feel the same. I'll miss you too. Take care of your grandpa, okay?"

She hopped up to her feet, turning back to you.

MUSASHI: "I don't think so, though it's not like I've really had much of one. But... living in this Shimousa, with old man Muramasa, Onui, and Tasuke… it's a pretty lie. One that if I wasn't careful about, could live in for a really long time without realizing something was wrong. That Pretender really is a devious one."

She turned away slightly, clearing her throat as she caught her breath.

MUSASHI: "…This was the place where the human 'Miyamoto Musashi' died, and the Heroic Spirit 'Miyamoto Musashi' was born."

BLACKSMITH: "Bennosuke…"

MUSASHI: "I know. I'll take care of myself. But that means you've got to take care of yourself too, next time we meet for real, I'll be bugging you for a new sword."

BLACKSMITH: "…See you."

MUSASHI: "See you."

She readied her katanas.

MUSASHI: "Some privacy, please? I'll pull through, don't worry. I always do. But that Jaguar wants us to put on a show, right?"

She winked, flashing a roguishly charming smile. It was bewitching enough that you only just caught the upswing of her blade. The strike was swift, sudden, and perfectly painless as it neatly severed your connection to MUSASHI's dreamscape.

…As expected of a sword saint.

You found yourselves back in the room with JAGUAR MAN, who was violently shaking you as your Servants continued to yell. It was a lot of noise at once. Was this what they heard every time you got panicked? You looked back at the screen, seeing MUSASHI still asleep.

The ninth chime sounded.

PRETENDER stood over MUSASHI, still as confident as he was when you last saw him. Which... was actually a few seconds ago. Dream-time was strange.

PRETENDER: "It's but a shame, but this is where the story ends. I repeat that I only did this because you were my most formidable opponent, may you have sweet--"

Before he could finish, he was suddenly cut off.

PRETENDER: "…?!"

Two hands shot up, grabbing him by the side of the face and yanking him downwards. The entire arena was treated to a wide shot of the previously asleep samurai having yanked the prince into a kiss- on the forehead at least. This was followed by a rather brutal headbutt as MUSASHI slammed her forehead against his, the PRETENDER letting out a pained yell as he stumbled backwards, reeling from the dirty strike. The samurai spoke up, her voice loud and clear for the observing parties as she hopped up to her feet.

MUSASHI: "And thus, the lovely princess was awakened by true love's kiss! Oh, Jeran, you dirty dog! What will your fans think? Stealing a kiss from a maiden like myself? The scandal of it all!"

Before the PRETENDER could comment, the swordswoman thrust the pommel of her sword into his nose and kicked him square in the chest, knocking him into a nearby wall.

He crashed into it, slumping down as MUSASHI stretched, yawning dramatically.

MUSASHI: "Aaaawaa… man, I needed that! Hm? Why's the air so tense? Did I miss something big?"

SALIERI: "That woman…"

NERO: "She's truly devilish…"

CONSTANTINE: "Making us worry like that…"

KUKULKAN: "That's our Saber!"

You heard the PRIEST's voice echo over the footage.

PRIEST: "And… at the last moment before the tenth count, the Null Zero Samurai awakens!"

The arena burst into wild, chaotic cheers.

[queers-gambit]

High Noon

prompt: the tournament begins, and plans for a funeral looms

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 10k+

warnings: cursing, more non-specific smut, author projecting her loneliness, violence, more but wonky brain shut down!

previous: part one: Midnight Calls

next: part three: Darkening Hour

The morning was still, quiet, rigid with tension after the previous night's fiasco. Mary had come to your door early, finding you already sat before your vanity, pulling a hair brush through your locks. Your handmaiden kept quiet and selected a gorgeous gown from your chest, but then paused, and pulled a different one out.

The colors of the first dress was that akin to your husband's House, but the new dress was the darkest of coal in color with red threading along the bodice. Mary turned to show you the dress, cocking her head, "You've not worn this one before, Lady... Perhaps today is a good day to wear it?"

Your lips quirked in amusement, head cocking some as you focused on the mirror before you. "Those are interesting colors, Mary," you mentioned casually, "surely, that is pure coincidence?"

Mary looked to your chamber door and darted towards it, only pausing to toss the dress onto your freshly made bed, and shut the door firmly. She turned with her back to the wood, finding you twisting in your seat to face her, "Surely, you must have something to tell me of last night, my Lady?"

"What makes you think that?" You wondered.

"You met with the Prince," she rolled her eyes lightly, moving towards your body to turn you again towards the mirror. "What happened? Oh, please, Lady, you know the gossip in the castle is only half-truth, and I would never get to experience something like this."

You sighed gently, "Nothing happened, Mary, we only met and..."

"And?"

Your shoulders shrugged meekly, "And he told me of his Lady-wife's passing, I offered my condolences, and he wondered if I would support him in the tournament. I told him that it would be a great scandal in the court if I supported him, and not my husband."

Mary rolled her eyes, "Your husband's always been a pig, Lady, I am sorry." You nodded in agreement before silence befell the two of you, then, an idea came across your mind.

"Mary?" You prompted.

"Hmm?"

"In a perfect world, who would you choose?" You wondered, watching her through the mirror as she started to intricately braid your hair.

"From the courts?"

"Sure," you sighed.

"Hmm, well, Ser Harwin Strong is... Mhmmm," She hummed, nodding, making you both giggle. "And of course, there's a few others..." She went on to name a few names, before rolling her eyes, "Yes, yes... And I do suppose Prince Daemon is handsome, and brave... And strong, and handsome, and talented, and rebellious, yet so very charming, and cunning with a reputation that precedes him, and he's handsome, too..."

You laughed, "Think he's handsome, do you?"

"Perhaps a bit," she teased, winking back at you. "Though... I do know who I would marry if the Gods permitted it."

"Oh?" You perked up, grinning at her in wonder. "Are you going to tell me who it is, my friend, or let me be the only one sharing secrets?"

She sighed lightly, "His name's Edwin."

"Where did you meet?"

"He's a stablehand," she admitted, shrugging some. "Met through work, if you will. He's handsome... The third son of one of the blacksmiths, and doesn't truly keep up with his family, I suppose."

"Hmm," you considered. "And how does he feel of your family?"

She was one of ten siblings. Oh, her mother was a saint.

"Yes, well, in truth, he loves them," Mary breathed, "and my parents adore him."

"Then what's the issue?" You asked gently. "Why not court him properly?"

She shrugged, "He is... Courting another... Well - it is complicated, my Lady, and I am unsure of how it makes me feel."

"Who else is he courting?"

"The Lady Deena."

"No!" You gasped.

"I know!" She whined. "Their father's set it up, but Edwin does not wish to enter service, for he is talented as a smith, but he loves horses more and likes what he does now. He's truly a humble man - but it's put delay on their betrothal."

"And now you've fallen in love with him, oh, Mary," You sighed. "Would you point him out to me? I wish to put a face with the name."

"Of course," she nodded, already dressed for the tournament after agreeing to be your escort as your husband was competing. "And Lady Deena has been boasting about her seats for the tournament. Edwin's going to compete..."

"We need to make you a token, so you can give it to him! Oh the look on the Lady Deena's face!" you gasped lightly as you shook your head, looking around your room. "Okay, I'll make you one if you do those braids I like?"

"The thick ones?"

"Please," you nodded, your maid agreeing; and leaving you sat in the chair for another hour (or longer) with a woven favor in your lap as Mary tucked, twisted, and braided your hair.

Your make-up was perfected after, and then, you decided to wear the beautiful black dress. Just as Mary was lacing the corset, there was a knock at the door. "Enter," You called, revealing another maid. "Yes?"

"From the Prince, my Lady," she presented a sheet of suede; laying it on the table, and bowing out of the room as if in fear. Her eyes had never lifted from the floor, and you wondered what abuse the servants in the castle usually endured.

You made a mental note to ask Daemon about it later.

"What's that?" Mary wondered as your heels clicked over the floors to reach the small table holding a pitcher of wine and a few books; pulling the suede flap up to reveal the most beautiful sight.

A strand of thick rubies that were posed as a choker necklace, making it look like the jewels would drip off your neck. There was a pair of matching ruby earrings, with another matching ruby ring; complimenting your choice of dress perfectly.

"Gods," Mary swore when she saw the jewels. "Those are a pretty thing, hey?"

"Beautiful, I'd say," you complimented, petting the sparkling gems intimately. "Would it add insult to wear? I would be wearing Targaryen colors, Mary..."

"No, you look ravishing in this," she assured, gesturing to your dress, "that I do not think anyone would interpret this as betrayal. And the jewels?" She tutted lightly, "I would think the Prince be offended to find you not wearing them, Lady."

"I fear you might be right," you admitted, trying to fight your smile. "Would you put it on?"

"Of course," she agreed, taking up the necklace with gentle hands. She latched it on as you fixed the earrings into your piercings, slipping the ring on you right ring ringer; opposite the wedding band you wore for your husband. "Gods be good," Mary nodded, stepping back to admire you. "You look incredible, my Lady. Honestly - I am finding the words hard, you look... Just wow," she nodded, clasping her hands together. "How you have grown into a stunning young woman. No wonder the Prince is so smitten."

You sighed lightly, "Oh, Mary - "

"No, my Lady, you just look breathtaking," she nodded, waving her hands frantically. "Oh, enough of that from me, you don't need an old woman telling you how beautiful you are." She sighed almost sadly, nodding, "Just wish your mother could see you now."

Your smile faded slowly, "Might I be honest a moment?"

"Of course."

"Since I left home and came here, you've been more mother than I've known before," you admitted. "And your praise means everything to me, so, please, don't hold back," you both giggled lightly.

"Come," she nodded, fixing a portion of your necklace. "The joust is to start soon, and I do believe our men are competing - both of yours, I do mean."

"Hush," You nodded with a smile, and took one last look at yourself in the mirror, the jewelry making you look and feel powerful - as if cloaked in Daemon's sigil, and his protection. Mary's arm looped around yours as you departed down the halls of the Red Keep; pushing out of the doors, and joining a stream of other royals heading for the tournament grounds.

You both held your woven favors in your hands and found your seats easily; giggling lightly and pointing to different things. Ser Harwin Strong passed by and paused to bid you both a good day, kissing the back of your hand, and even taking the seat beside you to mumble to you and Mary about the happenings in the sandy arena.

In an interesting turn of events, your husband was announced against the Rogue Prince - and your heart stalled in your chest as your hand blindly slapped Mary's thigh. Concern spiked as your husband boisterously rode into the arena on a brown horse, the crowds weakly cheering for the fattening knight, but then muttering in confusion when he approached the side of the stands you were not on, and accepted the favor of another Lady.

"Oh," Mary whispered, eyes wide; glancing at you with nervousness.

Harwin cleared his throat, "A simple curtesy, I'm sure."

"Hmm," You hummed, nodded as if it did not sting to witness. The Lady across the stand was Lady Regina - who had a renowned reputation of wrecking homes. She bit her lip and stood at the railing, watching your husband like he was prey, and you understood why. The only appeal of your husband was the location of his home as it was strategic, and a great host to farmlands.

He also commanded some 3,000 soldiers that he had pledged to the crown...

Your marriage was great in the sense that he left you alone, but all of his wives had died... And for the first time, you questioned how. "Ser Strong?" You mumbled, making the knight lean in some. "Might I ask you something?"

Prince Daemon was announced, the crowds cheering harder as Harwin agreed.

"How did my husband's first three wives come to pass?"

Mary leaned in to listen as the knight cleared his throat nervously. "Naturally, my Lady," he nodded, Daemon galloping around the arena in his dragon-suited armor.

"Do not lie, Ser," you demanded. "Tell me truthfully."

"Truthfully - it was all presented as natural," he lowered his voice. "But there are those who like to whisper that your husband... Might've tampered with their fate. There was never any proof, and once he married you, he has had no reason to be rid of you..."

Your lungs shuddered, "How, my good Ser?"

Harwin nodded, Daemon's horse pulling into a high-stepping trot while the high noon's sun beamed over you all. "The first turned septic after their second daughter was born. The second was lost on a hunt to freezing temperatures..."

"And the third?" You asked, lifting your chin to feign passiveness; eyes scanning the arena.

"Birthed two sons, and then fell headfirst into the river," Harwin answered, your eyes finding his. "He found them all, and there were never any witnesses."

"My Lady," A new voice called, making all three of you look up to discover Daemon Targaryen keeping his horse in a halt at the fence, but his eyes were drinking you in with a knowing smirk on his lips.

Not waiting to be told twice, you stood dutifully, and descended the wooden steps to the fence. "My Prince," you greeted softly, eyes raking over him in his dark armor.

"Would you honor me, my Lady? As your husband foolishly hasn't?" He smirked deeper, presenting his lance forward towards you.

Your lungs exhaled as you dropped your favor through the pole, his smirk never dimming in radiance. "Good luck, my Dragon," you whispered in Valyrian, sending him a soft smile as his smirk turned into a full-on grin. "And thank you," your hand shot up to pet over the rubies decorating your neck, flashing the ruby ring you wore.

He nodded, "They look ravishing on you - better than I imagined."

Worried for his public compliments, you nodded, "It's an honor to wear such a gift. I'll pray for a swift victory, my Prince."

He nodded, "My Lady."

Daemon backed his horse up two steps before turning and spurring him forward to reach the Targaryen side of the arena. You turned for your seat and the moment your bottom landed, the flag was waving, and both men were charging at one another at full speed. Each strike of their lances made you flinch as your husband's husk made him heavier, and a lot harder to unhorse; yet Prince Daemon's blows continued to land without yield.

Understanding he would face difficulty trying to unhorse his opponent, Daemon changed tactics; and the next lance was jolted into the ground before your husband's horse, sending them both careening into the sand. You gasped, standing in alarm with Mary and Ser Harwin as Daemon whipped his horse around with a menacing glare.

"SWORD!" Your husband roared, making the crowds cheer. "SWORD, NOW!" The three of you rushed for the fence, your hands taking the posts in a bruising grip as Daemon easily swung off his horse.

Two squires rushed into the arena. One presented your husband with his family's sword, the other taking hold of Daemon's horse, and holding the scabbard of Dark Sister.

Daemon revealed the Valyrian Steel blade, and you swore you saw your husband tremble in his armor. But he could not back down now, and took the first lunge with a wild battle cry. Each clang of metal made you flinch, watching with unblinking eyes as the two knights swung fatally at one another.

Their feet danced over the sands, and you heard only a portion of their conversation. The Prince had growled with hacking swings, "You never deserved her!"

Two swords continued to swing and hack at each other, until, the Prince of the City had more than enough of the fat knight before him, and with his teeth bared in a snarl, drove his sword through a weak-spot in your husband's armor. Daemon lowered his mouth to his ear, assuring with a hiss, "When I pull this blade free, you'll die within a minute. But you'll feel every ounce of pain as I flood your lungs, and know, this is all you deserve for what you did to her." He drove the sword an inch deeper, "You'll rot for what you've done, but fear not, for she is mine again, and will never know pain again."

Daemon yanked Dark Sister free, and the man stumbled to his knees; hand desperately trying to hold the spurting wound as the Lady Regina screamed from the other stands, and rushed into the arena to hold your husband as he died. You had firm belief that this was why nobody pitied the dead knight, why nobody reprimanded Daemon. It was a tournament, after all, and men died in all of them - and when your husband's consort rushed to him in your stead, they felt no sympathy for him. You were always viewed as a prize, even after your marriage marked you as 'taken'.

Your breathing slowed as time stilled when your husband hit the ground in the arms of the woman he chose over you. Not like you cared much, but something burned in your gut and left you feeling ashamed and embarrassed. It did not last long as Daemon was nearing where you still stood, nodding in respect.

"My condolences, my Lady," he panted lightly. "I will have his funeral transport arranged."

You swallowed, and with the eyes of the city on you, forced a nod, "That would be... Most gracious, my Prince."

He nodded again and turned to stalk out of the arena, leaving you, Mary, and Ser Harwin to watch Lady Regina sob loudly over your dead husband. Her dress was weighed heavy with his blood, and two more squires rushed out to pulled the body away. Your throat cleared and you felt at a loss, looking at Mary to whisper, "What the hell just happened?"

Her tone matched yours, "Prince Daemon just killed your husband."

Your head nodded, "Hmm... Thought so, means I'm not dreaming."

"Come," she pulled you by the hand. "We should go, get you out of here."

"What of Edwin?"

"It matters not - "

"No, we will watch," you insisted; glancing around as you stoically reclaimed your seats. Two more knights were presented, and it was like everyone forgot they witnessed a man die as the excitement of the tournament trumped any discomfort over the public murder of your husband. Your hands wrung nervously and time passed, your only salvation being that you got to see Mary bestow Edwin with her favor - and not the Lady Deena, who looked far too put out for the public eye.

And Edwin won his match, unhorsing his opponent!

It was a grand affair, and as you left the stands finally, a messenger found you and presented you a scroll. It was an official death certificate signed by the King, citing the natural causality of the tournament as the nature of his death. You nodded and showed Mary, parting ways as you were required to decide what to do with his body.

An hour later, you were stood above his sheeted-body; glaring at his pale, swollen face, and cursing his name under your breath. After you were allowed 'to say goodbye', you signed off on his transport home, where he was to be laid in his family's crypt, and his eldest son would inherit the title 'Lord'.

After deciding to return with the body, still set on playing your part as dutiful widow, you were given rest for the night as you'd embark on your journey 'home' tomorrow. The festivities would continue for the week, and you would miss it, but you were unsure of your standing in court now. Sure, Daemon promised to marry you - but you did not know where you would live now. Your husband's children were not overly fond of you that you did not know how welcomed you'd be, and returning to the Red Keep after the funeral felt wrong.

Worriment weighed your heart to your feet, and for the first time, you let the tears fall. Servants bowed out of your way as your emotion was tangible, pushing into your bedchamber before slamming the door, and panting against it.

No, you were not grieving your lying, cheating husband, but the public did not need to know that you were actually relieved about it. No, you were mourning the idea of Prince Daemon because surely it would be easy for him to go back on his word now.

You were confused, and scared, and while you had dreamt of your husband's demise before, the reality of it felt crushing. Would you return to your parents? Could you stay where your husband was Lord? Did you return to the Red Keep? What were you to do?

Feeling suffocated, you swiftly tore through the room and packed anything your hands touched. You were drowning in panic and sorrow that you missed the knock at your door; Daemon entering to find you shoving dresses into a trunk - rubies still latched around your neck.

"Dove?" He asked slowly, watching you jump in shock. His hands rose in peace, "What're you doing, pretty girl?"

"What am I doing? I'm packing, Daemon, what does it look like!?" You snipped, voice rattling from tears and mucus; hands shaking.

"All right," he nodded, "but why, dove?"

"Because I am to return my husband's body to his family's crypt!"

"Mhm? And then?"

"And then - I have no idea!" You shook your head. "Where I go after, I am not sure - I do not know what I am to do right now, I have never been a widow before."

Daemon's head cocked and his brows furrowed, stepping into your room, and shutting the door for privacy, "What're you talking about? You will return here - "

"Why? So, I might bury my husband, and return to court as a sign of my single hand? So that others might try to court me? That is a desperate look, my Prince - "

"No," he stepped forward, hands still held out calmly, "you would return here as my guest."

"Oh, because that's better!"

"Sweetheart," he spoke patiently, taking the clothing from your hands to set aside, "listen to me, you are thinking too much. You cannot remain anywhere but here - "

"Why?"

"Because I can protect you here," he nodded, reaching for your cheek. "You think I would abandon you?"

"You did once before..."

"And I am not the same man," he promised, leaning in to nuzzle his nose into your cheek. "I am not leaving you in this. I... I have spoken to my brother, my dove."

"What?" You gasped, stepping closer to press into his chest and look up at him. "About what?"

"About what is to happen," he assured gently, petting over your jaw and chin. "He has agreed to invite you back under his name to avoid any gossip, and when the time is right, announce our engagement with his full support and blessing."

"Daemon - "

"You forget, my dove, he is my older brother," he smirked down at you; gently cradling you to him. "He remembers us, and who we were before. He has agreed to give his blessing when the time is right, for none will go against his word."

Your brain felt like it was short circuiting, "Y-You did that for us?"

It made him chuckle, "Yes, dove. I was serious when I said I wanted you for the rest of my life. I know you are scared, I know you are unsure about what is to pass, so, listen to me. I will give you till the end of next month to settle his affairs, and if you are not back by then, I will come retrieve you myself with Caraxes."

"Why don't you come get me at the end of this month?"

He smiled lightly, "Gods, I was hoping you'd say that."

"Yeah?"

His nose nuzzled yours, "Yes, my dove. You will return and burry your husband, settle his estate, and I will come get you. You will be a guest of my brother, King Viserys, and in six months," he teased lightly, "we will announce our engagement - and I will not waste time in marrying you."

You nodded, "I do not need a feast, my love, only you."

He chuckled, "You say that as if I would not spare an expense to celebrate you."

"I know you wouldn't," you breathed, feeling a little more at ease. "You make this sound as if it's easy."

"It will be," he assured. "And when we are saying our vows, I promise, this will be worth it."

Your hand flattened to pet over his chest, "If you are so confident, I will not doubt you, my Dragon."

"So pack, dear, sweet Lady," he mumbled, "because I will have your things moved tomorrow."

"Might I ask where?"

"Wouldn't you rather be surprised?" He teased lightly.

"Or perhaps I would like to ensure you are remaining within respectable bounds," you answered, smiling when his lips finally descended to press against yours. He hummed, hand cradling your jaw and cheek now; letting your tongue sweep across his.

"My Lady is not acting very respectable now," he smirked, pressing his lips against your lips in hurried kisses; but his grin assured you that he was only jesting.

"You do not make me act very respectable, my Prince," you breathed, licking over his lips after. "But I am set for a long day tomorrow. It would take us a week to reach - "

"Sh," Daemon's head shook, resting his forehead on yours. "Worry not, my dove. I am here only to aid you. What might you need? How could I help?"

You smiled lightly and stood still, relishing in his warmth while his hands splayed across your back, and rubbed up and down. "I suppose I could finish packing my things," you finally mumbled, cheek pressed to his breast, and your arms tight around his ribs to anchor him against you.

Daemon nodded and turned to pour you both goblets of wine when you let go (after a few more kisses), making your heart skip a beat when he domestically began to help you pack. He joked lightly and folded clothes messily, letting you show him the 'proper' way; storing your belongings for his easier transport tomorrow. By the end, the pitcher of wine was dry, and you were both left in bed with sleepy eyes and nightwear.

Your hand traced patterns over his bare chest while one of his hands held your waist, and the other held the elbow of your bent arm. "I did not congratulate you on your victory, my Prince," you mentioned quietly, the only sounds of the room being that of a crackling fire from the end of your bed. "A well-fought battle."

He hummed and his lips pressed to your forehead, "Thank you, dove. I must say, it was a sweet victory."

"Oh?" You smiled lightly, and his hand tightened on your waist.

"How could I not? Look at my prize," he praised.

"Might I make a request?" You wondered in a whisper, lifting your gaze to his; lips ghosting over his jaw for you to press a few slow, soft kisses.

"Anything," he agreed, just as soft.

"When we are married, you would still compliment me as you do now. I do not tire hearing it."

Daemon chuckled, "Oh, my sweet princess, you are going to be spoiled in my affection, do not worry over that."

"Promises, promises."

"Hmm," he nodded, "I see - you do not believe words, but action. Very well, my dove, you will see," his eyes fluttered tiredly as his lips found your forehead again. "Might grow tired of the way I worship you."

"Never," You promised, just as tired. He sighed sleepily against your forehead, and the pair of you drifted off to sleep; finally content with the person sharing your bed and body heat.

At some point in the night, you both had shifted so that you faced the open window and Daemon's chest was snug against your back with his one arm stretched out under your head, and his other, coiled tightly around your waist. His nose had burrowed into the junction of your neck and shoulder, and it's where he woke up.

Well, you both woke due to a midnight, drunken duel taking place nosily in the courtyard beneath your window; his arm subtly constricting to alert you he was awake.

"Do you want me to close the window?" You asked in a hoarse whisper, eyes still closed.

Daemon's breathing shifted some, a kiss being pressed to the skin of your neck, "'S all right, dove. Air feels nice."

You nodded and settled again, subtly smirking when his hand pulled up your stomach and palmed your bare breast under the tunic you wore - one that smelled of his sweat and blood and overall natural scent. He felt your breathing deepen, licking the shell of your ear in a slow, upward motion, and humming, "Sorry, cold hands."

"Mhm," you mumbled, reaching a hand back and up to pet over his neck and cheek; then lowering it again. But your breathing shifted again when his thumb and pointer finger gently pinched and rolled your nipple, almost forcing your back to arch lightly as you whined. "Daemon," you breathed, sleep slowly escaping your body. "'S late, my love - uh!" You moaned when he pinched sharper, mouth opening against your shoulder while pushing his hips up into yours.

"Shh, my darling girl," he spoke quietly in your ear, palming your breast again as his new focus became thrusting his hardening cock into the swell of your ass. "You are leaving me for the rest of the month," he groaned, "and I will be without you, unjustly. You can lay there if you desire, I just need to feel you, my dove."

You chuckled lowly, grinding back against him, "You have gone this long without me, my Dragon."

"Which was too long to start with, and now that I've had a taste," he groaned, "I do not wish to go without. But I promise you," he shifted so the arm under you was curled at an angel to toy with your tit, and the other dropped to your hip to help guide your motions, "this will be the only time we are apart, my love. I will never be without you again - and you will not know my absence."

Tears prickled your eyes, "Do you swear it?"

His tongue flattened against your neck, making your head jut to the side for his better access; grinding sharply into you, "I swear it, my love. Fuck," he moaned, sniffing into your neck, "my wife."

"Not yet," you teased breathlessly, the hand on your hip moving to gather the long tunic and pull up to free your bare bottom.

"Soon," he promised, snaking his hand along your hips to push between your legs. You gasp and let your leg move back to hook over his hips, his groan of approval assuring you it was the right move as his hand curled to push his fingers into you deeply.

"Daemon," you moaned as if in heat.

"I will not taste you yet," he purred, biting the tip of your ear and making you jolt. "But I will fill your cunt with my seed," his finger increased, "and leave you with my memory. I would spend tonight in you, my dove."

"Please," you whined, a hand over his to encourage the grip he had on your tit, as the other reached back to keep his face and mouth close to your flushing flesh. Your hand contracted over his, making it roughly paw at your breast; voice breathless, "My Dragon, do not tease me longer."

Daemon panted from behind you, both hands dropping to free his hips of trousers; stroking his throbbing member only a few times while lifting your leg. "Remember, dove..."

"You've got me," you finished, nodding as one hand lined himself up and the other held your leg; plunging into you at this new angle, and making you both cry out with unfiltered ecstasy. "Daemon, oh, my Gods," you praised, head tossed back to his shoulder as he grunted against your ear; settling himself in position.

One arm shot under your body to hold you in place; hand able to twist to rub at your clit, as his other hand coiled around you, laid between your breasts, to clamp around your throat in a hold.

You had heard other ladies mumbling about being 'fucked into bliss', and didn't understand until now. Daemon kept your body in position to allow his hips to piston into your own, balls slapping noisily, and teeth bared to let a few mangled grunts escape.

Your mouth felt like it was broken and could only hang open, turned slightly into the pillows beneath you both. Daemon was flooded with pleasure, muttering sweet, dirty nothings in your ear; warning you he was close, and fingering your clit. As you released around him, his praise was voiced like a sure stream - just as sure as his cum filled you to the brim, slightly leaking from around him and wetting the crack of your ass.

"Fuck," you begged with a pant, his breath fanning over the skin of your shoulders. When you shifted, he grunted lightly but seized your hips to anchor you in place.

"No, dove," he whispered, still behind you, "let me stay."

"I was not disinviting you from my bed, Daemon," you jested.

"Hmm, that is good," he smirked, landing a single kiss to your shoulder. "But I meant let my cock stay - buried in this sweet cunt. Just for the night, my dove."

His vulgar words made you shudder some, "Daemon..."

"I will leave you in the morning," he promised, "and have the tea sent. But for now," he stifled another groan, "let me stay, my pretty princess."

"How could I say no?" You smirked.

"That was the point," he grinned, chuckling lightly as you both shifted some for comfort. "Sleep, my love," he whispered, letting you twitch a little before settling. As you drifted off, your mind conjured would-be situations you might find yourself in with Daemon once you marry, pending if you could keep this affair hidden for a respectable amount of time.

Three weeks after your arrival to your husband's estate, you were finally done aiding in settling the estate and bringing his eldest son into his Lordship, and you were so fucking ready to head back to Kings Landing.

Lucky for you, as you had finished breakfast that morning, someone was shouting from the outside, "DRAGON!"

You gasped and nearly tripped over your own feet to rush for the windows, catching just a glimpse of Caraxes gliding through the air to land outside the stronghold's territory. You had dressed in black as a symbol of mourning, but something in your gut stirred with the idea of wearing the color to represent your new married name.

With as much calmness as you could muster, you met your step-son (who was only a few years younger than you) in the court room, and waited. Being as you were 'Lady' of the estate, he had trusted you to help him learn the ropes, and while he was technically on his own now, he still liked having your ear.

The doors of the court room opened, and the Prince Daemon surged through the doors with a (familiar) knowing smirk.

"Lord," your step-son greeted.

You leaned towards his ear, "That's Prince Daemon, love, he's addressed as 'Your Grace'."

"Oh," he nodded, eyes widening in embarrassment; but Daemon only smirked and clasped his hands in front of him as he came to a halt before the new Lord. "My most sincere apologies, my Prince, I uh... I have never met Royalty, I did not know."

"No apologies necessary, my Lord, you have offended no one on your quest for knowledge," Daemon smoothly assured.

"To what might we owe this unexpected pleasure?" You had taught the new Lord to be dutiful and polite, to always ask how he might offer aid before making any assumptions for anyone's arrival.

Daemon lifted his chin, "Much like she has done here, my brother requests the Lady of the House to return to King's Landing, where she might aid in tutoring the King's son."

"Oh," your step-son's eyes widened, and your hand laid over his clutching the arm rest of his seat. "Yo-You are being summoned, step-mother."

You internally cringed at the term. "Yes... So it would appear."

"We cannot reject the King, no matter how I wish for you to stay," he sighed, nodding. "Right, we will offer the dragon three sheep for his long journey," he nodded to a guard, "and tonight, we will feast. On the morrow, we will see you off," he nodded to you now.

"With respect?" Daemon took a step forward. "The King has sent me on my dragon to ensure the lady's swift and safe arrival back into the city. The sheep are appreciated, but not necessary," his hands waved your step-son's offering off.

You lifted your chin and spoke the lad's name. He turned to you, eyes almost hopeful - but you would not be offering any now. "Come to court this season, and I will sponsor you," you spoke quietly. "Only for the season, and if you do not find a wife, come for the next. The dynasty of your family now lies on your shoulders, love, and you will be expected to produce heirs."

He nodded, "Father mentioned it before..."

"He wasn't wrong," you nodded softly. "So, I will go with the Prince now and report to the King, and in three months, you will be a guest of the city and partake in the courts."

"My first time," he mumbled nervously.

"Ah," you sighed, "think not of it, for you will be with me."

"Thank you," he smiled with gratefulness. "Who would watch here?"

You smiled, "Who would you trust?"

Your step-son paused, "Maester Arwyn?"

"A good choice, love," your lips pulled with pride. "And court is only a season long, you will return soon."

"Hopefully married."

"Hopefully," you teased, standing from your seat. "With your leave, Lord?"

He nodded, "Of course, yes. Yes, you should pack - come, Prince Daemon, let me show you the grounds while the Lady makes herself ready."

"A splendid idea," you praised as Daemon smirked.

"I agree, I've never seen what your town's to offer," Daemon smirked, turning to follow your step-son; shooting you a smirk and wink over his shoulder, and leaving you alone.

The moment the doors clanged shut, you took a sobering breath, and tried to remind yourself it was real - and in five months, you'd call that man husband.

You were shameless in your rapid packing, most of your desired objects already in the Red Keep. Daemon was lead on a total tour of the stronghold, and you met the pair where Caraxes was waiting - Daemon making introductions, as your step-son nearly quivered in fear of the scaly beast.

You were quiet as you approached, not daring to interrupt the moment. Daemon beamed in mischief as he caught sight of you, backing up to wrap his arm around you, and after an assuring glance to make sure your step-son's eyes were still 100% on Caraxes, leaned in to press a searing kiss to your lips.

In his native tongue, Daemon whispered, "I've missed you, my sweet princess."

"I've missed you more," you whispered in reply, words drowned out by Caraxes' deep breathing. "Making friends?" you asked a little louder, in the common tongue, directing it at your step-son's back; pushing Daemon's hands away with a teasing smirk.

"He's incredible..."

"Isn't he?" You agreed, coming to his side; spying his hand still flat on the reddish scales. "You all right?" You whispered, spying the tears shining.

"Just... Mesmerized, I'm okay, promise," He assured you. "This is incredible."

"When you come to court, I will show you the Dragon Pit," Daemon nodded, clapping the lad on the shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Course."

"Thank you, Your Grace," the lad nodded, beaming in glee and excitement. "Oh, you are packed already," he noticed your rucksacks. "I suppose you are ready to depart, then?"

You sighed, "I will write - and you can write me."

"And I'll see you in three months..."

"You will," you sighed, pulling him in for a tight hug. Smoothing over his hair, you paused to give him an affection squeeze - press a quick kiss to his forehead - and release him. "You're gonna be fine," you whispered.

He nodded and turned to Daemon, bidding the Prince a goodbye, safe travels, and promising to take him up on his offers. Daemon smirked and watched him walk away before leading you to the other side of his dragon. "Nice lad," he complimented, pushing your rucksacks from your shoulders. "Bit young, no?"

"He'll learn," you panted, reaching up to hook your hand around his neck and yank him into you - lips colliding in a frenzied mess. "Missed you - so fucking much."

He huffed through his nose, meshing your lips together messily before pulling back, "Missed you more, my dove. More than you know."

"I think I know," you winked, kissing him again, and then straightening up off of Caraxes hide. "So? How does... This all work?" You asked, glancing to the dragon providing you with limited privacy.

"Come," he spoke steadily, grabbing your bags, hoisting them up his shoulder; then climbing into the saddle, storing the bags, and reaching for you.

In Valyrian, you asked Caraxes, "Am I allowed to mount you? Not gonna eat me, right?"

The dragon snorted and shifted his weight, turning his head forward, and seemingly giving the O-K. Daemon reached for you, guiding you up to the saddle, and let you settle behind him. "Go easy on me, yes?" You whispered in his ear, aware of the eyes still lingering from the stronghold.

"Course, dove," he smirked - and everyone heard from the ground how you screamed in fright as Caraxes took off in a (clumsy) sprint, spread his wings, and took flight.

"DAEMON!" You scolded once in the air, clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

"Get used to this, my love," he laughed.

"Oh, my Gods," you whimpered. "Listen! If the Gods wanted us to fly, they would've given us wings, Daemon, oh, my fuck! Please! Please!"

"You're safe, my love," he assured, a hand over your tense ones that held the front of his tunic in a vice grip. "I would never let anything happen to you, you know that. And Caraxes is bonded to me - he would not let anything happen to you, either."

"Okay, that's reassuring, love, but we're still hundreds of feet in the air," you worried, tightening your hold on him.

"Sweetheart," he spoke softly, caressing your arms around his middle, "just open your eyes a moment. I promise it's worth it."

With mustered bravery, you wrenched your clamped eyes open, and the breath was knocked from your lungs. You were higher than the clouds, and by the Gods, you could see all land and clouds; the sun streaming between gaps; and providing a view you could never of imagined unless on dragon-back.

"See?" he smirked. "Not too terrible, is it?"

You breathed against the back of his neck, "No - it's beautiful, even, my love, do not mistake that. Doesn't make this any more safe."

"You are with me - how much more safe can you be, my love?"

"On the ground!" You groaned, burying your face into his shoulder blades. "Being on the ground is safest."

"Debatable. On dragonback, we can make a quick getaway. Safety is paramount up here, and Caraxes is a firece companion who has saved my life more often than not."

You hummed, wondering in a quiet voice, "Would I ever have to ride without you?"

"Never, my love."

You sighed with relief, "Then I suppose I could try to get used to this. But... Not right now."

"I understand," he chuckled, patting your hands again. "But I will need you to do one thing for me, my sweet."

"Hmm?"

"Come here."

"I'm right behind you, Daemon."

"No, come to the front," he smirked, twisting in the saddle to lean to the side. "Trust me, please," he nodded, guiding you around his body to settle in front of him; facing, and koala hugging him. "See?" He mused, hands smoothing over your back and waist, "Not too terrible."

"No," you shuddered lightly. "But we are not doing that again."

"In truth, it was a test," he admitted, gently curling a strand of wild, loose hair behind your ear.

"For what?"

"To see the extent of your trust," he sighed lightly. "I know you have not spent a lot of time around dragons, but for you to then climb around me? Tells me more than you'll know."

You hummed lightly, snuggled against his pectoral, "Did I pass your test then, my Prince?"

Daemon nodded, pecking your forehead, "Yes, my dove."

The rest of the ride wasn't as exciting as the start, but you did feel safer than before; might've even stretched your hands back some to support your upper body. With your legs hooked around his hips, and his hands casually sweeping up and down your thighs, it was otherworldly to just gaze at the man you were set to marry.

"What is it?" He wondered after an hour, the dragon gliding lower as you surged towards the capital of the country.

"Nothing," you assured, biting back your smile. "You just look so handsome."

"Oh?"

"Mhm," you nodded, elaborating, "this is where you belong, my Prince. Not on an Iron Throne, but here, on your dragon's back."

Daemon's eyes slitted some, "Careful, dove. We are nearly home."

"That matters?"

"Considering if another compliment such as that one passes through your lips, I might not wait until we're back to fuck you," he purred, hands tight over your thighs and slightly prying them open more.

"I'm surprised you've waited this long, truthfully," you smirked, his bare hands then slipping under your skirts to hold your calves. "How has it been without me?"

"Miserable, my love," he groaned lightly, letting his hands slide up to grasp the backs of your knees. "You were dearly missed, I almost stopped showing up to court, but figured it'd be suspicious if I returned when you did."

"My poor Prince," You eased, letting your knees widen. "Worry not, for I am back. And this coming season won't be like the others, hmm?"

"I imagine not," he admitted, raking his eyes over you. "Black suits you, my dove."

"Not for the reasons I wear it now," you cocked your head. "But in a few months, I'll wear this color to represent my husband."

Daemon smirked, dragging you forward gently as he leaned forward until his lips hovered over your own, "How I cannot wait to hear that."

"Hmm?"

"Being called your husband," he purred, smirking lightly before letting his lips descend upon yours. His hands pushed to grip at your thighs now, pawing at the meat of your inner thighs to hoist you into his lap, and keep you spread for him.

You let out a shuddering breath when his fingers danced down either side of your crotch; Daemon smirking when you whimpered as he pet to the sides of your sopping hole. "Daemon," you whispered, stomach knotting in anticipation, "if you do not stop now, we will not anytime soon."

He sighed, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck as his fingertips danced down your glistening slit. "I know you are right, but fuck, dove, you smell divine."

"Wait until we're home," you whispered, licking the shell of his ear after to save yourself from releasing a desperate cry as he added slightly more pressure. "I don't want us seen for the rest of the night, my Prince."

"'S still early," he pointed out.

"Exactly," you panted, cunt contracting as he simply toyed with your lower lips; spreading your arousal as you resisted the urge to hump into him. "Daemon," you warned now.

"Too much, my love?" he teased.

"Do not make us land with me bouncing on your cock, hmm?" You returned, hearing him chuckle lowly. His fingers retracted and you almost whined in disappointment.

"Fine," he relented, readjusting to hold your hips over your black dress. "I will resist this sweet cunt, but when we get in, we are not leaving the bed. Hmm?"

You smirked, "I would not want to. Might we be interrupted?"

"I might have, possibly, alleged... Told Viserys not to bother us," he admitted, shrugging some as his eyes casted down. "Hmm, speaking of home," he nodded, your head twisting to gaze down at the approaching city. "C'mere, dove," he sighed again, twisting you so you were forward in the saddle; straddling the dragon with your Prince's hands tight over your hips. "You're a natural up here, you know?" He mused gently in your ear, hands moving over yours to properly position them on the pommel of the saddle.

"I have a decent teacher," you mused, now eagerly peaking over scaly shoulders.

"Is that right? He take you flying often?"

"Hmm, no," you answered. "Though I think I might be interested in trying it more. Think he'd be willing to lend some time to me?"

"Who could say no to someone like you, princess?" He teased in your ear, Caraxes soaring lower to loom over the city.

"I am not sure," you smirked over your shoulder, "but it's a damn good thing I find it hard to say no to him, too."

"That right?" his teeth scraped over your ear, making you inhale deeply and grind back against him - relishing in the feeling of his hardening cock that would soon be plunging into you. "Easy, my princess - don't need me finishing in my pants and giving us away now, do we?"

You sighed lightly, "Guess not."

He chuckled, pecking your neck before taking control of the dragon's reigns, whispering, "I cannot say no to you, either, my dove."

Your hand rose to pet over his cheek with a hum, his chin resting on your shoulder; the Dragon Pit coming into view, and after circling it, Caraxes was landing with a distinct thud and bellowing roar.

Your lungs had stuttered in nerves but one of Daemon's hands smoothed around your hips to keep you anchored against him as you rocked dangerously upon landing. When the dragon was stable, Daemon loosened his grip to peer around at you, "You all right, dove?"

"Yeah," you sniffled. "Bit rougher than I thought, but all right."

"You will get used to it, my love, promise," he promised, nudging his forehead to your temple for a brief moment. "All right, c'mere," he sobered up, grabbing your few bags, and dismounting first. When standing on the dragon's hide, he tossed your things to a guard on the ground, and reached up for you. "I've got you," he assured, easing you down from the saddle.

You grunted lightly when you landed, sighing with slight relief, and telling Caraxes in Valyrian, "Though that was incredible, it is nice to be on the ground again."

The dragon snorted a bit as if in humor, his master smirking as he shouldered your bags. "Come," he ushered, bags strategically placed in front of the tented fabric of his crotch.

Your hand wrapped around his bicep and had to hustle some to keep up with his strong stride, but then an idea came to mind. You looked around the streets you were passing through to reach the Red Keep, finding the one you were in deserted. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you quickly sidestepped into an alcove and yanked Daemon behind you.

Before he could question you, your hands pushed against his shoulders so he was against the stone wall, and only gave him a moment to breathe before your lips were sucking over his. Daemon's throat released a moan while you pushed the straps of your bags from his shoulders, then sliding up to his short hair to twist your fingers between.

Daemon, like a man starving, kissed you with overwhelming need; tongue instantly lapping with your own as his hands held you tightly by your waist, hips, up to your jaw; raking through your own hair, and doing everything they could to keep you close.

Your hips rolled forward into his, making his lungs inhale sharply, and his fingers to bruise your flesh deliciously. With a low growl, Daemon turned you both, shoving you into the brick as if his resolve was crumbling; moaning into your mouth when you tugged his locks.

"Daemon," you panted lightly, petting your fingertips down his cheek.

"Yes, my love?" He whispered, licking into your mouth again.

You hummed, hand moving to steel around his neck and jaw to force his lips off yours. "Listen to me," you grinned, clinging to him as if a young Lady - new to love. He nodded, nose nuzzling yours. "The estate is settled, and the new Lord reigns. Everything went to plan, my Dragon."

"He's buried?" Daemon checked, switching to his native tongue in case of anyone lingering. "Gone?"

"Gone from us," you promised, caressing his cheek after. "I am yours, my love..."

"Fucking finally," he groaned, surging forward again to capture your lips in a grinning-kiss. "You're all I've ever wanted, my princess. Fuck..."

"The moment it's acceptable, I will marry you," you promised, kissing him again.

"My love," he chuckled, pecking your lips happily, "if you do not control yourself, I will take you right here."

You sighed with a small whine, bottom lip pouted. "Sounds ravishing."

"My dirty girl," he seethed, kissing you once and forcing himself away. "Gods," he paused, breathing through his nose as he tried to force the blood from his engorged cock - but nearly crumpled when your hand palmed over him. "Dove - "

"I will thank your brother for welcoming me back," you promised, giving a squeeze, "and then I will fuck you all night. Three weeks was far too long."

"How we went a decade, I'll never know," he cleared his throat, losing the battle to press into your working hand. "Sweetheart..."

"Do not lose this," you purred against his mouth, "I want you to cum in my mouth first."

Daemon whimpered when you let go, biting your lip with a knowing grin. "Dangerous woman," he cursed, forehead to yours. "And now I must see my brother? Like this? Truly?"

"Or you can wait for me," you whispered in his ear, "and be naked when I return."

Daemon let his teeth gnash across your neck. "We will see the King," he decided, pulling back to inhale deeply, "and then I will show you where we are residing."

"'We'?" you questioned gently.

He smirked, nodding, "I might've bargained for a better set up for us, my dove."

"What does that mean?"

"A bigger, much more private room," he smirked. "For you and I only."

You fought the grin threatening to overtake your face, "I'd like that."

"Good," he whispered, pecking your lips gently. "You deserve it all, my sweet."

This time, you lifted your chin to let your nose brush up his, "So long as I have you, my Prince, I am overly blessed. You're all I need."

"Good," he beamed, caressing your cheek. "Come, the faster this is over, the sooner I can have you in my mouth."

You smiled and took his arm again; bags on his shoulder once more to cover his trousers, and within minutes, you were entering the Red Keep. Perhaps it was a simple stroke of good luck that Ser Strong was seen, Daemon calling his name.

"Ah, my Prince," the Hand greeted, stealing a glance at you. "And my Lady, what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Do you know where my brother is?"

"In his chambers," Strong answered. "He's not in the best of states at the moment, Your Grace."

Daemon only hummed and lead you past the Hand of the King; barely letting you sputter your thanks before you were pulled around a corner. "Where are we going?" You asked as he lead you to a part of the castle you've never been in before.

"To see the King, and give our thanks," he eased. "Do not fret, my dove, you will need to get used to visiting the King in his private residence."

"Seems out of place for me," you mentioned.

"You will be the Princess of the City, my sweet," he smirked, "and you will never be out of place. Come," he soothed, leading you up to a pair of doors.

An hour later, you and Daemon were bowing out of the room, and leaving Viserys to rest. He asked of your husband's funeral, and when you informed him of your step-son coming to court this season, he was most intrigued to meet the new Lord. He was a kindly old man, and Daemon just smirked proudly as he watched the two of you catch up and chat.

By the end, Viserys was tired, and let you and Daemon take your leave. His raging hard-on had soothed some, no longer requiring your bags to be used to strategically hide his crotch. However, when you left the King, Daemon smirked and laced your hands together before leading you towards a separate tower.

"Love?" You wondered, watching him check up and down the hallway before prying a large portrait from the wall; swinging out to reveal a lone hallway.

"Private, just for us," he muttered, leading you through the doorway, and showing the mechanism that would keep the door secure.

"Who'd you have to kill for this, my Prince?" You sighed patiently, the hallway short, and leading to another door.

"It was closed off," he admitted, "but I convinced Viserys it would be good for us until we're publicly married. It's been renovated during your leave."

"Your brother is doing us too many favors," you frowned slightly, entering the new room. "Gods," you breathed, looking all around in wonder. The room was large, circular, and already fully furnished.

"He's happy to help," Daemon answered, watching you soak in the surprise. "Well? Do you like it?"

"Love it, my Prince," you beamed, nodding in reassurance.

"Good," he nodded. "It's ours if we wish to keep it past our wedding night."

"Maybe," you admitted. "The privacy is to die for."

"Thought you might appreciate it, my dove," he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to peer out of the balcony doors. "It's ours, then."

"For now," you mused.

"Hey?" He let his lips press to your neck.

"Daemon," you turned in his arms, sighing lightly, "have you not given thought to what we are to do after we marry?"

"Besides have babies?" he mused lightly.

"Besides that, yes," you chuckled. "Where we might live, Daemon. You are second son, and I am but a daughter - set to marry for the second time. There are no lands in my name," you sighed, petting over his chest, "and I cannot offer you anything."

"You are enough for me, my love," he promised. "And we can live where we choose - that I promise you. Worry not," he sighed lightly, leaning in to press his lips to your forehead.

"What of the Stepstones?" You wondered, chin pressed to his sternum as he hummed.

"What of them, my sweet? To live?"

"Are you not King there?" You teased lightly. "Maybe it has the making for a new kingdom... Just needs a bit of man power to ensure it goes to plan, hmm?"

Daemon nodded, "Only problem, my love, is that the Stepstones are temperamental and unpredictable. Hardly a place to raise a family."

"Where would you raise our children?"

He paused a moment to consider your words, asking, "In truth?"

"Please."

He sighed, "Perhaps... On Dragonstone, but with family around. I grew with my brother, mother, father, cousins - aunts, uncles..."

You nodded sadly, "Perhaps we could..." Your shoulders shrugged lightly, "Stay here? Where you are with your brother?"

"No," he spoke with conviction, pulling your face to his so he could see you in full, "for this is not a city to raise a family in. Our children will be free of the burdens this capital brings."

You nodded, "So, where, my Prince?"

He chuckled, "I hear Lys is nice."

"And Pentos," you added.

"And parts of Essos."

"Maybe even Dorne."

"Maybe not," he chuckled lightly. "Wherever we want to go, my sweet, we will. For now, do not fret, we have time to plan our next move."

"Being a wedding," you smirked.

"Hmm," he paused, "no, I believe it would first be to court you - then I'll marry you."

You chuckled and rocked onto your toes, agreeing, "I cannot wait."

"At the end of this season, you will be mine," he beamed, nuzzling his nose with yours. "And I might start actually thanking the Seven."

"Oh," you laughed, watching his lips almost involuntarily spread, "it's that serious, is it? Moved to religion, are you?"

Daemon smirked and leaned in close, slowly kissing you before whispering, "I've finally got the woman of my dreams, yeah... Yeah, I'm moved to religion, my princess. I've waited too long for this."

Your throat felt thicker than before, your toes pushing you up to wrap your arms around his neck; burrowing into his warmth, and feeling his arms tighten around you. "You'll never be without me," you promised him, petting down the back of his head before threading your fingers through his short locks. "I love you, Daemon..."

He breathed a sigh of relief, lips puckering to place a kiss along your shoulder, "I love you more, my sweet dove."

part three: Darkening Hour

Midnight Calls masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[fabuloustrash05]

TMNT 2012: Medieval AU

This is an AU I had in mind long ago, but never did anything with it. I had a lot of ideas and concepts for this AU, but I never had the time to write a fanfic for it (busy writing other fanfics plus personal stuff going on).

However, I did write these plot/character introduction summaries of the Turtles and Karai, so I thought it would be fun to share them with you! Enjoy! <3

Plot Summary:

The Hamato Kingdom was a peaceful land full of joy and laughter. The land was ruled by King Splinter. Not only was he a wise, brave, kind and was loved by all his subjects, but he was also a loving father of his five children, a daughter and four sons, Princess Miwa, Prince Leonardo, Prince Raphael, Prince Donatello, and Prince Michelangelo. The Kingdom was happy, until one fateful day. The King mysteriously fell ill and too soon he met his untimely death. The kingdom was devastated and the king's children were in despair. Now that the king is gone, Miwa must take the throne and become the Queen her father has prepared her for her whole life, but is she truly ready for the task at hand?

Character Introduction Summary:

King Splinter's oldest child and only daughter, Princess Miwa, is known for being one of the most beautiful and most intelligent maidens in the kingdom. Though she is a lady, she is very knowledgeable when it comes to the battlefield and is skilled with a sword, though her father worries for her safety with her dangerous interests. Her whole life her father has molded her to become the perfect future queen of the kingdom. Everyday preparing her for when she must take the throne, though she does not look forward to her fate as queen. Rather she wants to see what's beyond her kingdom and be free from her royal status. She has a fascination with the dark arts of magic, wanting to learn about it, but she fears to tell her family of this secret desire and true interests. Instead she stays inside the castle walls preparing for her time on the throne to arrive, giving her family a false personality and persona and hiding her true self.

Prince Leonardo is the oldest son, but the second oldest child, of King Splinter. The Prince is as kind and wise as his father, many say he reflects his father at a younger age. The prince loves his kingdom and family dearly. He looks up to his father and idolizes him. He’s responsible, wise, and knowledgeable of the royal court, but his insecurities often take over him for he believes he’s not good enough to be given the title of King and believes his sister will make an excellent ruler instead of him. Leo instead spends his days reading, practicing his sword fighting, or riding his horse around the kingdom’s land. He’s known as a handsome young man who many of the maidens in the kingdom admire. Prince Leo is also unaware of a certain arrangement his father has made with another king from the neighboring Kingdom of Salamandria that involves him and their princess. He loves his family and his kingdom and is willing to do anything to keep them happy and safe.

Prince Raphael, the third oldest, is the most rebellious of the King’s sons. A confident and charming young man who loves to hunt and has a fiery passion to fight for and defend his kingdom alongside the royal guards. However because of his royal status he is obligated to stay in the kingdom, just like his brothers, and work on his royal duties. Though he can’t go to war Raphael still trains with his friend, one of the royal guards, Sir Casey, or chats with the royal blacksmith, Slash, there he learns more about weaponry and how to properly use a blade. Sometimes he envies his older brother Leonardo for the attention and praise he gets from the citizens, often feeling stuck in his shadow. While he’s talented with a sword, Raphael is also blessed with the skills of an artist and a poet. Next to hunting, painting is one of his favorite hobbies. Though he may not seem like it at first glance, Prince Raphael is a kind soul with the heart of an artist, who just wishes to live the life he desires, but his biggest struggle and personal sin is his blooming attraction for his older brother’s betrothal.

Prince Donatello is well known as the most intelligent young man in the kingdom, almost always seen having a book in his hand. Though he is smart he tends to not acknowledge the world around him since he practically grew up in the royal library spending most of his days reading and learning from his private tutors. Practically isolated in the library for years. Some rumor that the young prince was born in the library, hence why he almost never leaves. Being fourth in line to the throne, Donatello doesn’t care if he’ll ever become king or not. The young prince just wishes to travel the land beyond his kingdom and explore the world to learn new things. His intelligence can often make him stubborn and will often refuse to admit wrong. Though his stubbornness was one day called out by his sister’s lady in waiting, April, who told him to be more open to the world and get out of his comfort zone. After that day, Donatello has had an admiration towards April and the mysteries of the outside world.

The youngest child is Prince Michelangelo. The kindest of the four brothers, Michelangelo is rumored to have a heart so pure it's made of gold. He cares for the poor and often donates his riches to charities. His kindness however, can often be taken advantage of. It makes him naive and unsure of the dangers out there in the real world, quite often getting himself into trouble. Because of that, the young prince is required to have a personal guard, Sir Leatherhead, who must keep watch of him everyday. Even with that however, Michelangelo loves to spend time with the servants of the castle for he considers them his family as well and even assists them in their chores when his family is not looking. Michelangelo is a carefree young man with very little duties who’s loved by many and is open to try new things.

Fun Fact: I originally planned to make a fanfic of this AU instead of my other AU fanfic "Turtles in the Roaring 20's", but I had more of a story put together and more passion for the 1920s AU compared to this one, so it was scrapped.

[houseofthelilypads]

Shrek Princesses Rewrite Edition 🐸👑🍎👡😴💇

Based on my own headcanons & plans for their roles in my rewrite of Shrek 3. Because if I can redeem Artie and Charming then the ladies deserve that same chance!!

AND DORIS TOO >:[

Fiona

Had a private tutor during her time at the tower

When food wasn't available she took to eating lava bread and smoked rats and bugs

Is heat resistant

She did venture out the tower when dragon was away

Studied martial arts through books and watching on the magic mirror

Her friends often stopped by to visit her, but as they got settled in adult lives grew too busy

Fiona loves kids and hopes to give her own children a childhood she never had

Does carry some resentment towards her parents she only vents in private tho

She can sing but on a normal range. Any higher it well... The bird scene in the first film

She loves swimming and water activities partly due to being surrounded by lava half of her life

Her favorite colors are green and blue they remind her of nature and to her, nature = freedom

Has bleached her hair a few times

She makes mud based beauty products and sell them on the side

Still listens to Sir Justin's music and has been to his concert

Knows of Artie's existence; they bond a lot over their parental issues

Fiona mentors artie how to defend himself, he has some proficiency in martial arts

Inherited her red hair from her grandmother

The reason Fiona was an ogre is partly due to her father being the Frog prince and guess where frogs live?

It's also believed that one of fiona's ancestors actually married an ogre but VERY long ago; the curse just brought out her genes

Fiona loves to stargaze; she also collected obsidian and volcanic rock

Sleeping Beauty

Is in a long distance relationship with the Sandman

Her dress is green because that's the color her disney counterpart never wears

Is the last one to arrive at a ball and the first one to leave

She has beds in every room but is usually found sleeping on the floor

Doesn't want children because she's too exhausted and fears any potential kids might inherit her condition

She actually understands Fiona dating someone who isn't human nor royalty, she dates the freaking god of SLEEP

Has the most patience with Snow because she sleeps through her nonsense anyways

Just like the video game adaptation of the third movie, she has the power to summon an army

Was the most hurt by Rapunzel's betrayal, they were the closest due to their similar backstories and lack of a biological family

Rapunzel

Used to date another prince but he never came back to her tower so she eventually rescued herself. This is why she latched on to Charming in canon (and Bruce in my fanfic)

After getting charged with treason Rapunzel is made to serve community service. She hates it but considers it better than exile

She wears gold to match her hair

She owns a lot of wigs after suffering loss of her real hair (which she shaved off).

Cinderella

Cleans her own home

Lives in a smaller house compared to the rest

The others tease her for it but understands it's to make it easier for her to clean; having spent her whole childhood cleaning a giant estate

Is a master at blacksmithing and glassblowing; what she didn't JUST clean her home she had to do repairs too

Carries some cleaning supplies

Is VERY careful in leaving crumbs

Dislikes rats and cockroaches; she has a cat named Chandelier for this reason (my twist on Disney's Cinderella)

Is working to unlearn her people pleasing

has a better relationship with her stepsisters as adults

Her prince suffers from face blindness and as such gets her confused with other ladies. He even mistook Shrek for her

She doesn't mind kids but she rather work on reconciling with her stepfamily and heal from the abuse than pass down any baggage

The third strongest princess due to years of heavy lifting

Had the closest relationship with Fairy Godmother; was even considered a potential suitor for Charming but Cindy didn't like his vanity and immaturity.

When Cindy finds out about their plan to break up Fiona's marriage she is saddened but not surprised given Charming's past behavior

Snow White

She's my least favorite but I can explain why she acts like that

Developed an Ice Queen persona to protect herself

Living with seven bachelors rubbed off on her

Love rock music

Trained her animals to fight; found the larger animals surprisingly easier to tame

There's another Snow White but she is younger and has white hair.

If she ever sees her MGA doll irl she would be impressed that it's the only doll that managed to stay the most accurate to how she looks. She'd cut the hair

Does feel a little guilty for her mean girl attitude especially after it pushed Rapunzel away so post canon she works to be a little nicer

Her prince is actually the huntsman sent to kill her; he disguised himself as one to warn her of the evil queen

Still visits the dwarves time to time and even lets them live with her

Doris

Chose to reconcile with Cinderella after taking a good long hard look at herself

Is the girly girl of them all

The first thing she brought with her first paycheck was a purple dress, she couldn't afford the color after losing her home

Doesn't like to talk about her mother

After Fiona she is the 2nd physically strongest Princess

Knows every beauty trick in the book, every ingredient, foundation shade, even which brand of Lead

Shaves her legs using a sugar and lemon wax method, she doesn't use razors

She knows my OC Gwynn from when Gwynn was a teenager first arriving at the Poison Apple

She still has a crush on Charming, but tones it down after he starts dating Gwynn

Her friction with Mabel started after Doris expressed desire to make up wth Cindy, Mabel didn't see what they had to apologize for.

After Shrek 3 Doris works at the Candy Apple, which is an extension of the Poison Apple but FOR KIDS

[missacidburn928]

Moonlight & Fang Masterlist

Fantasy/Little Red Riding Hood/ABO AU 

Our Alphas: Jax Teller, Dean Winchester, Captain Syverson, Ari Levinson, Bucky Barnes

Our Little Red Omega "Selene/Red": Omega Fae with powerful sex magic who's scent lures the strongest Alpha's from all around to test their might and virility. Light hazel eyes in shades of green and amber. Full pouty lips. Thicc and curvy. Built to be every wolf’s desire. Made to be bred. Has an unquenchable lust for the taste of Alpha blood on her tongue and her mark on their flesh. 

Summary:

Their sweet words fall like bittersweet honey. Lacing pain and menace under a sugary facade. Coating everything. Sticky, sweet and unthreatening. All earth and warmth. The best disguise for unsuspecting beings, with open hearts and damaged souls.

A succulent entree for her sharp teeth to feast upon. For she is made of moonlight and fang. All charm and soulful eyes. While hiding an all encompassing darkness inside. 

Sinful lips with a deadly tongue. Patiently waiting for her prey to become safe and lucid. Drunk off of her words and lingering touch.

When their red hoods fall, exposing the softness of their throats. Her eyes become bigger, as her hunger and lust for flesh grows. Just one bite and she'll change your life.

My, oh my.

What big fangs you have my dear.

🐺

Chapters:

Little Red

The Orphan

The Hunter

The Blacksmith

The Rogue

The Forgotten Prince

Balance

[topazadine]

OC Fun Facts Tag

Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling! I particularly liked that your villain has a New Jersey accent lmao.

I'll do five fun facts for each of my main characters.

Uileac Korviridi

His favorite Bremish festival (predictably) is Feast of the Horse, particularly the mounted archery competition. I mean duh. He makes everyone else look like pathetic losers.

He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but Cerie does, so their house is usually filled with all manner of sweets.

Uileac has a bunch of weird little rituals he does before battle, like making sure he has an even number of arrows (lucky) and brushing his horse Erix's armor with blessed oils. I mean, I guess they've worked? He hasn't died yet ....

One would expect such a dextrous man would play an instrument, but he doesn't, he's too busy to learn. Though he thinks the fiddle is pretty cool.

If he did not have his beloved palomino mare Erix, he'd probably want a dapple gelding.

Orrinir Relickim

Even though he went through all the same training as Uileac did, Orrinir has never figured out how to fire a bow. No amount of training seems to make it stick.

His favorite Bremish festival is the Feast of Saint Mermina, where people throw flower votives of the saint into the water and swimmers try to retrieve them. Every damn year, Uileac intentionally designs his so they fall apart, but poor Orrinir tries anyway.

Orrinir LOVES to bake. He's very proud of his manly and cool creations in the kitchen. You know, like little apple dumplings shaped like hearts. Incredibly manly. Very brave.

Because he does not drink much, Orrinir is a total lightweight. As such, he typically is the responsible non-drinker who escorts his mildly drunk husband Uileac and embarrassingly drunk sister-in-law Cerie home.

Orrinir has been known to play around with a mini piano (kalimba) on occasion, usually when bored out in the field. He likes it because you don't really need any musical knowledge to get it to work.

Haniya Aina

Haniya is EXACTLY what you think when you think "horse girl." Kinda snobby, convinced that she has a unique bond with horses that no one else in the world could ever fathom, and obsessed with the latest and greatest in tack trends. Her horse Saelsie has tack that costs more than most peoples' houses, and can you blame her? Girlie is a literal princess.

Because her mother, Queen Susuma, was essentially absent throughout her childhood, Haniya was raised by governesses and teachers.

She loves music boxes and has quite a collection. Diplomats who want to get in her mother's good graces know to bring Haniya a pretty music box for her trouble. One of her favorites has a mechanical dancing horse.

Haniya's brother, Prince Daiski, was meant to learn fencing, but Haniya, who actually wanted to learn it, was told it wasn't a "women's skill." As such, she lied to Daiski about when his practices were supposed to be and showed up instead, threatening the instructor into silence. Those were her favorite childhood memories.

Her favorite books are about faraway lands, especially travel logs of distant places. Any time that a diplomat comes to visit her mother, she corners them and picks their brain.

Ono Kagan

Ono, being deeply socially awkward, is more comfortable around animals than people. Even animals that he's rather scared of, like dogs.

His first romantic/sexual relationship is with his wife, Vinanna, who is charmed by how sweet and shy he is. YES! The pathetic virgin gets the pretty girl!

The average Sinan outside of the upper classes is illiterate, but Ono taught himself after becoming a royal guard by taking shifts guarding the library. There, he read the children's books that Haniya and her siblings would have been told as children before working his way up to more difficult texts.

His most prized possession is his sword, Melikik ("the sea cutter"), made by his father, a blacksmith.

Ono can't hold his liquor. Like at all.

Mordrek Willets

Mordrek is somehow both the straightest and the least homophobic person in all of Sina. Gay men serve as great wingmen, and lesbians can teach him even more ways to romance a beautiful woman. Bisexuals? Why, he admires anyone who has enough eyes to ogle both sides.

He considers his mule, Carrot, to be his best friend and closest confidante. Carrot gets the best of everything, even when Mordrek can't afford to feed himself.

His greatest fear is heights. Maybe that's why Queen Susuma keeps sending him to high-altitude places.

Mordrek is agnostic. He jokes that all the gods probably hate him, so he doesn't want to believe they exist.

Though Mordrek gambles on occasion, he only plays games that he knows he can win with his wiles. Or by paying someone to fix the game for him.

Cerie Korviridi

Cerie is one of the most irritating overachievers you will ever meet. When she's working on something, you better leave her alone or you're going to get your head bit off.

Sometimes she likes to daydream about what she would have been if she didn't become a High Poet. Her top three alternate professions are horse trainer, potter, and leatherworker.

Cerie is messy af and is always forgetting where she put stuff. Orrinir yells at her about it all the time.

She's a night owl, which is unusual in a country that doesn't have artificial light like Breme. She just likes it when all the world is asleep and she can focus on whatever she wants to do.

Her favorite festival is the Feast of Snow Lights, where people go around and recite two-line traditional poems; if the homeowner misremembers it, they have to give the guest a drink. She, of course, has them all memorized, but sometimes she'll come up with her own just to screw with people, and then they have to call a "truce" and both give each other something.

Tagging @drchenquill, @the-golden-comet, @mysticstarlightduck, @davycoquette, and open tag

[mask131]

Seasonal theme: Magical summer (beginning)

This summer will be a season of wonders and enchantments, of spells and wizards - a magical summer!

Here is a list of beings, entities, objects and concepts you can check out if you want to add some magic to your summer:

In the myths, legends and so-called “real” world...

In the Arthurian literature: Merlin the enchanter, most famous of all wizards, derived from the legendary Welsh figure of Myrddin. Morgan le Fay, the ever-so-ambiguous enchantress of Arthurian mythos. Excalibur, the greatest and most iconic of all magical swords.

In Greek mythology: Hecate, the goddess of magic and witches. Circe, the divine enchantress of the Odyssey. Medea, the most frightening sorceress of the Greek legends. Lamia, a Greco-Roman bogeywoman that medieval times assimilated with various monsters and witches.

In Norse mythology: seidr, the old Norse magic, and its patron goddess Freya. Loki, expert shapeshifter and trickster supreme.

Christian legends, myths and beliefs: the Malleus Maleficarum, the unfamous manual used by many witch-hunters during the great witch hunts throughout Europe - a manual which was not accepted by the Church, unlike what many people believe. The Ars Goetia, both the art of invoking demons and the grimoire containing the secrets of said art. Astaroth, a demon often associated today with witchcraft. The famous witches sabbath, that was the great terror and fantasy of devil-fearing men of the Middle-Ages and the Renaissance. The paintings of Goya, which illustrated the various superstitions and beliefs surrounding witches in Spain.

The folklore of the British Isles: the British Grimalkin, with its cousins the English King of Cats and the Celtic Cat-sith. Lugh, the Irish Celtic god that mastered all of the arts, including magic.

Vaïnämöinen, the great bard-enchanter of Finland, and one of the sorcerer-heroes of the Kalevala alongside the magical blacksmith Ilmarinen, all fighting against the evil witch-queen Louhi.

In fairytales: the fairytales of the brothers Grimm brought many of the famous fairytale witches, from the evil queen with her magic mirror in Snow-White to the witch living in a house of bread and sugar in Hansel and Gretel. In Slavic fairytales, the great and iconic witch is the dreaded Baba Yaga. The French fairytales also brought the archetype of the fairy godmother: Cinderella, Toads and Diamonds, Donkeyskin, Cunning Cinders, The Hind in the Woods/The White Doe, Prince Marcassin... And let’s not forget Carabosse, the wicked fairy of the fairytale Princess Mayblossom, that became thanks to Tchaïkovsky’s ballet the old antagonistic fairy of Sleeping Beauty. Plus: the seven-league boots, one of the most famous magical items of French fairytales, appearing in Little Thumbling or The Orange Tree and the Bee.

The world of alchemy: the famous philosopher’s stone, elixir of life, and panacea that formed the ultimate goals of alchemists. Hermes Trismegistus, the mythological patron and ancestor of all alchemists (himself a mix of the Greek god Hermes and the Egyptian god Thoth). Nicolas Flamel, the 14th century book-seller everybody believed to be the discovered of the philosopher’s stone.

Some famous grimoires of our world: The Book of Abramelin, a tome of sacred Jewish magic. The Lesser Key of Solomon, a demonology grimoire of the 17th century inspired by the older book of sacred spells known as The Key of Solomon. The very famous duo of French grimoires known as the Grand Albert and Petit Albert. The Book of Shadows, a type of grimoire originally part of the Wicca religion, and that became popularized in America media thanks to the television series Charmed.

Principles, beliefs, personalities and practices of our world (which, as you will note, frequently mix magic with religion and folk-healing): Nostradamus, the great French prophet. The magi of Persia, Zoroastrian priests and astronomers that gave birth to the concept of the “mage” as we know it today. The original mana - not the video game mechanic, but the supernatural force of Oceanian beliefs. The Celtic druids and the most famous of their sacred sites: Stonehenge. The marabout, a type of Muslim holy man from Africa to whom was attributed some magical powers in folk-belief. The shamans of Siberia, the ones from which the very principle of “shamanism” was codified in the West. The medecine people of the First Nations in Northern America. The sangomas of Southern Africa, one of the most famous types of African “witch-doctors”. The Haitian Vodou and the Louisiana/New-Orleans Voodoo, folk-religions and magic beliefs deriving from the Vodun religion of West Africa (not to be confused with their various “cousins”, such as the Vodu of Cuba, the Jejé of Brazil or the Hoodoo).

More general magic tropes and concepts: the magic potion. The flying broomstick. The magic wand, or its variation the wizard’s staff. The familiar of the witch. The trope of the wizard duel, which, despite its prominence in modern literature and contemporary folk songs, has roots in ancient mythological fights and legendary magic hunts. The tempestarii, or the belief in weather-influencing, weather-changing sorcerers.

[wolgerrswraith]

writing share tag!

Tagged by @aintgonnatakethis . Sorry for taking so long to reply, but I legitimately wrote nothing over the weekend and only got something done last night.

From Bloodbound Hearts, a new scene with Suzanna realizing how trapped she is. (Went a little heavy with the "princess" metaphor, but meh. It works.)

The moon was full, the cold rays dappling off the surface of the water surrounding her tower like forgotten diamonds. She felt like a princess in a storybook, but not the sort with a happy ending: she was the sleeping beauty no one could remember, a poisoned dreamer rotting away in her glass coffin prison. No prince was going to ride in to save her, and no kiss would end her curse. Suzanna had been born into this life, and that was all there was for it. Wishing did very little to help those who lived outside the pages of her old storybooks. That didn't help the dark ache festering in her chest, a sucking pit of loneliness and jealousy that threatened to consume her whole should she give in to it. More often than not, that ache won, and an inescapable ennui fell over her. Her days bled one into another, a fog of despair clouding her thoughts. There would be no prince charming, no brave knight on a brilliant white steed to slay the dragon and free her from the suffocating grip of her father's love. There would only be the dark corridors of the castle, the sickly sweet stench of the roses, and the monthly trips to the village now altered by her incident with the blacksmith's apprentice. A never ending rut that would see her through to the end of her days.

Tagging @fortunatetragedy @winglesswriter @aintgonnatakethis @dyrewrites

[snowangeldotmp3]

time for more ouat au Lore! this time: steddie edition

this is how steve dresses in the real world. in the real world he’s a teacher at the school (honestly debated on teacher or keeping him at the family video but i think teacher worked better) keeping in with actual ouat lore, he’d be the one to give max the story book.

in the enchanted forest/fairytale land. steve was a prince. a prince who was originally supposed to marry nancy (and uh. that didn’t go as planned) but he’s like, the prince. (he resents being called prince charming but, it’s the truth!) but these are his outfits/outfit references for prince steve

in the real world, eddie is a mechanic. he can fix any car (or really, anything you bring to him) but he’s also a DM for his dnd group and he plays guitar/sings for his band, corroded coffin. but when he’s not working in the auto shop, wearing cuffed/rolled up coveralls, he’s wearing this

in the enchanted forest/fairytale land, eddie is a blacksmith! he and wayne work on weapons and such. until one day he decides he’s had enough of royal tyranny and their oppressive reign. so he decides to rob the princes carriage (steve’s carriage) turns out, he meets steve and though he’s incredibly reluctant to admit it, it’s true love. they go from enemies to lovers, fighting off curses—the biggest one being the sleeping curse. eddie is put under a sleeping curse, and wayne, thinking he’s dead, gives him a glass casket. but steve knows better, and he knows he’s the one who has to bring eddie back. and he does! so these outfits range from eddie’s ‘bandit’ outfit to ‘holy shit i’m with prince steve harrington’ outfits

(tagging @gothbat99 and @perceivedregret bc i thought y’all might like to see!!)

[pixelpayaso]

Pigments Characters info sheets

Flame Seraphim

He/They omnisexual demiboy

Fire element

Prince

Optimistic and impulsive

Wants to be a good leader for his people

Caspian Matelot

He/Him gay man

Water element

Sailor

Loyal and cautious

Wants to find purpose outside of his occupation

Blossom Vernali

She/Her sapphic demisexual

Plant element

Baker

Caring and timid

Wants to repair the peace in her life

Iris Cumulo

She/They lesbian woman

Air element

Dancer

Carefree and solitary

Wants to see the world on her own

Lucía Esperanza

She/Her bisexual transfem

Light element

Priestess

Gentle and naive

Wants to appease her god and temple

Pluto Hanzoku

They/He demisexual transmasc

Dark element

Assassin

Determined and cold

Wants to save his people from erasure

Jahan Sahandro

He/Him pansexual man

Earth element

Blacksmith

Charming and overbearing

Wants to protect his family from corruption

Beryl Emera

They/She bisexual demigirl

Crystal element

Assistant

Energetic and stubborn

Wants to live for herself and without judgement

Rai Stratus

He/Him aroace man

Lightning element

Aviator

Easy-going and anxious

Wants to help his home prosper and thrive

Nival Baikal

She/Her woman with unlabeled sexuality

Ice element

Guard

Dependable and serious

Wants to protect her kingdom from outside threats

[atonalginger]

Julien "Fox" Prince

Rules: bold = always, italics = sometimes.

FLAWS:

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | lies | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | masochistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive | rebellious

STRENGTHS:

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

SKILLS & HOBBIES:

art | acting | astronomy | animals | archery | sports | baking | beach-combing | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping | candle making | gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise  | swordplay | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leather working | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | writing | travelling | exotic dancing | minor potion brewing | tricks and trinkets | crow keeping

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Hobbit Teasers and Future Works

FUTURE WIPS

Bonded

Summary: The Naming Ceremony where a hobbit bonds with his dragon for the first time is supposed to be a blessing, Bilbo’s came as more of a curse when he was chosen as the Alpha-Bond. Bilbo and Smaug have never gotten along, but after a Naming Ceremony goes wrong and Smaug is fleeing the Shire, Bilbo knows he will stop at nothing until he sees their Alpha safely home.

Teasers: Teaser 1

Chasing Dragons and Bedding Burglars

Summary: When Thorin Oakenshield transferred to Ered Luin PD, there was really only one thing on his mind: finally catch the monster that destroyed his family. However, he quickly learns Ered Luin lives under the rule of the local mafia and figures the only way to catch Smaug is to pretend to be a dirty cop and make nice with the supposed crime boss known only as “The Burglar”.

Teasers: (I have changed Thorin and Bilbo's positions since these teasers, but they still somewhat apply.) Birthday WIPs and Things

From the Pieces of Your Shattered Memories

Summary: Bilbo was just checking on a coma patient that he might have a teensy little crush on. Now, he’s on the run with said man who can’t even remember who he is as they escape assassins and potentially uncover a plot that will destroy Erebor.

Teasers: Modern May | Birthday Plot Bunnies

I Married an Assassin

Summary: Twelve years ago, Bilbo fell for a charming man who saved his life in his university library. While he loves his husband and their son, he finds his life to be a bit…dull. So when he comes across the adventure of a lifetime, he has to take it! Only this particular adventure has the potential to crash his life around him considering his boring accountant husband might actually be an assassin who’s been doing his best to keep him out of the eyes of a terrorist organization due to a clue left behind by his mother.

Teasers: Modern May

Oakenshield's Fourteen

Summary: After being framed and imprisoned for embezzlement, Thorin is out for revenge. He's going to need a crew if he's going to pull off this heist though, and he's not so sure about Gandalf's fourteenth man.

Teasers: Teaser 1 | Birthday WIPs and Things

BIRTHDAY PLOT BUNNIES

2020

Journey to You- Bilbo made his peace with returning back to the Shire, but starts to become bored and finds himself longing for Thorin. (Post-BOFTA AU)

A Hobbit's Tale: Reclaiming One's Home- Prince Bilbo is willing to do whatever it takes to reclaim the Shire, even team up with a band of dwarven blacksmiths disguised as warriors. (Role Reversal AU)

Second Chance at a Happy Ending- Bilbo and Thorin have no business existing in the same universe as each other, and yet they dream of each other from a time long ago. (Reincarnation AU)

T'was Wit That Slew the Dragon- Bilbo's dream to be a screenwriter quickly changes into a nightmare when they land on Dol Guldur and a handful of cannibalistic locals sacrifice him to a red dragon. (King Kong AU)

2021

Heart of the Mountain- What if Thror wasn’t mad like everyone thought? What if the Arkenstone was truly at fault? Questions Bilbo and Thorin will have to answer together after Bilbo is swallowed by the gem. (Evil Arkenstone AU)

One Last Adventure- When a new group of dwarves appear on his doorstep for his services at the suggestion of their king, Bilbo hopes against hope that means Thorin is out there waiting for him. (Canon Compliant)

The Hoardless Dragon- Thorin has been waiting his whole life for something interesting to happen in Erebor, and when Tharkun arrives with a “dragon expert” to warn of Smaug’s survival he thinks he may have gotten his wish. (Dragon Bilbo AU)

For the Love of My Husband- Bilbo is a thief and a conman who has tricked Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor, to marry him as an escape from a tight spot. (Thief Bilbo)

2022

Fighting for a Dragon's Wish- Bilbo finds himself traversing the galaxy in search of the Silmarils which may have the power to restore the Arkenstone, and along the way learn that he actually has more in common with the Ereborians than he realizes. (Dragonball Z AU)

Together in Erebor- The Fall of Erebor was a tragic tale where all of the line of Durin was wiped out by Azog the Defiler, save for the young Princess Dis...and the rumors of Prince Thorin surviving as well. (Anastasia AU)

Erebor's Monster- Bilbo is investigating ‘Erebor’s Monster’ in secret trying to discovery the nature of all the mysterious disappearances the town has suffered. (Loch Ness AU)

Cheat Code- Fiddling with one of Frodo’s games one night, Bilbo found that every night at 2:17am he is sucked into the video game world of: Quest for Erebor. (Video Game AU)

Another Chance to Fly- Bilbo and Thorin had a chance to show the world of figure skating how a hobbit and dwarf can be the greatest, when a tragic accident lost them a world title and subsequently their careers. (Ice Skating AU)

2023

Oakenshield: Prince or Thief?- There are actually two beings claiming to be ‘Oakenshield’, and then there’s the small problem of them not being aware of the other until Bilbo comes across a Company of dwarves in Mirkwood. (Robin Hood AU)

To Spoon Feed You Comfort- Bilbo was already displeased by his unexpected house guests but when the newest arrival used his Love Spoon to eat from…well none could blame the hobbit for fainting if they knew the circumstances. (Accidental Marriage)

2024

The Raven Prince- Thorin becomes a raven and he must somehow save Bilbo, save his kingdom, and get his father’s blessing before it’s too late. (Swan Princess AU)