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thatbloodymuggle · 2 months

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MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light.

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true.

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy.

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait.

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock.

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown.

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence.

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears.

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less.

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched.

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms.

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace.

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child.

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands.

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would.

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders.

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers.

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile.

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall.

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again.

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands.

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

“I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway.

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer.

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone.

You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again.

“Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his.

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips.

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch.

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely.

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head.

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips.

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up.

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating.

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away.

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach.

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you.

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples.

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you.

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze.

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

“The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck.

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion.

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

“If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice.

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least.

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information.

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier.

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is.

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls.

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows.

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind.

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner.

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris acotar #mastermind

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erosia-rhodes · 9 months

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Speculation on Mizu’s heritage

Blue Eye Samurai on Netflix is one of the best things I’ve seen all year. As I’ve been rewatching it, I couldn’t help but speculate on Mizu’s heritage, and I wanted to share my theory so we can all laugh at how wrong I was in a few years. (I am notoriously bad at guessing plot twists. I was totally wrong about how Wandavision and Loki season 1 would end.)

Spoilers and speculation behind the jump.

Short version: Mizu’s mother was a white woman and her father was the Shogun. The Shogun’s wife, Lady Itoh, put the bounty on Mizu’s life because she was proof that the Shogun broke his own laws.

Who Would Want to Kill a Baby?

We know that there has been a bounty on Mizu’s head since she was a baby. There are only three reasons I can think of for putting a hit out on a child who’s just been born and couldn’t have personally wronged anyone yet:

1) To deny them an inheritance.

2) To eliminate proof of an affair.

3) To eliminate proof of a crime.

The woman that claims to be Mizu’s mother is Japanese, so Mizu assumes her father must be white. But once Fowler reveals that Mizu’s “mother” was actually her maid, it opens up the possibility that Mizu’s mother was white and her father was Japanese.

We know that someone is willing to a pay a lot of money to kill Mizu, but the maid also ran off with enough money to take care of Mizu for several years, so at least one person in this mess is wealthy. We also know that someone still wants Mizu dead when she's an adult because men come to kill her when her husband rats her out, so she’s still a threat to someone else’s interests at that time.

If the Shogun slept with a white woman and fathered a mix-raced child as a result, that would fulfill all three reasons to put a bounty on a baby. Killing her would remove any chance that a bastard might try to blackmail her way into an inheritance, it would remove proof that the Shogun had an affair, and most importantly, it would destroy evidence that he violated his own laws against Western influence by sleeping with a white woman.

But the True Culprit is…

But I don’t think the Shogun put the bounty on Mizu’s life. I think it was the Shogun’s wife, Lady Itoh, for several reasons:

1) Lady Itoh is willing to kill people who learn that her husband broke his own laws.

When the nobles are trying to escape the fire in the finale, Lady Itoh makes her sons lock the door behind them and sentence the other Lords to death because they witnessed the Shogun’s shame, the revelation that he broke his own laws by dealing with Fowler, a white man. She’s demonstrated that she’s willing to kill people to destroy proof of her husband’s violations, so she’d do the same to a mixed-race baby he fathered. It would also explain why Mizu’s maid never claimed the bounty herself; she would have been targeted for death too because she knew about the Shogun’s crime. She probably took whatever money was in the house when the killers came for Mizu, and went on the run as much to save her own life as Mizu's.

2) The woman’s a sadist.

Lady Itoh does everything she can to make Akemi’s life hell once she marries into the family. She saddles her with bitchy attendants and serves her disgusting food at the banquet, and finishes it off with the cooked remains of the bird Akemi tried to free. Then she sends her two more birds the next day, claiming they’re breakfast and lunch. I have no trouble believing this woman would put a hit on a baby!

3) She’s a hardliner against Western influence

After the fire, Lady Itoh orders her sons to destroy 2000 guns which they could have used in the future against their enemies because she’d so fiercely against Western influence. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who came up with the law banning white people and talked her husband into enacting it. That would explain why the Shogun was willing to violate the law, because he didn’t completely believe in it and only enacted it to get his wife off his back.

It Fits a Common Theme of Revenge Stories

Another reason I think Lady Itoh is the ultimate villain is because it fits the common theme that revenge is futile. Revenge usually destroys the person seeking it just as much as anyone they go after. There is a famous quote from Confucius that says, "Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves." The implication is that the second one is for yourself.

If it turns out that Mizu has been going after the only four men in the country who couldn’t be her father, it would demonstrate how misguided revenge quests are. She’s spent her whole life pouring hatred into the wrong mission.

It would also be a painful twist to know that Mizu was in the same room with Lady Itoh in the finale, but she was focused on killing Fowler instead of realizing that her true enemy was fleeing out the back door with everyone else.

How It Will All Sort Out

I predict that Mizu will eventually learn the truth about her parentage and ultimately target Lady Itoh for death, not just for revenge, but so she can permanently remove the bounty on her head and live her life freely as a woman.

Akemi might end up assisting Mizu since Lady Itoh is also her enemy. Akemi will probably spend season two battling Lady Itoh for control of the household, and thus the country. If Akemi can put her husband in place as the Shogun, she could remove the bounty on Mizu's head.

If Taigan ends up working as a castle guard, this might put him in conflict with Mizu and Akemi if they target Lady Itoh since he would be honor bound to protect her.

It will be interesting to see how it all sorts out!

ETA: I misspelled Lady Itoh's name, sorry! (According to the subtitles it's Itoh, not Ito) I think I fixed every instance.

#blue eye samurai #netflix #blue eye samurai spoilers #mizu #taigen #akemi #mizu blue eye samurai #lady itoh

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prickly-paprikash · 9 months

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So there's a theory circulating around that Mizu's parentage is the opposite of what we've come to assume, which I'm sure many have already heard about.

When it was revealed that the "mother" who cares for Mizu was not her biological mother, but a maid who was paid off to hide Mizu away from those who'd kill her. So her mother might still be out there, somewhere. But what if her European heritage was maternal? That instead of being ashamed of having fathered a mixed bastard, one of the white men's wives/lovers decided to have an affair with a man in Japan, resulting in Mizu's birth and the threats to her life.

This could add so much more drama into the mix.

Because then the possibility is that both her parents might still be alive. Her mother returned to Europe, leaving behind money to Mizu's caretaker to ensure her safety. Her father might be in hiding, trying to distance himself away from Mizu and the White Men as to not endanger them all. He might even be plotting his own brand of vengeance.

Some have proposed that Mizu is the daughter of the late Shogun, who died in the flames. That he hid Mizu away due to the shame of his own hypocrisy; the law that bans Europeans from your shores would easily be undermined due to dealing with them in business, as well as having an affair with one of the men's own lovers. I'm a little shaky on this, but it'd be another neat way to complete the tritagonist status of Mizu, Akemi and Taigen.

Akemi is born privileged and now must climb up the hierarchy of the shogunate. Hers is a story of power, politicking, and the poison of court.

Taigen is born from nothing but rises high above his station, only to lose it all and try again. A tale of honor and self-actualisation.

And Mizu is a child born with immense wealth, but cast aside due to her heritage and appearance. Stripped of everything, now she only seeks satisfaction.

A simple, bloody road to vengeance.

Her father could just be a Ronin. A samurai in court. A farmer. Etc.

Whatever the case, it'd be a really sick twist if done correctly. That in the end, the vengeance she believes she's been chasing all this time has been all for nothing. Like painting but with missing colors, preventing her from fully grasping the true artistry of her goal.

Or this could just be a crackpot theory. Idk.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #taigen #akemi #akemi blue eye samurai #abijah fowler #paprikash ramblings

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lopposting · 19 days

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was carlo a bastard stalker? + more thoughts on blue blood's tailcoat

[reposting here cuz my answer was too long and linking is easier]

most of this is lifted from the inhuman one's theory here, also wrote out some of this in an earlier post

@ideas-on-paper

tbh the only thing really going for it is that the blue blood's tailcoat seems to be the "official" outfit of LOP, also just that between the sweepers and bastards I think carlo grew up unlikely to join the sweepers. also, theres another part of the theory that considering how carlo died, if he died in the first wave of the outbreak it might have been from close proximity with the alchemists whom the bastards served. but all of this is just conjecture

(I cropped the post btw) I also feel like the fact that this outfit is the promotional outfit and the one on the cover art is noteworthy. Like, the devs chose this to represent P, and their game, the most. [whether or not that constitutes it being the "canon" outfit is debatable] But also it could be that they just thought it was the drippiest outfit of the game (it is) and it doesnt necessarily mean anything

And then it hit me, symbolism that I feel might make more sense than Carlo being the "bastard"; and it's that P is shown wearing it. symbolically Bastard = illegitimate child (like how P is a "fictitious" child because he is a puppet)

also just noticed this: the outfit is called "blue blood's tailcoat", and blue blood is one of the symptoms of the PD

"Torn Doodle":

It itches. Peel the skin and there's blue blood, Blood. Blood. Pretty cocoon. Blue angel. Joyful appetite. Blue death. What a feast. Deathdeathanddeath. I' m a l i ve. It i t che s

"blue blooded" is also a figure of speech meaning someone born of high status (which is ironic considering these are the "bastards" uniforms). I think you could also see it as "blue-blooded" like a creature of ergo (puppet), like ergo is flowing through P (ergo is stored in the P)

very cool (also the demo "torn doodle" is slightly different from the launch one)

so closing remarks, I'm not sure if Carlo would've been a bastard. the bastards were also associated with the workshop union so maybe carlo would see the workshop as related to his father. He only seems to have disavowed him later in life tho (graduation) so maybe he hadn't switched specialties or whatever. I also don't know how much of Pino's skills were learned or inherited from carlo's time.

#so pino is walking around dressed as a 'bastard' stalker #in a game about a puppeteer father figure #hmm kind of sad and cool #thoughts #speculation #spoilers #lies of p #lies of p spoilers #lies of p carlo #carlo geppetto #there's also a theory that carlo was just literally a bastard child #his lines in korean seem to suggest Geppetto had him in his old age.. hmm

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chaoticace2005 · 6 months

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Reasons Lucifer hates Alastor:

1. Annoyed about him “stealing” Charlie

2. Recognizes what a manipulative bastard he is and feels like the others don’t see it

2b. Able to read people’s true intentions, so knows Alastor is sus.

3. Alastor dissed him when he first arrived at the hotel, and Lucifer hates that

4. He just doesn’t like his vibes

5. Alastor is a prideful being, and Lucifer being the Sin of Pride can’t have someone being more prideful than him.

6. Just doesn’t like overlords

7. Got called a “short motherfucker who nobody likes” by Alastor

8. Alastor does have a past of sorts with Lilith and Lucifer knows it

9. Alastor is actually the one who served Lucifer the divorce papers for Lilith

10. He’s way too tall. It’s ridiculous

11. Alastor is Lilith, in disguise, and part of Lucifer recognizes this and is attracted to them, which feels like a betrayal.

11b. Alternatively, Alastor isn’t Lilith in disguise, but Lucifer still does feel some level of attraction for him.

12. He’s tired of seeing the guy’s face everywhere. He’s already gotten so many commissions with Alastor’s face attached ( @onesidedradiostatic )

13. Vox sent him an explicit drawing of Alastor naked for commissions and now Lucifer can never see the man the same way again.

14. Lucifer’s thing is red. Alastor can’t also be red. Or be redder than him.

15. He had a traumatic experience with a deer as a child and never recovered

16. Theories about Alastor being an angel are true— Lucifer recognizes this (and recognized that Vaggie was one) but sees that Alastor has yet to truly break away from Heaven

17. Lucifer is a stickler for cleanliness and can’t deal with the fact Alastor never bathes

18. Alastor’s scent is just really not good for the Autism

19. Lucifer had a traumatic experience with radios.

20. Lucifer just doesn’t like cannibals/serial killers

21. Heard Alastor speak French. Lucifer hates French people.

22. Alastor had a public campaign about how much ducks SUCK

23. One of Alastor’s many crimes as a human was duck abuse. So he’s permanently on Lucifer’s shitlist.

24. Alastor encouraged people to feed ducks bread, which is actually unhealthy for them.

25. Alastor actually spent the seven years harassing Lucifer and sending him hate mail

26. Lucifer just thinks his ears are stupid

27. Can sense true “evilness” from Al (could be malicious intent or could be that Al is working with Roo (the root of all evil))

28. Mistook Al for “A.I.” which he had heard was threatening creators (Alastor is threatening them, just in a different way.)

29. Alastor lied and betrayed Lucifer in an Among Us game one time and Lucifer never forgave him

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel crack #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon hazbin hotel

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muzansfangs · 3 months

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Bloodstain.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; Urahara Kisuke x f!reader; Urahara Kisuke x original female character (Ran, the mod-soul taking over the reader body, when she is not in the world of the livings); Nnoitra Gilga; mention to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Shuhei Hisagi and Ulquiorra;

Format: multi-chapters story;

Warnings for this chapter: nsfw, oral sex (Kisuke!receiving), cum swallowing, language, jealousy, slightly manipulative behavior, possessive tendencies, struggling with feelings, denial, inappropriate use of the reader body, death threat, abusive behavior and harassment (from Nnoitora), hair pulling, sexual tension;

Plot: Your cohabitation with Sosuke begins. Upon entering your flat, you two are welcomed by your companion’s worst enemy and the coquettish mod-soul supposed to be your substitute during your absence. What you were not expecting, though, was for the two of them to be involved into an intimate intercourse right over your couch and for your new housemate to make you question yourself once again.

N.B: Here we go! Our dear reader is back in the World of the livings, finally… I won’t even apologize for Urahara being a pervert as per usual, lol. The soul we have ‘adopted’ is called ‘Ran’, which should mean ‘Orchid’ in Japanese. Well, her behavior is questionable, I know, but it will be hopefully fun!

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

The moment you stepped back into the World of the livings, you almost felt disoriented. The mastodontic skyscrapers, the cars rushing down the streets and the noise pollution almost gave you a migraine. When you had to spend weeks into the Soul Society, going back to the chaotic city life came along with some struggles. Once the portal closed behind your back, you sighed in defeat. This was literally the beginning of your personal living Hell. Your life was most likely going to be messed up by the man currently standing right next to you.

That man, right. Aizen Sosuke, the bastard who had indirectly deprived you of your social life and freedom. The same man who had deliberately pushed Shuhei to his limits and caused him to stare at you as if you were a madwoman, a traitress. He was always going to be a puppet master, playing with the feelings and life of whomever had been that unfortunate to stand on his path.

After that small argument with Shuhei, you had refused to talk to Sosuke. Saying your goodbyes to your friends, you had entered the Seinkaimon with a plan mapped out in your head: as soon as you were finally back into the World of the livings, you were going straight to Urahara, asking him for the gigai he had prepared for your new housemate. Now, though, staring at the shop sign of Kisuke’s emporium, you realized he was not there. Where was that man, when you needed him the most? Maybe he had gone to check on the rowdy mod-soul taking over your body during your absence: Ran. If that was the case, you had no other choice than going to your flat.

Without uttering a word, you turned around and began to walk in the direction of your apartment, only for Sosuke to finally remind you of his intrusive presence in your life “For how long are you going to pretend I’m not here? That’s rude and immature, don’t you think?” he asked you, his tone of voice flat.

“Immature?— you sarcastically repeated — You are one to talk, considering you purposefully ignored my request of waiting for me to come back and acted like a petulant child. Yeah, Sosuke, thanks for having disrupted any chance I had to reconnect with Shuhei” you resentfully apostrophised him, glad no one could see you two bickering like this.

Sosuke scoffed “Was it really my fault?”.

You glanced at him briefly, arching an eyebrow inquisitively, before focusing back on the street. Your silence spoke volumes and Sosuke knew you wanted to hear his theory.

“I might have become the center of his attention and provoked him, that’s true. However, why did he leave? He could have stayed, talked to you. Isn’t that what couples do? What I am asking you is: are you sure he cares about you?” he seraphically asked you, chest puffed as he watched your certainties waver. There he was, slithering in your head and controlling your emotions.

Were you really that surprised he was back at showing off his asset of mind manipulation? Obviously, not in the slightest. But the worst part of it was that he kind of had a point, even though you were aloof from admitting it out loud, in his presence, you had been hurt by Shuhei’s departure and seemingly total lack of interest in leading on a mature conversation with you. Watching you take Sosuke’s side had clearly broken his heart, but you had given him a valid reason for you to do it. You did not particularly abided the questionable decisions of the Central 46, then again you did not want any problems with them. You were simply doing your job, keeping the special threat at bay and defending Shuhei from him. The position you had been put in was not of your likings. Then why did he leave?

“Shuhei and I are not a couple. — you curtly said, eventually — Hence, keep your unrequired opinions and that slimy tongue of yours far away from me” you consolidated, before pointing to a modern building in front of you. Home. You were finally home, despite your new murderous companion.

Letting your gaze travel up to the third floor, you saw the window of your living room opened. It would have been easier and better sneaking in from there, especially since you had no keys with you.

“That’s my apartment. We can enter from the window” you stated, watching Sosuke already scrutinizing the area around the building. It was located in a optimal position, to be fair. Not too far from the main shopping streets and close to the public park, if you wanted to relax and take some hours off from the hectic city life.

“What’s wrong now? Does his lordship dislike his new residence?” you queried, but you soon realised Sosuke was actually focused on something else.

His brows furrowed, he darted his eyes from the window to you “Do you live with someone else in that apartment? I can sense an atypical reitasu reverberating through the walls”.

“Uhm… Well, you could say I do, but it’s just Ran. She’s a mod-soul. Is that a problem?” you casually asked him, but you omitted some details about her personality. That girl was surely a curious specimen. She was literally a female version of Kon and thus she had caused you quite the embarrassing problems back then.

Sosuke ignored your explanation and flash-stepped up to the window in a blink of an eye. You sighed, having no other choice than following him right away, but the spectacle waiting for you upon entering your flat was surely a sight you would have never expected to behold. Your jaw dropped, no sound coming out of your throat, as you watched in disgust and horror Ran, in your body, knelt between Kisuke’s spread legs. This was a nightmare.

For a split second, you thought Sosuke was using Kyoka Suigetsu on you, but when your eyes flicked towards him to question him, you were genuinely surprised to finally see a rather irked expression plastered over his face. You had been figuring to see his usual cold-indefference etched on his face, but you were terribly wrong.

The assiduos bob of Ran’s head came to an end, when her senses alerted her of your presence. You watched her widen her eyes, hastily pulling away from Kisuke’s length with an obscene ‘pop’, as she wiped her chin, glistening in saliva, with the back of her hand. Kisuke, however, turned his head leisurely towards Sosuke and you. Shamelessly, he let out a soft chuckle, waving the fan in his hand to greet you two. His lambent grey eyes bored into yours, as he stood up and fixed his pants.

“Ah, welcome back, Y/N-chan!” Kisuke beamed, approaching you two.

Sosuke shot him an earnest glare, refusing to even greet him back. His eyes, you noticed, had now settled upon Ran who had timidly stood back up and was trying her best to clean her face up. Her sense of shame was kicking in, finally. You honestly had no idea how to react. What probably gave you the ick was the fact that Ran had given him head while inhabiting your body. Well, this was just absurd.

You cleared your throat, finally locking eyes with Kisuke “What the fuck was that?” you questioned him.

“A blowjob” Sosuke monotonously uttered from beside you, making you roll your eyes.

Kisuke chuckled, hiding his shit-eating grin behind his fan “Oh, such language, Aizen-san! But, well, we have been contacted by Kyoraku a few hours ago. You could say we were killing the time, whilst waiting for you two to come!” he casually replied, glancing behind his back to check on the coquettish mod-soul currently watching the scene in interest.

Hopping down from the windowsill, you dropped your bag onto the floor and folded your arms against your chest. That mod-soul had crossed the line, there was no way in Hell you were allowing her to take over your body ever again. Confined in the plushie you had chosen for her forever, this was going to be her fate from now on. Judging by the way she was keeping her distance, she probably knew what was coming.

“Pardon me? Listen, I don’t really care about what you do and with you, just… — you paused, eyes downcast as you struggled to keep your composure and find the right words to express your consternation — She’s in my body, Kisuke. Do I really need to tell you why I am upset?” you stated, before glancing back up at him. You wanted to believe he felt, at least, a little guilty about it but, even with that fan hiding the lower part of his visage, you were pretty sure he was grinning in amusement.

Sosuke suddenly snatching away Kisuke’s fan from his hand caught you by surprise, his eyes darkening as he proceeded in talking “Your presence is evidently unsolicited. Give me the gigai you have projected and leave” he flatly said, jaw clenched as he did not even bother sparing you a look. His reiatsu was ominously blanketing the entire flat, coaxing you to inhale sharply and lean your back against the windowsill to find back your balance. Was he defending you?

You knew Sosuke could not really stand the sight of the shop-keeper, but there was not just unadultered annoyance for the past events in his voice. It sounded like there was something personal involved in that, in the way he shoved Kisuke’s fan back against the other man’s chest and glared down at him.

Maybe you were just seeing too much into it. Or maybe Sosuke was struggling to keep his emotions on check, as he always did. Either way, you were in no mood to talk to Kisuke any longer and your housemate’s outburst was strangely appreciated and supported by the offended part of you that shot a blank stare at the former Captain of the Gotei 13.

“I will probably regret saying it later on, but I have to agree with Sosuke. Let’s get this over with, Kisuke” you gingerly agreed with the brunette, before Ran jogged up to Kisuke and wrapped her arms around him, almost protectively, clinging onto the man for dear life.

And only then you caught a glimpse of Sosuke’s face, sternly witnessing to the scene unfolding before your eyes with a rather displeased expression on his face. Was it Ran the problem? Was he upset because Kisuke had accepted the mod-soul’s avances, while she was inhabiting your body? Oh, you could say so, the same glint of possessiviness you had spotted in his eyes yesterday night and early in the morning was back in his splendid irides. This felt awkwardly familiar. You remembered now some other occasions in which he had displayed latent intolerance at your interactions with other men. There was only one of the Espada he trusted around you and it was Ulquiorra. Grimmjow was not allowed to be around you, not after he had caught him tracking down your scent through the corridors of Las Noches, not after you had showed him empathy after he had lost his arm.

He could not let you alone for a second back then. Looking back at it, you were glad he always had your back. More than once, you asked yourself what would have happened to you, if he had not been there to stop Nnoitora from cornering you in a isolated area of the castle.

It was late at night in Las Noches. Looking for your sword, when most of the inhabitants of the palace were asleep, was easier than venturing through the corridors and rooms in the daylight. Deep down, you knew where your zanpakuto was. Still, you were too frightened by the idea of sneaking into that room, into ‘his’ room. Aizen Sosuke would have never trusted anyone to keep your blade but himself. If you wanted your blade back, you had to walk right his den. Walking into his private quarters, though, would have only meant giving him the occasion to get closer to you, to break down the fragile, crumbly wall you had tried to build between you two. You would have never admitted it out loud, not even to yourself, but there was something about him that made you feel free, completely capable of making mistakes and be yourself and not like you felt around the others, as if you were a microscopic ant under a magnifying glass for people to point out your flaws.

You liked him, oh you did, and this was a huge problem, the main reason why you were currently in denial.

You were so lost into the depths of your mind that you barely registered a slender figure approaching you with a Mephistophelian grin promising nothing but troubles and sufferings.

“Ah, what’s Aizen’s pet doing out of her cage?” Nnoitora asked you, tilting his head to the side as his eye scrutinized your body in a way that made your skin crawl. It was not the first time he did that, but the last time he had tried something Sosuke was there to stop him. His presence alone was enough to prevent any of the Hollows to display hostility and inappropriate gestures to you. How pathetic were you for wishing your captor was there to save you?

“I was just going back to my room” you flatly replied, twirling around hastily and making your way back to your bedroom.

It was pretty obvious you were not going to be safe there, not as you felt Nnoitra’s hand latch onto the column of your throat and pulling you back against him. Your eyes grew round, whilst you wriggled in his grasp, your hands attempting to create a barrier from his hand and your neck to let you breathe properly. Maybe, for the first time ever, you felt real fear. Was it not funny how you never felt such a baleful feeling around Sosuke, the worst man living in Hueco Mundo?

“Nnoitra, let me go” you hissed, scrunching your nose up in disgust when his free hand skimmed down the bare skin of your stomach, exposed for the design of your uniform.

The Espada at your back scoffed, his pointy nose gliding down your cheek, his tongue licking a stripe of your skin “Why would I do that? Hasn’t Lord Aizen taught you to be a good pet?” he mocked you, his grip on your neck tightening significantly.

Your vision became dotted, your breath cut short, as your strength began to leave your body. A victim of Nnoitora’s abuses was definitely a pitiful way to go down, or at least it would have been so, for a baritone voice piercing your ears saved your life. There, he was there to save you.

“Haven’t I taught you to keep your distance from her?” Aizen asked calmly, whilst the Espada dropped you instantly onto the floor.

You landed onto the ground on your hands and knees, panting, eyes watering in panic as you bit your tongue not to thank him. You oughted him your life, but being in debt with the very man you were supposed to kill was a stain on your moral code. Your pride was crumbling and you felt so embarrassed that you did not even realise that the Espada had left you alone with Sosuke in the desert corridor.

You did not realise it, until his hand cupped your cheek and you found him knelt in front of you, inspecting your body in search for possible injuries.

“Are you hurt?” he asked you, his thumb grazing your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine.

Back in your room, you had to flee from there and lock yourself in your stupid room.

“No” you shortly whispered, staring deeply into his caramel brown eyes.

“What were you doing out of your room alone?”.

“I could not sleep”.

“Liar”.

You sighed, grasping his wrist to lower his hand from your face, your eyes averting from him to stare at the void at his back “It’s not your business, I just want to go back to my quarters now ”.

Sosuke did not seem to protest, not as he helped you back on your feet and silently led you to your room. His presence was not suffocating, not at all, but the words leaving his mouth before he wished you a good rest would have haunted you for days.

“I would not be pleased, if something happened to you”.

To pull you back from your small tour in the memories you had made in Las Noches was the mod-soul’s voice, ringing out in the living room as she protested to your request of making Kisuke leave.

“He’s not leaving! What is it, you go to the Soul Society and come back as a holier-than-thou bitch? It’s only fair I have my fun too!” Ran chirped out, narrowing her eyes as Kisuke tried to get free from her overly affectionate embrace.

If only she knew what you had been up to in the Soul Society, she would have definitely not said such a thing. With your eye twitching, you walked up to her and tangled your fingers in her hair, yanking her back towards you. Solving one problem at the time starting from her was the best decision ever and you were currently running out of patience.

Ran winced, hands flying up to try and set herself free from your grip, but you were faster than her “Listen up, you randy minx, if you like Kisuke that much I’ll gladly kick you out of my house as well. Bye and have fun with him!” you snarled, elbowing her on the stomach to let the small green pill pop out of your body. More than them leaving your house, you justed needed some peace.

Ran gagged, as the pill popped out of her mouth, the trajectory leading to Sosuke that quickly grasped it and stared in disdain at the small sphere in his hand. For a second, you got distracted, fearing he was going to destroy it and you let your now lifeless body onto the floor carelessly. It was true that you had gotten mad at Ran, but you did not wish for her to be eradicated from this world. Deep down, you cared about her, enough to gulp down forcefully and extending your hand towards him.

“Nice catch… Hand me Ran back, please” you stated politely.

Sosuke huffed “All it would take to get rid of this insignificant prick would be a mere snap of my fingers. — he reasoned, flicking his gaze up to look at you — Are you sure you want her back?” he inquired, making you regret having hit her all of a sudden and out of irritation.

“Hey, Ran isn’t a prick! She’s my creation and a being!” Kisuke interjected, stomping his foot as he took a step towards Sosuke, his tone actually serious after a long while.

“Is that what you do for a living now? — Sosuke sarcastically asked him, his gaze now transfixed on the shop-keeper — Creating girls for you to exploit?” he provoked him, but you were quick to stop Kisuke from sprinting towards him. Your arms were tightly wrapped around the man who had trained you, now your boss at the shop, a great friend, and your eyes were practically pleading him not to let things escalate.

Kisuke scoffed, grey eyes locking with yours “I will kill him for real this time” he asserted, only for you to shake your head and bring him back on Earth.

“You perfectly know it is impossible to do it”.

Sosuke watched you two almost disinterested in your conversation, rolling the pill between his fingers whilst exploring your flat. He had, in fact, noticed the gigai in the corridor. Albeit he was not a fan of this whole plan of him living in the World of the livings, he could at least enjoy some fresh air in a real body. Ignoring you two, he did not waste any precious time in possessing the gigai.

Catching a glimpse of what he was doing, you gawked and blinked a couple of times in curiosity “What… Oh, you found it” you noted, hearing Kisuke huff and fold his arms against his chest.

“It’s a regular gigai. You will experience all human needs: eating, sleeping, biological functions and impulses… — Kisuke explained, ambling towards the couch to grasp the tiger plushie you usually let Ran inhabiting — Hopefully, it will contain most of your reiatsu. As you can see, you have no cuffs, just the eye-patch. Wear it outside this flat, or I will literally come to stress the hell out of you” he admonished the brunette, before roughly snatching the pill from Sosuke’s hand and walking casually towards the front door. The way Kisuke had said ‘hopefully’ did not go unnoticed to you. Probably, the gigai was not ultimated. Shivers ran down your spine at the thought of Sosuke being a practical nuclear bomb.

Sosuke quirked his eyebrow up, running his fingers through his hair, getting comfortable in his new arrangement “Leave” he merely stated, making you roll your eyes, as you accompanied Kisuke to the exit.

Peace, the incoming peace was the only thing prompting you to collaborate. You were going to have a long talk with Sosuke, once alone, but nothing you could not deal with. After all, he could be reasonable, if he wanted. Well, not with everyone but with you he did. That weird way of getting along never ceased to amaze you.

Opening the door, you waved your hand at Kisuke “See you at work tomorrow, I guess” you said, only for Kisuke to shake his head and motion at the man at your back, leaning against the wall with an unreadable face. He always shut everyone out of his head. It was frustrating. You wanted to know what was going on inside his head, for once.

“Take a week to settle down with mister ‘I-am-a-god-kiss-my-ass’. You must be tired” Kisuke’s fatherly tone surprised you, but you gave up. No, you would have not passed off a chance to take some time for yourself and establish some rules for your new housemate.

“Thanks” you smiled weakly, watching Kisuke wink at you and leave your flat with his usual calm demeanor.

You did not wait for him to disappear from your sight: you walked back home, closing the door behind you and walking to the kitchen in a desperate need of a glass of water. Your back was facing the entrance, as you reached your hand up to the cupboard to grasp a glass.

You never got to reach it, though, not as you felt Sosuke’s fingers tangle in your hair and straining your neck back to face him. It was not a brutal grip, it was firm yet gentle. His breath was warm against your earlobe. Caged between the counter and his body, you did not move an inch, only curling your hands around the edge of the forniture. This could not go on. Was he going to jump on you at any given occasion?

“Sosuke—” you warned him, voice too soft for your own likings, but he hushed you.

“Go back into your body”.

“What—”.

“I don’t like to repeat myself” Sosuke demanded, before delicately nudging you towards the living room, his grip on your hair now gone completely. You had no idea of what he wanted, or why, but you just followed his instructions, slowly entering back into your real body, that was lying onto the floor at his feet. It was just for your sake, not to hear him bitching around any longer. This was what you told yourself.

Staring up at him from this position, you blinked up at Sosuke. You tried to understand what he wanted, the reason behind such a request, and you sat up, but the way he eagerly knelt next to you to grasp your jaw left you startled.

“What’s your deal now? We have tons of shit to do, we cannot waste our time like that” you protested, only for Sosuke to lean his face closer to yours and causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You expected a kiss, foolishly, a kiss that never came, but you ended up being asked a question that left you speechless.

His thumb played with your bottom lip, the pad running over it as he spoke “I need you to tell me if you taste his cum in your mouth”.

You stared at him with wide eyes, your mouth hanging open “Sosuke, what the fuck—”.

He cut you off, once again, getting on your nerves as he clamped your mouth shut forcefully “Focus on what you taste on your tongue” he insisted, making your blood boil in your veins. You did not even want to think about what Kisuke and Ran had been up to and now here he was, asking you to concentrate to detect the slightest taste of Kisuke’s release in your mouth.

You scoffed, fist clenching, while you tried to punch him straight on the nose. His large hand engulfing it, though, made you halt and you bristled in annoyance. He did not even have the rights to ask you about such a thing, let alone possibly feeling pissed about it.

“You are sick, you know that?” you bitterly fired back, only to suddenly realise you actually felt a sour taste in the back of your throat. Your brows furrowed, nose scrunching up as you inhaled sharply through your nose. Well, how ironic it was Kisuke had really come down Ran’s throat, while in your body? Awesome!

You stood up abruptly, Sosuke’s jaw clenching, obviously putting the pieces together “Wash your teeth. I don’t want to smell that stench in your mouth” he coldly asserted, only for you to turn around again and jab your finger at him.

“Hey, that’s my life, my body, my choices. I already made it painly clear that I did not appreciate what’s happened. I don’t need you to boss me around, or defend me” you blurted out, heart thrumming against your ribcage so violently you thought you were going to pass out. Genuinely frustrated, full of rage, mostly irritation for your own feelings, for the things you wished had never happened and the ones you actually would have loved to become true, you cussed under your back.

You hated how he acted like your boyfriend at times, how a friend would, and how possessive he had grown to be through the time you spent together. Your standards had been molded on him, on what he had let you see that one time you really met him before you were even dragged to the Soul Society and for the good man he had let you believe he was.

“You only ever blame everything on me, do you? Is that because it’s easier to hate me than hating your own feelings?” he dispassionately replied, not moving an inch from where he was standing.

If a blade had went clean through your heart, it would have hurt less than his words. Why did he always have to be right? Why did he read you so easily, bringing out all of your fears and thoughts you pushed in the back of your mind?

Your mouth felt like chalk. Standing a few feet away from him, you bit the insides of your cheeks not to lash out and show more vulnerability to the very man who had made mind control his job.

“I won’t stand here and listen to you give me a sermon about feelings, when you can’t even cope with yours” you mumbled, staggering towards the bathroom before tears could spill out from your eyes.

“I heard you liked reading. That’s my private collection. You can come here whenever you want” Sosuke said, standing right beside you in the middle of a large library. Glass bookcases were outlined all around you two, ladders pushed against each of them, crystal chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling above your heads.

You would have never imagined Las Noches hid such a magnificent room within its walls. You were genuinely in awe, your eyes wandering in every angle of the room to explore it. Who had told him you enjoyed reading? Probably, just like he had done with your brother, he had studied each and every move of yours.

“Do you come here often?” you asked him, hand gliding over the smooth surface of a desk, not a grain of dust coated your fingers. He probably sent his servants to clean up the place regularly. A man of power and control who loved stability would have never let his posessions decay.

“Quite often, yes” he replied promptly, keeping a comfortable distance between you two, albeit his eyes never left your frame. He had learned everything about you. Your body language, your reactions to certain provocations, your likings even.

You sighed, turning around to face him “Why would I come here, risking to bump into you then?” quirking your eyebrow up expectantly. After all, you would have rather avoided meeting him more than it was stri ctly necessary. While reading a novel could provide you a form of escapism, his presence would have not helped you relax.

Sosuke faintly smiled, a rare one, before looking straight at an undefined point ahead of him “Because humans make sacrifices for love. I believe you would be persistent enough to keep on reading, if I supposedly ruined your moment of peace with my presence”.

Smart man. He always knew exactly what to do and say.

You straightened your back, resting the small of your back against the edge of the desk “And what do you know about love? You are the last person I expect to talk about human passions. If you can’t feel it, you can’t describe it”.

“Pretty arrogant assertion, Y/N. Why would you say my knowledge of feelings doesn’t come from experience?” he asked you in return, hands behind his back as if he was having just a common conversation.

“Because you can’t feel love. You never did, you never will and surely you don’t feel it now. — you confidently replied, eyes locked with his whilst he listened to you in interest — Your data are the product of the empiric observations of people you met, or novels you have read” you bitterly punctuated.

Maybe you wished to be correct. You really did, but Sosuke never told you if you were right, nor if you were wrong. He simply smiled again, closing his eyes for a few seconds before leaving you there, alone in one of his favorite places, a place he never allowed people to explore.

In the end, you were brilliant, but not observant.

To bring you back to reality was the doorbell ringing. Who could it be now? Considering Kisuke had left and your father did not even knoq you were back yet, you found yourself sprinting out of the bathroom in a rush. You could not risk Sosuke messing up your life by interacting with whomever was requiring your presence. By the time you reached the front door, though, you felt your stomach churn. Sosuke had already opened the door and was apparently striking up a cordial conversation with your obnoxious neighbour who loved gossip. Of course she had to barge in today.

“Mrs. Watanabe, it’s good to see you” you stated, approaching Sosuke, who made space for you to stand next to him on the threshold. Now, the real question was: what the Hell did Sosuke tell her?

“There she is. — the woman piped out, displaying a fake smile that made you want to headbutt her — As I was saying to this handsome man, I did not mean to interrupt anything, but I wanted to ask you if you could be a dear and watch over my daughter tomorrow. I have important matters to take care of and I won’t be home until late in the evening” the woman said, eyeing you suspiciously.

The urge to escape into the Soul Society was quite strong as you suppressed a big ‘go fuck yourself’ threatening to leave your mouth. Instead, you smiled at her and nodded your head “Yes, of course. I’ll be glad to help a fellow woman” you stated, flinching as she bursted out laughing in her typical enervating high-pitched tone that you loathed oh so much.

“Oh, thanks, dear! You know, with the amount of boys I’ve seen come and go from your flat the past few weeks, I thought you were way too busy and tired to watch over Aoi!” the hag chortled, your eye twitching as you scoffed.

Ran. What the Hell had that mod-soul done?

It was time for Sosuke to step in, however, as he cleared his throat “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but my girlfriend and I are quite busy now. I have recently decided to move in her flat and we have to unbox my stuff” Sosuke smoothly interjected, watching the way the woman in front of you gaped at the unexpected news.

My girlfriend and I. My girlfriend and I.

It took you way too long to react and let his words sink in, his arm was already enveloping your waist, pulling you against his chest. He had really screwed up this time. You wanted to protest, you really did, but, when you opened your mouth and no words came out of it, all you could do was watching in horror the way he waved his hand at the woman and the door closed with a click. Panic. You were absolutely going to explode right on that spot as you shoved him off of you roughly, hand gripping the collar of his white shirt to make him lean down at your level.

“I had fucking told you not to interfer with my life. What the Hell did you just do?” you hissed through gritted teeth, whilst he smiled down at you in his own special way. In the way that had made you blush, the first time you met.

Sosuke hummed “She implied you were a whore. I saved your reputation” he defended himself, before grasping your wrist delicately and nudging you towards the wall.

Your back flattened against it, his hands pinning yours above your head as he let his nose brush against yours “Unless you would like to feed her fantasy and let her spread the news you are, indeed, a cheap whore. In that case, I can fuck you hard enough to make your throat burn for the screams you will let out” he whispered, before stepping back all of a sudden and leaving you slump down onto the floor with your cheeks on fire and your breath labored.

Shunsui Kyoraku was going to be responsible for your death, for Sosuke was gradually poisoning you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Thanks to everyone who is invested in this story! Your support is greatly appreciated, really. Getting down to business, what do you think of Urahara and Ran? I know she was technically in our body, but it was necessary in order to get a certain reaction from our beloved special threat, oops! I will probably give Ran a proper body, beside the plushie form ✨ Also, seeing the reader dealing with a kid will give Sosuke ideas. Trust me.

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @pseudowho @seireiteihellbutterfly @onyxino @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @noirfan12 @velaenaa

#aizen sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen x reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut #kisuke urahara x reader #urahara kisuke smut #ichigo kurosaki x reader #grimmjow x reader #kyoraku shunsui x reader

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evagreen-stories · 3 months

Text

Mother’s madness | (Aemond x f!lowborn!reader) (1/?)

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bedslave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

Warnings: mentions of violence, light angst (kinda?), canon typical misogyny, canon typical behaviour, dark!aemond, abusive!aemond, forced relationship, forced impregnantion, canon typical classicism, mentions of assault, stockholm syndrom (kind of), non-canon storyline

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

masterlist part 2 >

You sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers as you stared into the lit fire. The room was silent apart from the crackling of the fire and you felt his stare burn into you. It felt as though a heavy burden lay atop your head, suffocating you with every moment made to spend in his presence.

You had no idea how, for you were nothing but a lowborn bastard fathered by some bright haired high-born, working as a servant in the castle of Harrenhal. Young, mere 16 years of age, plain features, you had never thought yourself to be anything special, though it seems there was at least one person that would disagree with that.

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen.

Somehow, in all the panic and madness that was his seize of the city, you had caught his eye.

It had all happened so fast. Dragged into his chambers by his guards you had little time to process what was happening. He was already on top of you when you finally understood what now was your fate. Claimed as his spoil of war and made his bedslave, he had taken your maidenhead with force that night, in the same ruthless manner he would many nights after that.

Locked in his chambers there was little room for escape and after only three turns of the moon, a master had proclaimed you to be with child, shortly after that he had confirmed you to be carrying twins.

You had asked him for moontea more than once, yet were always denied. You were his to do with as he pleased and he was set on you having a child of his.

You often wondered why. You were busy tending to him all day and night, from fulfilling his every desire to bathing him and oiling his hair. Yet, in his many times of absence whenever he was out fighting on the battlefield, you had nothing else to do but think.

Eventually, you had settled on your own theory; He was married to Floris Baratheon, they had been wed two years before the war first started. Now, their fourth year of marriage approached, and after much struggle she brought forth only two daughters. You had heard all the stories about her and Aemond, of countless miscarriages, about the daughter that died not even a week after her birth, leaving him with only one daughter said to be equally as small and weak as her sisters, though still alive by some miracle of the gods.

The rumours about their misfortune had travelled fast and far, many of those that opposed him and his brother's reign had claimed he been accursed, even before he slayed his own kin. She was said to be with child now as well, though it was to be seen whether this one would survive his curse or not.

As for your own detriment, you were sure you were a mere experiment of his, an attempt to figure out if he was the cause of the unfruitfulness of his marriage or his wife was. A desperate wish of his to try and prove the rumours wrong.

You didn't know if it was luck or a curse of your own that his seed had taken immediately.

Your womb had filled with not one but two of his children and you had encountered no issues in carrying them so far. Because of this it was little surprise he had taken you back to the Red Keep with him when he was summoned back to King's Landing.

There, neither his wife nor his mother were impressed with his choices. your mere presence was despised by everyone but him. Quickly you had learned to appreciate being confined to his chambers and to his company alone, as well as the company of the two babes growing in you.

He was a violent man, quick to anger and impatient, yet as your belly had started to swell with his children he seemed more at ease, being calm and almost affectionate so long you did not disobey or disappoint him.

Quickly adapting, you had learned to submit to all his whims and wills, even if it hurt at times, for you knew there was greater hurt waiting if you didn't.

There was nothing that upset him more than any form of rejection or disrespect from you.

The weeks went by quickly, you had been with child for almost seven moons now, the presence of two made your stomach larger and rounder than you'd ever expected to be, even though two moons were still to come.

As you’re lost deep in thought his deep voice brings you back to reality.

“Stop sulking like that, you will ruin your pretty face.”

Ungrateful wench. Look at me when I’m talking to you.

Hearing his voice you turn to face him quickly, seeing him sitting at his desk and eyeing you with a slight glare. Lowering your head for a moment in an apologetic gesture you reply, “I apologise, my price.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation. “You’re making that face again. Do you wish for another reminder of your place?” He huffs, taking a long sip from his cup as his eye never leaves your expression.

“Please don’t, my prince. I’m deeply sorry.” You answer quickly, trying to hide the small tremble in your voice.

He gets up from his chair and walks over to you, standing in front of you and bringing his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “Then put on a pretty smile for me. You know the rules.”

You pull your lips into a small smile that does little to hide the gloominess in your eyes. He doesn't care much for that though, so long you do as he commands.

“Good. That’s my good girl, that’s what I want to see from you.” He praises and pats your head before walking back to his desk, gesturing you to follow he says, “Come here to me, sweet doll.”

You follow suit, grunting slightly as you pull all three of you up from the bed and waddle over to him, standing next to him on his chair and waiting for further instructions.

“Bend over.” He commands, tapping the desk right in front of you with a cruel smirk. “I want to see where I hit you the hardest last time.”

Swallowing nervously you do as told, hiking up your dress to reveal your bare skin underneath and bending over the table as far as your swollen belly allows you to. The large bruises on your right buttock glow brightly against your pale skin, the dim candlelight making the purple look more vibrant than usual.

“Mh. Good.” You can hear his voice and flinch slight when you feel his cold hand make contact with your flesh, roaming over your marked body in a firm yet gentle manner. “And can you remember why I did this?” His voice was as cold as his hand, no emotion present as he inspects the aftermath of your last punishment closer.

“Because I didn’t serve you well enough, my prince.”

“Correct.” A sudden slap lands right on the bruise, the pain flaring up again making you gasp. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson because if I have to do it again you really won’t like it.”

Flinching and groaning at another slap you answer quickly. “I have, my prince.”

“Good.” He was pleased with your submission. His hand leaves your flesh as he tells you, “Fix your dress. I will send you out to the city to collect something for me.”

He rummages through a drawer of his desk as you take a step back, letting go of your dress and letting it fall down to your feet again. He pulls out a piece of parchment that already has mysterious words written on it that you can't understand and scribbles an address at the foot of it. He hands you a pouch full of coin. “Go and be quick about it. Take the guards with you, and give me those back as soon as you return.” He said, his long digit tapping the bag of coins in your hand.

“It is late, my prince. Are any shops still open at this time of night?” You wonder out loud, genuinely confused.

It was nothing new for him to send you out to run errands. It was a welcome change from your duties as bedslave and personal maid, as you were still responsible for all his comforts. From bathing him and brushing his hair, to carrying his children to satisfy all his desires. He kept you in his chambers for this very purpose, he preferred your soft tender hands over those of anyone else, even if it meant summoning the wrath of his wife and others. Running errands for him was also the only other time you got to leave the suffocating castle walls.

In theory you were free to roam the gardens and courtyard, yet the disgusted looks and insults from the ladies there had you staying in his chambers at all times.

“Don’t question me. I want it now. Do as I say and leave at once.” His voice is laced with irritation.

Is she insolent or plain stupid?

You mumble an apology and bow, grabbing a cloak and hurrying out the room before you manage to mess up again.

As much as you already loved your children still growing in your belly, in the most recent days you've felt as though they depleted your mind and made you more prone to upsetting your master.

I can’t upset him. I need to do good.

You gathered two guards to keep you safe as you made your way down into the city, down the streets and alleyways, the address he gave you was far from the castle, close to Flea Bottom.

Many people stared at you as you made your way through the streets. The night folk were out, it was rare to see a pregnant woman amongst them, even less common for one to be accompanied by royal guards.

You arrived in a small alleyway at last, an unseemingly shop with a sign above the door, you couldn't make out the words in the darkness, only make out a few herbs painted onto the wooden slap that made the sign.

As you enter a bell announces your entry. “Good evening.” You say into the small and empty shop littered with different containers and brown bottles, a few tools hanging on the walls, the smell of all kinds of herbs mixing in the air and making your head spin soon enough.

“Good evening,” the hoarse voice of an elderly woman replies as she enters the room through a curtain blocking off the other parts of the building. “Can i help you?”

“Yes. I am here to pick something up for Prince Aemond.”

She looks you up and down, taking a deep breath as an expression of suspicion drapes over her previously welcoming one. “Really now? And what exactly has our prince sent you to collect?”

“He did not say.” You answer, reaching into the pocket of your cloak to retrieve both the parchment and coin. “But he gave me this note and the coin to pay for it.”

You had notices strange words written over the address, words you could not understand, yet as this woman takes the note from you it appears she knows their meaning as she surries off behind the curtain she came from and brings back a small vial of strange liquid as well as a packet wrapped in paper, tied close with a string.

“Here, my dear.” she hands them over to you. “Make sure you take caution on your way back to the palace. You dont want anything… unfortunate to happen to you in the city this late at night.”

“I will, thank you. How much do you get?” You reply as you open the pouch, ready to pay.

“No need for coin, my lady. Its on the house - for our pince’s sake.'' She smiles kindly, bowing slightly as she does.

You mirror her smile, bowing instinctively in return as you had learned to do in the Red Keep - bowing a hundred times too often was better than bowing once too little, you had understood that quickly.

“That is very kind of you, ma’m. I shall inform the prince about your generosity.” Packing away everything into various pockets in your cloak you bid goodbye, only to be stopped by the sound of her voice as you're about to reach the door.

“I can’t help but notice you are with child. If you are to give birth in the Red Keep, I advise you to be careful.”

Her words make you stop dead in your tracks, turning around slowly to look at her with a frown on your face. “I… I’m sorry?”

“The Red Keep is a dangerous place for women, especially mothers and their small children. You’re having twins, you need be extra cautious.” She said as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if she didn't just say one of the most shocking things you’ve ever heard.

How does she know this?

“I-” You freeze in shock as you replay her words in you mind, “H-How do you know i’m expecting twins? And… what do I need to be cautious about?”

She smiles back, a smile filled not with innocence but with wisdom and knowledge, one that must’ve witnessed the wicked ways of this world on maany occasions. “I have seen many women passing through my shop, my dear.” She gestures around to all the varying herbs and potions before continuing “I know when a woman is pregnant and can see when she is carrying twins. As for you needing to be cautious… there are many strange things happening in the Red Keep. Beware, no one there is your friend. The walls have eyes and ears. Do not trust anyone, not the maesters, either.”

“The maesters? Why not them? Are they not there to help me?” Fear creeps up within you, your hand rising to rest on your belly in a protective manner.

“The maesters are servants of the crown and no one in the crown's service can be trusted. They have their own agenda as well.” She says with confidence, stating it as fact rather than an opinion. She steps out from behind the counter, approaching you slowly. “There is much you don't know, my dear, I only wish to warn you. I’m worried for the lives of your children.”

“Can you-” You begin but are interrupted by the door swinging open. The guards have waited long enough and demand your return to the palace.

You sigh in defeat, knowing that defying the guards is something Aemond will be informed of. Turning to face the elderly lady you bid goodbye. “I apologise. Have a good night, ma’m.”

She simply smiles warmly. “May the gods protect you.” and watches as you leave.

You make your way back to the palace, her words running through your head like a mantra as you try to figure out the meaning of them.

You need to stop often, taking breaks to you catch your breath.

Stupid hills. Stupid steps.

It must be well in the night now, perhaps even early in the first morning hours, when you finally arrive back in the palace. You open the door to your shared chambers carefully, making sure not to wake the prince. Slipping inside carefully you make no noise in the barely lit room, only letting out a small squeal when you turn around and see him sit at his desk still, a book spread out in front of him as a single candle by his right side illuminates the pages.

“You’re still awake, my prince.” Your voice is but a mere whisper as you start fidgeting with your fingers.

He is dressed in his nightwear and doesn't even bother to look up from his book as he answers, “You took your time.” His voice is laced with annoyance and anger. It's now he looks up at you, studying your frame up and down before demanding, “Stand in front of me.”

You walk over to him, feeling the need to explain yourself as you do so. “I apologise, my prince. The walk back uphill and all the stairs have gotten more difficult with the two babes growing inside of me. I was in need of a few breaks.”

He nods, waiting for you to stand right in front of you. He takes a deep breath as if to calm himself and places a hand on your belly, his palm right over the spot one of the babes always liked to kick into. “You are indeed getting rather large. What have you brought me?”

You look at his hand on your belly. It's a gesture that would be sweet between husband and wife, yet you were not that. Not anywhere close. His growing fascination with your bump always made your blood run cold for some reason. You empty your pockets, placing all of the contents on the desk in front of him.

“The coin back… and these two things.”

He didn't take his hand off your bump as he watched your movements and inspected the items with his eye.

His free hand then travels to your hip, pulling you closer to stand between his legs as he keeps his other hand roaming your belly, looking up at you and studying your tired expression.

After a while he instructs you, his voice now much calmer and seeming almost content as he speaks, “Go sit on the bed. Don’t speak another word unless I say otherwise.”

You nod silently and walk over to the bed, sitting down and relishing the feeling of relief that overwhelms you when the weight of three is finally lifted off your aching feet.

Watching him as he inspects the package and vile you see him smell all of it, grimacing at the smell of what must be a potion of sorts. You wondered what it smelled like but you knew better than to ask questions. He counts the coins, yet does not comment on them all still there. You want to tell him about the nice lady, but you know better than to disobey his command to stay silent.

He packed it all away, into the same drawer he had taken out the coins in the first place, then looks back up at you. He leans back into his chair, one hand resting on his leg as the other reaches for the cup next to him. “Take off your dress.” He orders and keeps taking the last few sips from the wine.

You do as told quickly, getting up from the bed to undo the straps that hold the dress in place and let it fall open, taking it off and placing it over a chair close to the bed before taking a seat again.

This was far from unusual, you knew his antics by now.

He preferred to play with his prey before devouring it.

Watching you intently he smiles as soon as the first patches of bare skin are revealed. He would never grow tired of ordering you around, too exhilarating was the power he held over you.

As a man, as a prince nonetheless.

No one could stop him.

Not his mother, not his wife, not the gods - and especially, not you.

He gets up and walks over to you, his eye roaming over every curve of your gravid body. Your belly grew larger with his children every day, your breasts too were round and swollen.

They must hurt, he thought to himself from time to time, but until the milk would finally start to flow there was nothing he could do to provide relief. He had tried more than once already, ever the impatient man he was, though it seemed not to be the time for it yet.

His hand placed on your arm he firmly nudges you back and to your side. Lying there like this, on your side with your legs pulled onto the mattress, gave him easy access to indulge in you while also giving him a good view of the body he so worshipped. It was one of the very few positions in which he could take his sweet time without you struggling to breathe under the weight of his children pushing into you.

He starts taking off his clothes when he strikes up conversation. It was odd, the calmer he took you, the more need for talk he seemed to have. Though the frequency in which he did this nowadays did make it normal to some degree.

“Tell me your fears. What worries you most about the coming birth?”

“Huh?”

Taken aback by his question, you struggle to find an answer. After many moments of tense silence, purely filled with the sounds of his clothes tossed away, you eventually reply.

“I… I suppose dying…”

It sounded more like a guess than an answer, Truthfully, you had never though of this yourself.

Too hopeful that this birth could finally set you free from him, you had never nurtured any negative thoughts or critical questions about pregnancy or birth.

“Dying?” He seemed surprised. His hands worked on you with practised routine, pulling your body closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your legs forward to make space for him.

He presses his bare manhood against the flesh of your core as he leans forward, hands roaming all over your stomach and breasts, firmly grabbing and playing with the nubs on them as if to check again for any precious liquid.

“I take it you don’t worry about the lives of my children then. Only for yourself?”

“Of course I do!” You reply, voice a bit firmer now than before, feeling an immediate swell of anger and fear bubble deep inside you. Weird, that never happens. “I just… I think if I'm cold in my grave I can no longer worry about them at all. So, first should be the worry about my own life. Then, if I am to live through the birth, I can worry about them.”

“Interesting…” He says as he now turns his attention to his cock, taking it in his hand and running it through your folds several times. He was never a man that took much time to prepare you, he felt little need to do so.

Your body responded within seconds of knowing what was about to happen, providing the necessary slick for him either way. On times he took you by surprise and pushed in without notice, it too had taken mere moments for your cunt to embrace and welcome him.

All mine. Responding just how she should.

“Then just trust me.” He says, grunting and huffing softly as he buries himself in the comfort of your walls, gripping onto him in familiar tightness. “You’ll see there will be little to worry about, sweet thing. Just relax. I’d hate to have you dead, too. You’d be of little use in a cold grave for both my children and me.”

Rutting into you at an increasing pace he is soon moaning and groaning with each thrust until he has rid himself of all his spend, grinding it into the deepest parts of you with deep growls and laboured breaths as his own body collapses forward onto yours, his forehead resting on your temple as his hot breath on your skin sends gooseflesh down your body.

He could not describe it, there was no reasonable explanation for it, but it was you who he had always taken the most pleasure from. No whore or his wife could compare. You had brought him a sense of comfort he would find nowhere else.

While pleasure wasn’t guaranteed for you in all his takings, it was times like these you did feel it. Times like these where you felt less like a slave and more like a lover. When his bare, sweaty skin would cling to yours, the sensation of his hot breath on your neck making your own hitch in your throat, the inaudible words in what you think to be valyrian growled in his deep voice would make your stomach tighten in a familiar fashion.

In moments like these, you didn’t mind your fate too much.

The days pass and soon turn into weeks.

You never found out what the potion or herbs were about. Soon after that day however, Aemond had given you your own chambers for the first time ever since you came into his service. They were small and humble in comparison to his but still a far cry from what any servant or peasant could wish for.

A large bed with enough blankets and pillows to make it through the coldest winter nights, a table with two chairs, a sofa, two cradles, a wardrobe and other furniture, all made of richly coloured wood with intricate patterns and carvings.

The chambers were far from his. He did not want screaming babes keeping him up at night, thus the adjustment needed to be made, even if the thought of your impending absence from his bed soured his mood already.

You may have been the prince regent’s favourite and were to have his bastard children, yet you were still a lowly bed slave, thus expected to give birth with only the standard precautions taken and to take care of both babes yourself. No wet nurse or handmaiden to help you. That much you were made aware of as soon as you had arrived in the Red Keep all those moons ago.

What is a frightening thought, to be so young and left to care for two babes alone, did give you a feel of hope regardless.

Hope for some peace and quiet away from Aemond, hope for being able to sleep and wake up without his hands all over you, and the hope of him finally growing bored of you and relieving him of your service to him.

There was only a small chance of that happening, you knew, yet you held onto that hope until the day he left for battle again.

He had indulged himself in you daily until then, knowing he would soon have no more chance to do so - at least for a while, until you were fully healed.

When he had to leave for a long military operation he bid you goodbye before making his way to Vhagar. You watched him leave before retiring to your own chambers, happily confining yourself to your new chambers with books and yarn.

Less than a fortnight after Aemonds departure, the day had arrived. Going into labour in the late hours of the afternoon you had been bed bound for a whole day before your babes would finally make their arrival.

Two sons, healthy and strong despite their small size - the maester had assured you this was a common occurrence for twins. They would fill out soon, he claimed, aiding in calming your fears.

To your surprise, you were not left as abandoned as you had expected to be. The maester cared for your body as you learned how to nurse your sons, how to change and bathe them.

You were provided nourishing, large meals, lotions, oils and herbs, your belly bound by ever changing maids. You could tell these were benefits granted to you at the order of the prince. He must have instructed them to do so before he left.

Whether he did this out of the kindness of his heart or purely because he wished you back in his service as quickly as possible in the best possible condition you were not sure, yet you would not complain either.

All you did was focus on your sons who you named Aurelius Waters, the elder one, and Patroclus Waters, the younger one. Briefly had you considered naming them in the traditions of house Targaryen to appease Aemond, but he was not here.

He could not interfere. They were bastards after all, so you took the liberty of naming them to your heart's content - the first time you've felt in control ever since being forced into his service.

Meanwhile, Aemond was busy on the battlefields, travelling back and forth between the crownlands and riverlands, aiding in one battle after the other as he brought victory after victory to his brother’s cause.

He found his days eerily quiet without the presence of his beloved bed slave by his side. His days seemed dark and gloomy, empty and devoid of life. He looked forward to when he would be reunited with you but to his dismay, his presence was needed for far longer than he had anticipated.

As the days went on, you had soon taken notice of both the maids and maesters who were seemingly fascinated by the fact that both babes were actually growing very fast and became more active than ever. Both were feeding at your breast all day long, soon turning plumb and full of life.

Why were they so suprised? Had they lied to you when they said all would be well?

You could not help but grow increasingly worried and suspicious at the maesters seemingly heightened interest in your sons, the words and warning of the mysterious old lady plaguing your mind even in your sleep. You started locking your chamber at night mere days after giving birth, finding yourself unable to sleep whenever you knew anyone could walk in and do something to your children while you slept.

You tried to stay calm, tried all you could to ease your mind. You tried to take a walk once. To go into the gardens you usually avoided for you knew there were often ladies whispering hurtful insults behind their hands.

Walking there with both sons tied to your chest with a long, silken piece of fabric, you stopped dead in your tracks when you overheard the hushed whispers of who you assumed to be servans. You stayed and listened, like a deer hearing a branch snap.

Really? One said. They wouldn’t do that. The other said. I’m certain! I’ve heard it with my own ears! Another proclaimed.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart skipped several beats as you continued to listen in on their conversation. You clutched your sons tighter and turned around on your heels, hurrying back into you chamber and shutting the door behind you with a loud thud, immediately turning the lock closed.

From that day on, the door would stay locked at all times.

You unlocked the door only on few occasions. Whenever a servant brought you food or came to clean, or whenever you put dirty nappies out for someone to take and get rid of.

Maesters were no longer allowed in your room at all and no one was allowed to touch your sons. You did it all yourself. You could not bear the sight of anyone else touching them, too bad had your paranoia and fears gotten.

You kept the cradles right next to your bed and the babes tied to your chest more often than not. You slept only when they slept and fed, bathed and cleaned them yourself.

By the time Aemond finally returned two months after you welcomed your sons, you were a sleep deprived mess. Paranoid as ever with the door firmly locked at all times.

Something Aemond would be informed of by the maesters soon after his return.

masterlist part 2 >

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond #aemond one eye #possessive aemond #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #prince aemond #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen

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