#the shadow realm can never touch you now my queen

[hotvintagepoll]

since no one submitted hattie mcdaniel, could we make her the imperial guard of the shadow realm? Or is she not there at all??

I feel like putting Hattie McDaniel anywhere near the shadow realm when she didn't even get to compete in the tournament at all offends every strand of my being. She is an icon and is above all of this.

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Five: The Princess and the Queen

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello, besties! How about that finale... I wanted to thank everyone who has left lovely comments and support about the story. It really makes me smile. I hope I continue to write y'all a story you like as it progresses. Thanks again!

Chapter Warnings: mentions rape, trauma, and symptoms related to childhood SA, mentions self-harm, emotional abuse.

The halls of the Red Keep were a vast expanse filled with candelabras, torches, paintings, and tapestries. If it was night, one could pass by a person and not notice them. The tremendous shadows held many secrets, causing you only to venture alone if there was no choice. 

But in the day, with the help of the warm sun shining through archways and open windows, it was a magnificent sight. It made you feel deeply grateful and amazed that your ancestors built a place like this and stood the test of time with its beauty. 

A tapestry, in particular, caught your eyes as you walked the grand halls to your lessons with the old crone Septa Marlow. It was woven with the finest colored wool with shiny red, green, brown, and white silk threads, depicting a scene between men, women, and dragons. Studying it with furrowed brows, you felt perplexed as you tilted your head, trying to understand the story told through the fabric. It looked like the people were naked, enjoying a festive party filled with wine, smiles, and dragons that devoured each other, mouths of men, women, and beasts on bodies in odd places.

The artist showed one man with his head buried between a lady’s thighs and a dragon pressed closely behind him. Another was a woman and a dragon resting between her legs, leaning over the top of her with its pointed tongue touching her chest. The memory of what Aegon did to you on the ramparts that night came to the forefront of your mind, and it sent a hot, nauseating wave to your stomach and privy parts. It was such a bewildering piece of art that you never noticed until now, making you wonder if it had always been there and if there were more of them.

“Do you like it?” A voice asked beside you, causing you to release a shriek as you jumped out of your skin. 

As you tried to calm your nerves, Aegon suddenly stood beside you, touching your chest. Every fiber of your being told you to run. To scream, kick, or hurt your uncle after what he did, but instead, your body betrayed you, anxiety filling your shoes with rocks.

“Personally, it’s one of my favorites. It shows how our dragon blood came to be,” he continued, jutting his narrow hip to the side as he flicked his frizzy mane. 

You couldn’t think, breathe, or scratch at the prickling hair on your arms. You were mad—that is what you were feeling. You were upset because your uncle stole you from your thoughts and didn’t listen when you told him to stop. 

“You hurt me, Aegon!” The words echoed against the pale redstone as he flinched like you had struck him. He briefly stared at your scowl as you did with the tapestry, thin lips pursed as he tried wrapping his mind around what you could be referencing. 

“Oh! You mean the other night?” Aegon chortled and shrugged his hands in the pockets of his trousers as if this was the most basic of revelations. “Twas nothing, niece. You know it. We cuff each other about all the time and think nothing of it. This was no different.” 

Fire filled your veins at his passivity, digging your nails into your skin until they left crescents in their wake. “No, this was different. You hurt me, uncle. It still hurts there,” you confessed, attempting to keep your anger instead of the gradual wetness that itched your nose. 

Worry flashed in Aegon’s amethyst eyes as he fully faced you, taking a step closer as you took one back in return. He pretended not to feel the slight at your wordless rejection and held out a sinewy hand. This was how it always was when Aegon did something you didn’t like. You would pout for a few days until he begrudgingly apologized without the words, and then you and your brothers would tease Aemond. He believed this time would be no different.

“Come on,” he sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “Let’s skip your lessons today and go to the Godswood. You can pick those pretty flowers you like. It’ll be like nothing ever happened,” your uncle offered with his typical lopsided grin.

The action startled you, causing your muscles to tense and your spine to go rigid as you hugged your stomach for comfort. Fear replaced any anger you felt at the notion that you would be alone with Aegon and have no one to help you if he didn’t listen to you again. Without knowing it, your skirt became damp, a dark spot slowly forming on the sky-blue fabric between your legs as you soiled yourself. 

Your face heated in shame as your uncle waited for your answer, too stunned by the involuntary action to think of running away when he abruptly noticed the liquid flowing into the cracks of the stone floor. He jumped away with a disgusted yelp like it would burn him if he touched it as you covered your eyes in embarrassment. Tears leaked from them, unable to stop the thick droplets as they ran down your cheeks like rivers and stained your sleeves. Your uncle would surely use this against you for the rest of your life.

This was all Aemond’s fault, Aegon thought. It’s not enough that he is their mother’s favorite. He had to take the one thing that was his—the only person who was solely at his side and his side only. Now, his being in his niece’s presence caused her to wet herself out of fright. He didn’t mean to hurt you. You both were having a bit of fun. The serving girls never seemed to act the way you were.

Aegon stared at you. Unsure of what to do and if you would still avoid his touch, he took another step forward, preventing the urine from touching his shoes, and reached out to extend tense words of comfort. 

“All is well, niece,” he awkwardly consoled and patted your shoulder like you would a rabid dog. “Tis nothing-”

“Princess!”

The title was screamed down from the end of the hall, interrupting your uncle and distracting you from your shame. Both you and Aegon turned to the commotion and saw Septa Marlow storming towards you at a speed faster than a woman her age should travel. You were severely late to your lessons, and per your mother’s orders, Marlow was allowed to search for and punish you as she saw fit for your misbehaviors. 

Releasing a defeated groan, you hung your head and mentally prepared for the tongue lashing you would receive from her and your mother later as she stood before you, huffing with her bony hands on the waist of her grey skirt. You attempted to hide the damp spot on your dress and covered it with your hands.

“Little Miss, I’ve been waiting for you in the lesson room for half an hour! Your mother told you what would happen if you skipped them again,” the old maid sighed exasperatedly, shaking her habit-covered head in disappointment. “You are a woman of the crown, and yet you toss your duties aside as if they are no more than rotten fruit. When will you learn?” 

Your eyes focused on the pool that glistened in the daylight as it reflected your face. A countenance puffy with tears and wet with snot, plump, moist lips pursed into a deep frown framed by a head of dark waves. At this angle, you could see the small patch of hair you plucked out of your scalp, the urge to touch it coming over you. You wondered if others could see it, too.

“Look me in the eyes when I’m speaking to you, Princess,” Marlow ordered with a strict tone. You gradually lifted your gaze to match hers, fighting back another onslaught of tears. 

You were tired of getting in trouble. You wanted to be the good girl your mother said you were, but it was hard. It seemed as if everything you did was wrong, and you began to believe you deserved harsher punishment because of your continued failure. The urge to feel the sting of hair pulled from its follicle was too strong. You needed to be alone, away from irate Septas and parents, and with your brothers or Aemond—people who understood your sadness and would listen to it.

Your Septa observed you with calculating eyes, flicking from the sorrowful arch of your brows to the downward bow of your lips to your stained skirt. You tried to obscure it more from her view, twisting your body to the side, but it was for naught as she pulled at your wrist, displaying your disgrace for all to see. Marlow’s gaze was piercing, trying to pull puzzle pieces together as she looked from you to Aegon. 

Without warning, she yanked you behind her by your arm, feeling as if she wanted to pull it from the socket and put her body between yours and your uncle’s. 

“What did you do?” she interrogated sharply, her thin lips becoming even thinner with her jaw set. Aegon stared at her, stunned, and you began to weep in horror. “What did you do to her?” 

The question sent chills down your limbs, making the hairs stand on end. What did he do to you? All you could comprehend was that Aegon hurt you with a part that was supposed to be covered, like when you would get into fights that developed into blows. You knew it was wrong, but how Marlow shielded you with her body like a soldier on the battlefield made you think it was more than what a simple scuffle would be.

Aegon stared at Septa Marlow, shocked. His mouth agape as he stuttered to explain, his hands gesturing when he couldn’t get the words out. “Nothing!” he shouted in defense and stepped back from the elderly woman. 

“Liar,” she staunchly declared as she grabbed your uncle by his ear, bringing him closer to her seething gaze.

“Unhand me wench! I am a prince!” He screeched like a kicked dog, yelping and hollering in astonishment. You never thought Septa Marlow was so hearty or bold enough to scream in the crown prince’s face, and it scared you to no end as you hid in the fabric of her scratchy wool dress.

“People respond to pain according to where they were hurt, my Prince,” she spat as you listened with surprise. 

Did she know?

Aegon was awful. He felt slighted and would upset everyone just because he was. You worried Marlow would get into trouble with the Queen for touching her son and tried to lead her away, but your little arms were useless as she spoke through gritted teeth. 

“She isn’t one of your toys you can use as you see fit. When Rhaenyra hears of what you’ve done to her daughter, you’re mother won’t be able to protect you.” 

With that, Septa Marlow released Aegon as he whined, rubbing the afflicted area like she had ripped his ear from his head. You didn’t want her to get reprimanded on behalf of defending you, so you tugged at her sleeve again, begging with your eyes for her to leave. 

“Please, Septa, I want to go to my lessons now,” you implored, the words hiccuped.

She faced you then as if she suddenly recalled your presence beside her and stroked a comforting hand down your loose hair, coming to cup your cheek with a tenderness she had never given you before. It startled you into silence. Anguish glistened in Marlow’s blue eyes, as light as the sapphire bedsheets you slept on every night as she took your balled fist into her cold one. 

“Let us get you cleaned first,” she kindly replied, disregarding Aegon as if he didn’t matter. 

Septa Marlow seemed almost mournful like she suddenly discovered that she had lost a loved one as she led you down the many halls to your chambers in silence.

Your ladies-in-waiting greeted you with startled expressions as they tended to their duties, surprised to see you and Septa Marlow at an odd time. The first one to bow was Edwina of House Karstark, the youngest of Lord Rolan Karstark and his Lady wife. She was a few years older than you and was stout, standing on tall, sturdy legs and hips. Her shoulders were broad underneath her crimson servant gown, which featured wide blue-gray eyes and long brown hair styled underneath her cap. 

“Princess,” she politely greeted with a curtsy as the others followed. 

Septa Marlow wasted no time ordering your ladies to draw you a bath, the women ceasing their actions as they hastily ran to the kitchens to gather hot water. Staring at the older woman with a wary expression, you played with your fingers as you felt the overwhelming fluttering sensation of nerves bubble in your stomach. You hadn’t bathed since before that night, and the idea of multiple people seeing you in a vulnerable state made you want to run away. This wasn’t something you had experienced before. 

Typically, you loved baths, even bathing with your brothers on occasion as you played with toys and the servants scrubbed your bodies, but now, it seemed as if an abrupt aversion deep within you spawned, and you were powerless to stop it.

The maids finished with their last pail of water, dumping it into the metal tub and sprinkling in slices of oranges and nectarines, which were your favorites. Yet you still looked at the steaming water with reluctance. You didn’t want to bathe. It would take too much time, and having your body bare, feeling the hands of people gripping, scrubbing your flesh, water sloshing… 

It was too much. 

“Come, princess, let’s undress,” Enith, another of your ladies from House Blackbar, kindly ordered you with a wave of her dainty hands. 

Without warning, you ran to your bed, resting on your knees as you shook your head vehemently. “No! I don’t want to take a bath. I want to go to my lessons with Septa Marlow!”

The women exchanged confused glances, multiple pairs of colored eyes waiting for the other to do something about your out-of-character disobedience. They knew something must be wrong. You were never one to tolerate having the slightest bit of dirt underneath your fingernails, and not only did you deny cleaning yourself despite being covered in urine, but you wanted to go to spend time with Septa Marlow. You despised your lessons. You would kick and scream until your voice gave out, saying you didn’t want to go. Now you were doing the same.

“Princess,” Marlow called her gaze disbelieving and holding a look of challenge. “You must bathe before you can be seen. Your skirt reeks of piss.” You comprehended her reasoning, but something inside you refused to listen as you shouted disagreements.

Your Septa, the boldest of the women, came forward to grab you, but you swiftly dodged her, sliding across your wrinkled sheets. She dealt with your mother before you and knew how to handle troublesome young girls, though the years weighed heavily on her parchment-thin skin and brittle bones, and she was unable to get a hold of you. 

“I don’t want to take a bath!” You shouted as Edwina took a step forward, attempting to help Marlow undress you. They managed to snatch your leg and remove your dress as you wiggled and squirmed in their grasp, the fabric catching on your ears.

You quickly scampered away after they let go and flung open the adjoining door to your brother’s room, running over each of the neatly made beds as Septa Marlow and your ladies chased you. Swiftly, you ran to the exit, attempting to run out and down the hall. To where they couldn’t find you but were hastily stopped by Enith in front of you.

“Get, Princess Rhaenyra,” Marlow ordered Enith as she and Edwina restrained you, kicking and screaming in their grasp. “What is wrong with you? Does this have something to do with Prince Aegon?” Marlow pointedly questioned, on the verge of coughing with exertion.

Refusing to answer, you continued to thrash against them. You didn’t want to hurt your Septa despite disliking her, but if she told your mother about Aegon being the cause of your accident and she started asking questions, you would have no choice but to tell her about that night. Perhaps you could try to lie and say your uncle startled you in the corridor, which is why you wet yourself. You prayed to the Gods that she would believe you.

What felt like hours of struggling against a girl a few years older than you and an ancient Septa was moments as your mother emerged, a startled, wide-eyed look on her face as she watched you bite Edwina’s dress sleeve. 

“Enough!” your mother shouted over your dispute, ceasing all three of you as you panted.

Without hesitation, you ripped your arms away from the women, stomping to your room and curling face-first into a maroon settee. They were powerless to stop you now that your mother was here. You could hear their mumblings through the wall as a new wave of tears crashed over you, burying your cries into the soft cushions. 

You were uncertain what the reason for your sobs was. It could be that you had just experienced a rush of emotions you weren’t ready to handle or the guilt of making your ladies and Septa Marlow chase you around your shared quarters like a mouse, yet you knew the real reason. You tried denying it briefly, but the conscience your mother instilled in you made you see the truth. 

You were terrified about what she would do if she discovered you snuck out with Aegon, drank stolen wine, and ate desserts from the kitchens when you were supposed to be asleep.

The door to Jace and Luke’s room clicked shut, and you briskly raised your head at the sound, seeing your mother. You swiftly buried your face back into the cushions as you heard the delicate tapping of her shoes come closer. She said nothing for a long moment, sitting beside you and rubbing a gentle hand in soothing circles on your back. 

Rhaenyra wasn’t upset with your behavior; she was more concerned than anything. Like Septa Marlow said, this was unlike you. Your nursemaids taught you how to use the privy, and you hadn’t wet the bed since you were four. For Seven’s sake, it was everything your mother could do to get you out of the tub! 

She knew something had happened, something terrible.

“Little love?” Rhaenyra tenderly spoke your name as she leaned closer. “Will you tell me the cause of this?” 

You merely sniffled in response, rendered into tearful silence. 

Rhaenyra gave you a pitying unseen smile and released a sigh through her nose. She hadn’t seen you this worked up since Aemond pushed you into the garden fountain, smacking your mouth against the stone and knocking out your front tooth. With the tooth, it was an easy fix. All she needed to do was explain that another would grow back since you were young. With this, she was unsure of the cause and did not know how to get the reason out of you. 

“I can see this is hurting you, and it pains me deeply. You must know that whatever transpired will never make me love you less,” your mother confessed, her free hand clasping yours. “Whatever has you feeling in such torment is far more harsh of a punishment than I could ever give you. I could not bear to do more.” 

Slowly, you removed your face from the pillow, turning to rest your plump cheek on it. “You won’t be mad at me if I tell you?” you asked with a childish softness to your voice. 

“You know that I won’t ever lie to you. I cannot guarantee I won’t be upset, but the inner torment you currently face suffices any consequence I could give you,” your mother replied honestly, sighing and scrunching her brows.

While the words didn’t make you feel better, you did feel a lightness in your soul. You fully faced her then, tearful eyes glistening in the natural light like polished mahogany obsidian. Hiccuping your breaths, you leaned on your mother’s shoulder as she wrapped her long arm around you, uncaring about the foul-smelling gown. 

“Aegon, he sn-snuck up on me while I went to my lessons. He scared me,” you explained, thoughts and memories all mumbled together as you began to twist your hair to soothe your nerves. 

“Is that all?” she inquired in disbelief. “Your uncle scared you, and that caused you to…” Your mother didn’t finish the thought before you shook your head, impulsively tugging at your dark locks. 

“No, Mama. It happened before then. A few-a few nights ago, Aegon left me a note underneath my pillow and said he had something to tell me. He told me to follow a secret passage and that he was waiting for me.” 

You saw the color drain from your mother’s face, her violet eyes widening in horror as she swallowed nervously. “We went into the kitchens and wine cellars, helping ourselves to food and drink. A scullery maid caught us, and then he took me outside to the battlements of the Holdfast. We sat, ate, and drank, and he told me about Queen Alicent’s plan to arrange a marriage between us.”

Your mother clenched her jaw, clutching your shoulder and forcing you to face her, gaze searching for something. “Is that all?” You swiftly nodded your head. “Nothing else happened? Your uncle didn’t take you anywhere? He didn’t touch you?”

You stared at her, confused, examining the delicate slope of her nose and the intensity of her eyes. “No. Aegon didn’t take me anywhere. We stayed in the castle,” you answered hastily, trying to appease her unrest. “But he did hurt me. That’s why I don’t want to bathe; it still hurts.”

“What do you mean? How did he hurt you?” The severity of her gaze didn’t lessen, her strong fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders as she said your name. 

“He put his privy part inside-” 

You were unable to complete your sentence as your mother suddenly let out a heart-wrenching cry, pulling you close to her chest as she sobbed. Her outburst took you aback, but instinctively wrapped your arms around her, trying to offer comfort.

“Tis alright, Mama. It’s like when I lost my front tooth,” you said calmly, but she shook her head. 

“No, no, it’s not. Aegon did something to you, something you are far too young to comprehend. Does Alicent’s bitterness for our youth blind her from decency and honor?” 

And with that, you learned what Aegon did to you. 

Rape. 

Your eldest uncle raped you before you knew the meaning of the word—before you inquired where children came from. The tapestry you saw in the hall made sense now, except they were experiencing pleasure while you experienced pain. Your mother told you that what Aegon did was something that should only happen between two people who understood the consequences of sex. 

Your uncle took advantage of your innocence and abused his power over you. He knew you would allow him to do whatever he wanted because you sought his approval like nothing else. 

Your mother told you she also experienced something similar with her Uncle Daemon when she was much older and comprehended what sex was. She recounted how he left a note for her that led to a passage in her chambers just like you did, though he led her out of the safety of the Red Keep to the Streets of Loom and Silk to see her people where he abandoned your mother. You decided then that you didn’t like your Great Uncle Daemon. 

“Did he…” Rhaenyra couldn’t finish her question, tears choking her. “Did he reach completion? Did his… his seed…” 

You stared at her in confusion, still grappling with all she had explained. “Aemond caught us and took me back to his room. I didn’t see any of his seed afterward,” you answered plainly as your mother grimaced at the words. “He hasn’t told anyone. He promised not to. We’ve spent time together reading, and I think he’s becoming my friend.” 

Rhaenyra wiped the water from her face and gave you a forced smile, her mouth wet as she bobbed in acknowledgment. 

“Wonderful. I’m happy for you. You’ve always been a kind girl,” she thickly said, swallowing the excess moisture and smoothing your loose strands of hair. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? I can show you how so you don’t have to become bear with anyone you don’t want to.”

“But it’s going to hurt, mama,” you whined, tugging on her satin gray dress sleeve.

“I know, sweetheart, but you must,” she sighed, stroking you in a gesture of comfort for you or her; you didn’t know. “How about we bring Jace here? He’s due for a scrub.”

Rhaenyra would do anything to control this uncontrollable situation. 

Fidgeting with your hair nervously, you nodded in acquiescence, allowing her to undress and lower you into the water. The warm liquid burned you between your legs like you thought it would as you clawed at your mother’s arms, releasing whimpers with tensed muscles until you adjusted. She comforted you with sweet nothings until you calmed, kissing your forehead and calling for a servant to fetch your brother. 

Jace arrived begrudgingly moments later from his lessons and stripped himself bare. You couldn’t help how your gaze drifted below his waistline as you unwillingly compared it to the memory of Aegon’s. You wondered what it would look like, “aroused,” as your mother called it. It sent an unwelcomed yet not entirely unpleasant tickle into your stomach as he got in with a huff. 

As Rhaenyra declined the assistance of your attendants and Jace’s manservants in bathing her children, she deftly took the supplies from them and dismissed them with a swift gesture. Guiding you on scrubbing your body and washing your hair, she momentarily paused as she came upon the small patches of missing hair. A sense of anxiety gripped you as you felt her fingers inspecting the area, but to your relief, she made no comment and continued as if nothing occurred. 

You appreciated her kindness and understanding more than ever at that moment as Jace mischievously splashed you with soapy liquid, and a water fight between giggling siblings ensued.

The sun casts its faint glow from behind the gray clouds of King��s Landing, rays of light shining as if from the heavens above. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood atop her high balcony with her newborn in her sturdy arms, swaying him gently as she hummed a tune and looked over all the splendor the city offered. It was a land she would one day rule over and her children after her as she smiled at the sleeping bundle near her heart. 

The Princess loved her children dearly, especially the man she had them with. Despite having a name that would strike fear into his foes, he had a gentle heart. She felt her allies severely dwindle when he left. In a place Rhaenyra called home, she began to feel like an outcast. Suppose Alicent’s elaborate charade of parading a newborn child and its mother around the Red Keep was any say. The lengths her old friend would go to humiliate Rhaenyra were limitless. 

She recalled balking at her husband Laenor abandoning his post at the Red Keep to escape the rumors of the court and martial unhappiness to fight in the Stepstones with his father. But as time passed, the idea of leaving became more and more reasonable to Rhaenyra. On the chance that she would leave her home, it would not be for her, but for her children, for her only daughter whose innocence was taken before she knew what it was. It made her ill to understand that a child who was far too young to wonder where children came from would experience such depravity. 

Now more than ever, Rhaenyra questioned her children’s safety.

The Princess didn’t care about the concept of purity in this situation. No one knew what occurred other than the two involved, her and Aemond. If word happened to get out, she would fight for her daughter’s name. She was sure her half-brothers would not tell anyone, as it would be death to Alicent’s and her family’s pious image. It was mutually assured destruction. 

The door to Rhaenyra’s bed chambers opened, and a guard bowed and announced the unexpected visitor. She didn’t invite anyone. At the thought, her heart began to race, and she worried it could have something to do with you as she put Joffrey down. 

“Queen Alicent of House Hightower,” he boomed, bowing his helmeted head as the woman entered. 

Rhaenyra had half a mind to send her away. How dare she come into her quarters after everything that happened? After decades of torment and snide comments, she approaches her old friend with an air of ignorant, entitled kindness. 

“My Queen,” Rhaenyra acknowledged, refusing to extend a bow as she clasped her hand behind her back. “What do I owe the pleasure?” 

Alicent smiled briefly, encircling her fingers over her olive and gold waist as she stepped closer. The pointed star of the Seven glistened around her dainty neck. She swallowed as the Princess studied her with calculating eyes, sensing an unusual aura of hostility.

“Excuse my intrusion, Princess. I needed to speak to you. I know that we’ve had our share of differences as of late,” she began with a deep breath, wringing her digits, “but I believe that we agree on the decency of the realm and the future of our Houses.” 

Rhaenyra raised a manicured brow at the woman before her, and her peony lips curled into a snarl of disgust. She knew the next words that would undoubtedly follow.

“I know you are not blind to the rumors about the plainness of your children-”

“Vile accusations fueled by those lusting for my ruination,” the Princess interrupted, standing behind the golden-colored settee that separated her from the Queen.

Alicent sighed and pursed her lips, refusing to admit her part in the gossip. She knew it was fact, but that didn’t matter now. She could sense a change in the air, could feel the future in which her light slipped away into the darkness. It was a desperate proposition, seeing as Rhaenyra had already made one. 

“I recall in the days prior that you proposed a marriage between your son Jace and my only daughter Helaena. I wish to offer a compromise, your eldest daughter and my eldest son. They would make a fine match. No one would seek to undermine your inheritance if our Houses were united if we allied ourselves,” she rushed, worried that Rhaenyra would interrupt her like before and spoil her dream. 

She desperately wanted to call you her own, to turn things into how they were meant to be. Alicent itched to tear at the skin of her nails as the Princess stewed in the silence. 

Rhaenyra was insulted at Alicent’s desperation and audacity in countering a marriage alliance that her father told her she vehemently refused. One didn’t do these things. Alicent, the woman who spouted about decency and propriety, dared propose a marriage after the atrocity her son committed before the eyes of the Gods.

A scornful laugh erupted in Rhaenyra’s chest as she traced the wooden engravings of the furniture. “Do you truly think me so desperate?” she challenged bitterly, shaking her loosely tied hair. “You approached my negotiations with such repugnance, and now you come asking me if I will sell my only daughter to that wastrel you call a son. No. You’ve already taken too much.” 

Hurt and confusion laced the wrinkles of Alicent’s face, her doe eyes wide with a helplessness Rhaenyra hadn’t seen since they were girls. She felt as if the Queen pierced her heart with her amber orbs, but she swiftly pushed it aside as she recalled the swollen patches of missing hair on your scalp. Distress was not the expectation Rhaenyra had in mind when she denied Alicent, and it briefly perplexed her before the realization dawned. 

“You don’t know,” she enunciated more to herself than the woman in the room. “Of course, he wouldn’t tell you, but why not Aemond?” 

The Queen became distressed at Rhaenyra’s ambiguity and finally began to pull at her cuticles, attempting to distract her from the anxiety and turn it into pain. She wanted to ask what Aemond and Aegon didn’t tell her, but the words stuck in her parched throat.

Rhaenyra let out a sharp breath through her nose as she walked around an armchair and became face-to-face with her forgotten friend. A sense of superiority came over the Princess at finally having the upper hand after years of pining for Alicent’s kindness. At the moment, she had no desire to end the strife between them. 

“Aegon stole my daughter into the night and led her to the ramparts of the Holdfast, where he raped her,” Rhaenyra described with a pointed fury. “Do you know what it’s like to hear your child cry in your arms because someone debased her? She didn’t know the name of what happened to her.” 

Gasping in horror, Alicent covered her lips in shock, bracing one hand on her stomach as if she would vomit. Her son, her firstborn, the child that she loved dearly but also doomed her to eternal suffering, had raped his young niece. Aegon raped the Gods’ Light. If anyone got word of the atrocity committed on the small folk’s favorite Princess, the realm would turn on House Hightower. No one would support Aegon’s claim despite him being a son.

“Who else knows of this?” Alicent hastily asked, her face pale with fear. A small, desperate part of her still wished to continue with the proposal. Maidens were forced into unhappy marriages as a part of life, and this one would be no different. 

With a dismissive snort, Rhaenyra pivoted away from the Queen and strode back to Joffrey’s cradle. It was no shock to her that the Queen had made such a request. Her preoccupation with appearances and how she was perceived always seemed to overshadow genuine empathy, a characteristic that she appeared to have inherited from her father.

“Aemond, and now, you,” Rhaenyra answered as she stroked the button nose of her newborn. “That is the boy you want my child to wed. Her rapist. What do you think my father would do should he find out?” 

Alicent inhaled sharply, nerves winding themselves into a ball as blood trickled into her nail beds. “There is no need to get the King involved. His health is far too precarious. I shall see to it.” 

The Princess stood in the dimly lit chamber, her emotions simmering beneath the surface as she gazed down at Joffrey, nestled amidst the soft white linens that cradled him. It was nearly time for his feeding, and she didn’t want to continue discussing with the wetnurse present, knowing that any whispers or speculation about her daughter would spread like fleas.

“Good. Out of our shared blood, I will spare Aegon from his fate at the Wall. Know that I will be the one to decide where my daughter’s hand goes. You may take your leave,” Rhaenyra dismissed with a flick. 

Alicent stood frozen in place, her wide brown eyes shimmering with tears as her hand instinctively reached for the delicate Seven-Pointed Star pendant resting at the base of her neck. This object symbolized her unwavering devotion to Faith, virtue, and sacred things. However, in this moment of distress, it felt as though the points of the star were searing into her flesh, cutting into her tender palm like a mark of condemnation. The Queen’s fury, initially directed inward at herself for the perceived failure of raising a son she deemed unworthy, swiftly turned towards her eldest child. 

One thing remained unanswered as Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat, inhaling a deep breath before the question came from her plump lips. 

“How does Aemond know? Did he…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, choked at the idea that both her sons were the wickedest men. 

Rhaenyra shook her head scornfully, sneered, and took Joffrey into her arms, refraining from the bitter laugh that threatened to erupt. “He stopped Aegon from reaching completion inside her, but there was no point. He’d already damaged my daughter beyond comprehension. She wets herself at the sight of him and refuses to bathe without her brother.” 

The Princess’s gaze traveled to the floor, a scowl on her face. The recollection of you whimpering as you lowered into the tub played in her mind’s eye. She sat on the lavish settee that separated her from the Queen, exhausted, the effort of standing still too precarious after her labors. 

“That is your decency,” Rhaenyra jeered as Alicent stood with her back ramrod straight. 

The wetnurse entered the Princess’s chambers before she could respond, wordlessly understanding that this was not a subject to discuss in front of the staff.

The act of Aegon fraternizing with maids and indulging in excess was already troubling, but he deliberately destroyed one of the few things that brought Alicent joy. It felt like a personal attack. He shattered your innocence and the light that used to brighten Alicent’s dreams. Although conflicted about the fact that it was her son who committed this act, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of rage inside her, causing her to drop her arms to her sides swiftly.

Sins such as these will not go unpunished, she thought.

“I thank you for your time, Princess. I will see that the matter is duly handled.” With a heavy heart, the Queen bid farewell to her old friend, lingering momentarily at the chambers’ door before leaving. Little did she know that it would be many years before she would set foot in that place again.

As Rhaenyra observed the Green Queen’s departure, her auburn locks cascading gracefully with each subtle movement of her hips, she resolved to assume dominion over Dragonstone. Despite the perils of her leaving, her children’s safety took precedence over her own. The Red Keep was no longer a secure place for any of them. 

Alicent waited until twilight blanketed the castle as she tentatively nursed a goblet of wine, candles flickering in the darkness. She rarely indulged in this vice, but this day required such comfort. She didn’t think one’s world could end in mere moments, yet for her, it did. The future that helped lay Alicent to rest atop her silk pillows was no more. 

After years of tolerating Rhaenyra’s and Viserys’ arrogance, upholding duty, the kingdom, and the law, she felt she was due this one thing. It was not so much to ask. If her old friend were a better ruler, she would understand that marriage to the one who took advantage of you would be a minuscule sacrifice to make for the good of the realm. But Rhaenyra was a good mother, not a ruler—something which Alicent both envied and disliked. 

Downing the last contents of her cup, Alicent stood still in the day’s attire as she nodded to Ser Criston, who returned one in kind. He knew her destination without her speaking it into existence, escorting her the few rooms to her eldest son’s. She didn’t bother the courtesy of knocking as she shoved open the sturdy oak door to reveal her son resting on the mattress near his window, sheets at his thighs and prick in his hand. Bile briefly burned the Queen’s throat, covering her sneered lips to prevent it from spilling.

It wasn’t the first time she caught Aegon pleasuring himself, nor did she think it would be the last as she witnessed him with a pocket portrait of you in his grasp, stroking his glistening member. Alicent felt sick, turning away from the blasphemous sight before her and into Ser Cristion’s armored chest. This is not her son. 

“Fuck!”

The commotion alerted Aegon to their presence as he shouted obscenities, swiftly covering his hips with the discolored sheets. Was he not afforded the same privacy as others? The Keep was his home, too.

“You are in the presence of your Queen Mother. Act as such,” Criston ordered, the whisper of his hand gliding over Alicent’s back. She stepped away from her sworn protector, brown curls loose as she swallowed her tears.

“What have you done now?” she interrogated with a resentful shake of her head, a scowl on her plump lips.

Aegon peered at her confused, mouth opened as he craned his neck upwards. It was hard to tell what his mother implied, seeing as he got into his fair share of mischief alone and with his nephews and niece. “I don’t know what you mean,” he answered honestly, and Alicent believed him. 

She knew her son would survive daily with nothing but firewater and was unsurprised by his dispassionate attitude. This was another one of his jokes, she realized. Aegon was so ignorant of his bullying that it became his nature. He was incapable of understanding the magnitude of how his actions affected others. 

“What you did to the Princess, how you lured her from her bed at some unholy hour and raped a child! She is a child, Aegon!” Alicent roared, her velvet voice rattling in her throat with anger, arms trembling at her sides. “She does not understand the relationship between man and woman, and you took advantage of her. She trusted you!”

Tears pooled in Aegon’s amethyst eyes, his mouth pouting from his mother’s tirade. “She told me I could do it. I didn’t mean to hurt her!” he protested, recoiling. Aegon felt like a child who destroyed a precious vase after his parent told him not to touch it. “Did Aemond tell you? You know he’s lying. He’s still upset about the pig.”

“Another depiction of your cruelty,” the Queen snidely retorted, face curled in disgust. “Rhaenyra will never agree to a union of our Houses after what you’ve done. You’ve ruined all prospects of my happiness. How does it make you feel to treat your mother this way?” 

When her son did not answer, choosing to lower his head and cower, she stormed towards him, causing Aegon to scamper upright in fear and clutch the sheets in his trembling fingers. Without warning, Alicent struck her son across his cheek, pink blooming across his pale skin. Her son cradled his face as tears began to fall, but she roughly yanked Aegon’s hand away, hitting him like before and causing his lip to split as she screamed.

“How does it feel to have destroyed a child’s life? To have effectively decimated all chances of peace with your repulsive desires? She would have solidified your claim. No one would have thought to raise their banners otherwise,” she fumed as her arms gestured wildly, Aegon flinching with her move. “The realm’s blood is on your hands.”

He hiccuped, unevenly breathing as snot dripped into his mouth, stinging his bloodied lip. Aegon rubbed his swollen cheek that would no doubt bear the mark of his mother’s rage the next morn, swallowing his tears, spit, and mucus. 

“I’m sorry, mummy,” he remorsefully expressed, looking down in shame. 

He was only sorry because Alicent found out. Had it not been for her proposition to Rhaenyra, his mother would have never found out.

She sneered, glaring at her son as Alicent abruptly recalled a quote from a book about motherhood she read as a young girl. It stated how deeply a mother’s love for their child went. It was like nothing else and knew no law or pity. How its mere existence dares all things and remorselessly crushes down all that stood in its path.

Alicent could find evidence of herself in her children, no matter their Targaryen queerness or the silver hair and violet sparkle in their eyes. She saw herself in Helaena’s gently sloped nose, Aegon’s round and sleepless eyes, Aemond’s straight-backed bearing, and how his expressive brow always gave away his genuine emotions.

On the worst of days, she reminded herself that she left a legacy—that Viserys didn’t devour every evidence of her girlhood with his cursed blood. She clung to these shards of herself, reflected at her from her children, and it felt like trying to pick up splinters of colored glass from a broken Sept window with her delicate fingers.

The Queen loved Aegon but could not do so as she did for Helaena, Aemond, Daeron, and you. She would drink poison for her eldest but couldn’t embrace him. Alicent would step into dragon fire for him yet refused to say the words he desperately longed to hear. She tried to tell Aegon that she would love him no matter what he did, that he could not stop her from doing so, but the confession refused to roll off her tongue.

“You are no son of mine,” she declared, inhaling a shuddering breath. There was nothing more for her to say, and she left her son, whimpering and sniveling in the confines of his bedroom. 

Aegon stood alone in the dimly lit chamber, his eyes fixated on seeing his mother’s departure. Overwhelming agony and disgrace filled his being, and he found himself utterly wounded beyond words. It cut him deeply to the core that the person who was meant to love and protect him unconditionally could cause him such anguish. He couldn’t fathom how the one stable relationship he had hoped for in a tumultuous life had turned out to be the source of his deepest pain. It seemed as though his mother’s love was limited, only granted to those who could fulfill her expectations.

It seemed as if taking the place of his mother’s favorite wasn’t enough. Aemond also had to take his only true friend. 

Aegon concluded that Aemond must have made the situation far worse than it was in an attempt to direct Alicent’s wrath onto him. No doubt his younger brother did something to displease her. Without Aemond’s interruption, none of this would have happened. His mother wouldn’t be upset with him, Aegon would still have his pride, and you would still be his friend. After all, you were his first.

You were not naive. You comprehended why your mother chose to depart from the Red Keep, and you felt responsible for it all. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the idea of residing on Dragonstone. In the summer, it was a magnificent place. Aegon the Conqueror’s garden was a breathtaking sight that could rival the Keeps, and the perpetual breeze that swept across the island made the high temperatures quite bearable. Nevertheless, you were apprehensive about living there.

It wasn’t your home. 

You were born and grew up here, surrounded by companions and starting a new beginning with your Uncle Aemond. The Keep was all you knew, but it wasn’t all joyful memories. You often faced relentless teasing from your uncles for not having Valyrian features and simply because you were a girl. Despite the challenges, you wanted things to stay the same, even after what Aegon did. When your mother revealed important news during supper, you didn’t complain about your shared feelings, unlike your brothers. 

As the sun dipped below the western horizon, casting a warm yellow-orange glow across the sky, your mother gently reassured you that Aegon would never trouble you again as she tucked you snugly into bed. Rhaenyra, taking no chances, commissioned the palace locksmith to forge a sturdy iron bolt for the tunnel door and generously compensated him for his secrecy. She doubled the guard outside your chambers also to further ensure your safety. 

Knowing that your eldest uncle could not breach your defenses brought you immense relief, finally allowing you to rest your head. However, that sense of peace shattered as you awoke suddenly, a flutter of anxiety gripping your chest.

Your mother arranged to leave King’s Landing within a fortnight, and with your guards becoming more of a presence than before, you worried when you would see Aemond to tell him goodbye. Your mother had expressed her displeasure at you spending time with any of the Queen’s children, and you didn’t want him to think you abandoned him. 

Laying in your soft bed, surrounded by your plush pillows and fluffy duvet, you tossed and turned, battling the idea of if you should do what started this in the first place and sneak through the tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast. You were scared about becoming lost in the vast passages, but you inhaled an encouraging breath and threw your covers off. A shiver ran through your body, whether from the sudden lack of warmth or anxiety; you were unsure as you snatched the lit candle from your bedside table. 

You planned to go into the first door you saw and take yourself from there, which proved problematic when it didn’t budge, no matter how hard you pushed. It sent a surge of panic into your soul as you glanced around the dark hallways, the sounds of rats squeaking and water dripping adding to the storm of fear that formed. You felt helpless, afraid that from the blackness, a monster would emerge and devour you whole, leaving nothing but bones for your parents to find. 

Exhale. Inhale.

The steady breathing of your lungs calmed your nerves enough to think clearly. All you needed to do was find the next exit. Eventually, the tunnels would end. 

As you went to step forward, a rock rolled under your shoe, causing you to stumble briefly before an idea came to mind. You recalled days when you spent outside with Helaena or your brothers drawing on the stone walkways of the Keep, creating pictures of your family, dragons, and all sorts of animals before they were washed away by rain. There was no rain in here. You could use it to mark your path and retrace your steps if lost. 

Dragging the stone along the walls created a line lighter than the rock as you felt it vibrate along uneven surfaces. Finally, you found another door. You moved the indentation with the shove of your shoulder, and it opened, revealing a dark room lit by only the silver moon glow shining through the windows. 

You realized it was the library as you saw the towers of bookcases lining the room and felt a surge of victory. Quickly, you scribbled the word onto the passage wall as you shut the portal, a painting depicting a fierce battle between men and dragons hanging on it. You could navigate yourself from here and stealthily walk the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep until you find Aemond’s quarters and enter as you did before. 

He wasn’t startled this time and only sleeplessly turned on his side to face you, opening his covers, which you crawled in greedily. You stuck yourself to Aemond’s side, pinning his arm uncomfortably between your bodies until he unwedged it with a sigh and put it under your neck. You were silent for a long moment with your hands tucked near your chin, unsure how to tell him you were leaving.

Aemond realized as he stared at the top of his canopy bed, violet eyes focused on the fabric that swirled in the night. The more he got to know you, the more your presence stopped irritating him. He liked that you respected his boundaries despite having different ones. You knew that Aemond preferred silence and hated it when someone took his things or disrupted whatever plans he made for the day, which was why he was so affronted when you decided to make a regular appearance in his life. 

“My mother is taking us to Dragonstone,” you blurted, unable to express yourself otherwise. 

Aemond blinked at you in the darkness and unhurriedly turned, his brows arched. “For how long?” he questioned. 

“I’m not sure,” you softly soughed, gazing downcast. “I think forever. Mother doesn’t think we’re safe after what Aegon did and the rumors that we’re…” You couldn’t finish your thought. It was as if the word bastard was something you could not say aloud. 

Aemond knew what you meant and pursed his thin lips as resentment swirled in his stomach. It felt like he couldn’t have anything that made him happy. Born without a dragon, he was forced to be the odd one out, and now he was losing the only person his age who seemed to care for him. Something or someone would permanently ruin his happiness. In this case, it was his brother. Hatred burned in his heart for Aegon. 

“I don’t think Mama will allow me to visit the Keep. She doesn’t want us to be around Queen Alicent or any of you,” you sullenly confided, melancholy tugging your eyes. “A part of me wants to leave because of Aegon, but the other wants to stay with you.” 

“I don’t need you to be my friend. I don’t need your pity,” Aemond barked, causing you to flinch. It was the only way he knew to be when he was uncomfortable with the notion of vulnerability. 

You sighed, squirming closer to him and putting your palm on his chest. “I don’t feel bad for you, Aemond. You’re my only friend besides my brothers. Why would I want to leave you behind?” 

He didn’t know how to respond, unused to someone other than his mother speaking with candid emotions. 

“I enjoy spending time with you, uncle. You’re the first person I told that I wanted to be like Nymeria and find my Mors Martell,” you confessed, playing with the fabric of his nightshirt between your fingers. He didn’t know why the idea that you needed to find your prince consort vexed him. 

“We all must make sacrifices for family,” Aemond stiffly explained. 

You could only get Aemond to offer you comfort by explicitly telling him. He was locked within his mind’s fortress, refusing to let anything or anyone in. 

“When Gaelithox is big enough, I’ll ride him and visit you. I promised that we would fly together.” Aemond’s purple orbs flicked to you at the reminder of your oath, and after a long stretch of speechlessness, he took your hand. 

“Very well,” he nodded, and you nestled closer to your uncle, resting your temple in the crook of his neck. That was good enough for you. You could rest easy now, but your uncle’s mind still whirred, stuck on one thought. 

“Do you think you’ll ever find your Mors Martell?” he asked, stirring you from your slumber. “I heard my mother talking one day, and she said that there was no place for a woman to have expectations for her husband. She must accept whatever match her father deems necessary.”

You hushed for a long moment, and Aemond thought you might have fallen asleep before you rose in your arms, looking down at him in the darkness. “I’m a Targaryen princess, not some regular noblewoman. My mother said I may choose who I want to marry, whether he be a knight, a dragon rider, or a second son—so long as he’s worthy.”

Seeing the hesitancy in his gaze, his silver-blonde hair loose and draped over the green satin pillows, you leaned down, bestowing a short yet sweet kiss to the top of his sun-spotted nose with a grin. He lay there, shocked, unable to speak or move, his cheeks blooming a vibrant pink that you could see in the darkness as you lay back down, feeling satisfied in your gut. 

“All I ask of him is that he has a good heart, cares for me as I do him, is someone with whom I can trust my secrets, and protects me from my enemies. That is the type of man who’s worthy. Dragon or not, it doesn’t matter,” you sighed contentedly, feeling the claws of sleep overtake you.

You stirred with a blink when Aemond’s hand rose slowly and tentatively touched your cheek, your brown eyes wide and glimmering in the moonlight. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft, and warm your skin felt under his fingers.  He pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your breath quicken. Your uncle was hesitant about expressing what he wanted so as not to frighten you. Aegon was experienced with this sort of thing, not Aemond, and understood that you would see him the same way if he went about it like his brother did. 

As unworthy. 

A monster.

As he leaned in closer, he gently ran his thumb across your skin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers traced the curve of your neck, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Even in the dimly lit room, he could feel the heat of your blush.

“May I?” he asked, voice mumbled as you nodded quickly, a giddy feeling in your heart.

You gently traced your fingers along his chiseled jawline, savoring the unfamiliar intimacy of Aemond’s proximity. It sent a surge of warmth through his stomach, and his heart raced as he tenderly cupped your cheek in his hand. 

When your uncle’s lips finally pressed against yours, he was surprised by how soft and moist they were, pulling swiftly in slight embarrassment with a noiseless click of flesh. He turned away with hot ears and abruptly shut his eyes, feeling like he was about to die simultaneously from bashfulness and excitement.

“Let us sleep,” he tenderly ordered, settling back into his former position. It was too much emotion for one time, and you didn’t want to push him further. Aemond felt ashamed that he was sharing the same bed as his bastard niece, yet her presence had a calming effect on him.

You answered nothing, settling beside him like before as he put his arms around you, sending a flutter in your heart. It was his first kiss, just like yours, and for the first time in many years, he felt proud, fulfilled, happy, and worthy. For the time being, he didn’t worry about what a life without you and your brothers meant for him, focused only on your comforting warmth and scent that reminded him of a cool, bright summer day as you both fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I hope y'all enjoyed that last scene because it'll be the last sweet one for a long time! XD

Bedwetting, refusing to take baths/showers, and uncontrollable bladder and bowel movements are all common signs of childhood SA. I didn't add that scene in there just for the shock factor. While I didn't experience those symptoms, they are textbook signs.

Some of you shared your experiences in the comments and said what happened to the OC was validating. I wanted to give y'all a public thank you for sharing your experiences even when you didn't have to, and FUCK YOU to whoever did those things to you. Still, there are so many different ways people react to trauma that there isn't a "right" or "acceptable" way to cope with it. Just remember to get professional help if you're able and find ways to channel those feelings that will benefit you positively. It's a lifelong process that can be exhausting at times, but what I like to tell myself (even if it's morbid) is that if I'm dead, then I can't be anything, and if I'm not anything, then the wrong that person did to me is nothing. I don't recommend that line of thinking to everyone, tho. XD

Thank you again for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf, @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024, @aleemendoza2425-blog

[merymoonbeam]

A voice in the void, a secret and a quiet dreamer

Rowaelin:

"But I sent you to Wendlyn for the healing. And so you would ... find him. The one who had been waiting so long for you." Aelin's heart cracked. "Rowan." Elena nodded. "He was a voice in the void, a secret, silent dreamer. And so were his companions. But the Fae Prince, he was..." Aelin reined in her sob. "I know. I've known for a long time." "I wanted you to know that joy, too," Elena whispered. "How- ever briefly." “I did,” Aelin managed to say. “Thank you.

And we have Elriel:

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. 

She arched a brow. He explained, “They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things.” Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers. Azriel’s face remained neutral.

And I will explain the "a voice in the void" part.

Elain was lost to the murky realm after the cauldron and being made. We now know it is because she was a seer.

Azriel had been the one who "freed" her from that murky realm.

But more importantly...before she was even freed from that murky realm, Azriel had focused her in a way if you look at these two scenes:

Rhys gave her a sharp look. But Elain said quietly, “The queen might come.” Silence. Elain was staring at the unlit fireplace, eyes lost to that vague murkiness. “What queen,” Nesta said, more tightly than she usually spoke to our sister. “The one who was cursed.” “Cursed by the Cauldron,” I clarified to Nesta, pushing off the archway. “When it threw its tantrum after you … left.” “No.” Elain studied me, then her. “Not that one. The other.” Nesta took a steadying breath, opening her mouth to either whisk Elain upstairs or move on. But Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, “What other?” Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. “The queen—with the feathers of flame.” The shadowsinger angled his head. Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

Let alone this is the "you are a seer" scene which freed elain from the murky realm. The "unblinking" part is quiet important. Whenever Elain has a vision or talks in riddles she is blinking rabidly. A few examples...

So as you can see...she is looking at Azriel "unblinkingly"

Another scene is this:

But Elain shook me off, heading back to the stairs. She said as she climbed the first steps, “I can hear her—crying.” I gripped the bottom post of the banister. “Who?” “Everyone thinks she’s dead.” Elain kept walking. “But she’s not. Only—different. Changed. As I was.” “Who,” I pushed. But Elain continued up the stairs, that shawl drooping down her back. Nesta stalked from Cassian’s side to approach my own. We both sucked in a breath, to say what, I didn’t know but— “What did you see,” Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him. “I saw young hands wither with age. I saw a box of black stone. I saw a feather of fire land on snow and melt it.”

Feyre asks and asks...nothing. Azriel asks and she stops to look back at him.

And this whole parallel hits even harder when you think about how Rowan had a mate...but it was fake and there are MANY parallels with elriel and rowaelin. Such as these BANGERS.

So yeah...I think this is my top parallel find. I'm retiring. I cant top this.

[ultralightpoe]

The Great War - Aemond Targaryen

The Great War - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT SPEAK NOW! YES!

Warnings: death, cheating, a dragon is killed

Word Count: 2841

The MIDNIGHTS event! (Take a look if you love Taylor Swift) and the upcoming SOUR event (requests for that one are still open so send em in!

Enjoy!

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

It was funny how much one's life could change within moments. You had never thought you would be here, there had been a time where you absolutely refused the thought of hurting your family or your husband, let alone fighting in a war you had been a pawn to stop in the first place. 

And yet, here you were. 

Covered in blood, head to toe, your hair matted and greased in the braid not that anything but bloodstains really showed. Your armor was black, like your father's armor had been, and the banner you stood by was that of blood red. 

There was apart of your mind that screamed for you to stop, to find a way for peace, just as your grandfather requested. But you pushed that thought away as your sword tore across a mans stomach, slashing into his guts and tearing the green banner from his hands. 

This battlefield was yours now. 

“How lovely of you to join me, dear husband.” You laugh, moving up to where he was hidden, ready to jump out and scare you. 

“You take all my fun, wife.” 

“Not all of it, I am sure.” There is a flash of something on his face that you don’t recognize for a moment, both of you just standing there and staring at each other. You debate if he knew someone had told you, and he must be here to explain himself. 

He had to have known the Queen of Whispers sent you a raven on his whereabouts, everything about his affair with Alys Rivers, and your heart began speeding up. 

You would tell him it was fine, if he asked. You would not be mad. Your mother had made you swear to this marriage for peace in the realm, a realm she would be queen of within days. You could not lose it now. 

But he doesn’t confront you, instead he walks up smoothly and places his lips upon yours in the softest of kisses before pulling your forehead to his own and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “How about a dragon ride today? Hmm?”

“I was actually wishing to sit with my grandfather- since he is sick I think it necessary to-” His lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, allowing yourself to melt into his touch some more. The rumors about Alys couldn’t be true, not when he loved you so….. “A dragon ride sounds lovely.”

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, tears on the letter

I vowed not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

He could sense you on the battlefield. As he always sensed when you were near before this. 

It had been an odd trait of his, always knowing where you were lurking and following. Where most people ignored you like a shadow he couldn’t help but see you. You had been his light. 

“I want that Targaryen bitches head!!” A shout behind him has him whirling with his sword until it’s pressed on the man's throat, the sharpness of the blade slicing his neck until blood leaks down his neck. 

“She. Is. Mine.” The man nods , gasping when the blade is taken away as Aemond turns back to the battlefield. 

“She’s announced she wants your head…” Another soldier murmurs, watching your army hit another barrier of his people. 

You want me so badly, wife? Come and get me.

The throne room looked dull and empty, the sunlight barely peeking through what windows were not covered as Aemond stares at the floor before him. 

The guilt was something he never expected. 

It’s not like he wanted to marry you, it had simply been for peace amongst the family, and he already had a relationship with Alys Rivers long before you swore yourself to him. So why shouldn’t he get to keep his love?

So he spent some nights with his mistress and some with you. Only the more time he spent with you the more he craved your presence. It was beginning to wear into his soul. 

And now he stood in the very same throne room he married you in, after spending a night in his mistresses sheets, talking about putting his brother on the throne and betraying the very thing your marriage stood for. The peace treaty. 

“Has it happened?” Alicent asks, a sob raking her body as she turns to the others.  Aemonds own throat tightened up before he felt it. Like a needle entering the small of his spine, hitting the nerves all the way up to his neck, you were close. 

“They killed the beast this morning…” The dragonkeeper murmurs, and Aemond feels like puking. Your dragon, your charming beast had been taken out so you would have no chance of escape, no chance to get back to your mother. 

“Aegon is being bathed right now. And Rhaenys is still deciding in her chambers, though I still think we need to-” Otto begins only for Alicent to scream. 

“WE’VE ALREADY KILLED ONE DRAGON TODAY, THERE WILL BE NO MORE DEATH!”

There is a gasp from the doors and everyone's heads whip around to them, before he can stop himself Aemond is rushing to get to them. But there is nothing there when he opens them. 

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

You think on your grandfather kissing your head the day of your wedding, the heavy veil weighing your head down as you tried not to cry when he whispered a thank you for your sacrifice. Then you thought of your first night with your husband, scared and lonely, wishing you had family when he offered to play chess. 

Oh how you had loved him throughout your marriage, and now….you were gutting anyone who got between you and him on the battlefield. You would make him regret ever crossing your family. 

They forgot Rhaenys, or maybe they didn’t forget her but they thought you would never find out until she had already sided with them. 

You were running through the halls so quickly that your slippers fell off and by the time you got to your great aunts rooms you had a thick layer of sweat covering your body as well as tears. You had sobbed to her as you broke the door down, falling into her when the wood gave out and allowing her to cradle you for a moment before she rushed you to stand again. 

You had no dragon and hers was locked up, so you had to concentrate on what to do next. 

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

He finally sees you from a distance, swinging his sword at a giant coming for him smoothly as he scans you for injuries. A vision covered in blood, your eyes narrowing in on him the second he smiles at you. 

His heart begins to beat through his chest as you step towards him, one step first slowly followed by another before you full blown charge at him. His breath catches as he watches, hand tightening on the sword and his feet preparing for the blow, and for the smallest moment he thinks of letting you kill him. 

Letting you get your vengeance. 

If you had killed his dragon and betrayed his family isn’t that what he would want himself?

“We need to go Aemond.” Otto Hightower snaps, following his grandson through the halls of the keep, a fuming look on his face as he does so .

But Aemond refused to listen, no, he needed to find you before anyone else did. He had to be the one to tell you of what his family had done. The only problem being that no one had seen you. 

Not your maids or your ladies in waiting, not even the castle maids. 

When he tears through your shared apartments he doesn’t see you and the anxiety rising in his chest begins to take over. You knew. You had to have known.

That’s when he sees it, the small parcel you had hidden under a vase of flowers beside your side of the bed. Just the corner had been peeking out and when he tugs on it he finds a letter written to you by the Queen of Whispers. 

There is a cracking feeling in his chest that rises up his neck and into his ears, and all he can see is red.  “Y/N!”

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you

By the time he is within arms reach you are swinging your sword as hard as you can, his own steel hitting yours with a crash before you both draw back and start again. It’s like a dance between you two, one that you haven’t done in years but feels so exhilarating all the same. 

One turn and you slice his arm, only to have him slice your thigh, so you duck and swing upwards. He dodges back and the tip of your sword hits the very tip of his nostril. 

A moment of pride fills you when he takes in a deep breath, pulling your sword in and getting into the proper stance. 

“Is that all you got?” He laughs and you find yourself smirking. 

“I was just getting started.”

“You know, I remember the first night I had you…. You had been so scared I was sure you’d sob the entire-” He knew what he was doing, that much was evident when he blocked your blow with a smirk and retaliated just as quickly. 

Your knees wobble when the force of it sends you back, but you grit your teeth and grab his wrist before he can pull away, trying to wrestle his sword free as he uses his body strength to throw you. 

“There are many people here…” You murmur, ducking behind your veil as your new husband leads you to the dance floor, your hand gripping his own so tightly you feel as though you might break the bones that lie underneath. “I might fall or-”

“Do you not trust that I would keep you upright, my dear ni-wife?”

“You haven’t given me a reason to trust-”

“Then today I shall.” He whispers in your ear before getting ready to start the dance. And you follow his lead, the nerves making you hesitate every step of the way, but soon enough you found your way with Aemond and it no longer mattered who was watching. 

He lifted you and spun you around, a smile on his face that many people gawked at. It was a well deserved smile. 

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back

He has you pinned to the mud below and a snarl written on his face, his back screaming at the amount of pressure he has put on it today but the feeling of satisfaction at you being stuck was far too big to give up now. 

“We can forget this, you and I, just say the words and I’ll let this fit go.” He warns, applying a bit of pressure on your neck to cut off circulation. “By morning you can be on my side and I’ll have maids wash that blood out of your pretty hair. You can be my wife again.”

Something in him is begging you to take the deal, please please please. Please don’t leave me, please don’t make me do this….

He wondered for a moment if you would, seeing the tears well up in your eyes as you struggled to free yourself from his grip. If you would just listen, let him make this right without any of your blood being spilt, he would. 

He would swear himself to you over and over if you gave him another chance. 

The first night he knows he has feelings for you is the first night he turned down Alys, stopping her fingers from touching his pants as he mumbled out an excuse, forehead resting on her shoulder as he pictured your disappointed face. 

He never wished to see that face, and by the time he leaves Alys’ hut he would be sure he never would. 

“It’s been weeks of this Aemond,” She snaps, pulling into herself as he reaches for his leather tunic. “You said you married her to make your father happy, a death wish.”

“I did.”

“Then what is this-”

“I DON’T KNOW!” He screams, whirling on her. In truth he didn’t know what was happening, all he knew was you were left there, in the halls of the red keep as he was out there betraying you. 

You had made a vow and kept to it, why couldn’t he?

“I thought you hated basta-” Alys begins her sentence with tears in her eyes before he is upon her, blue eye sparkling in the candlelight. 

“Maybe you cursed me then.” It’s a spit in the face, the nail in the coffin as she reaches to slap him. The sound echoes across the room as his head snaps to the side, his cheek stinging from the pain and it takes everything in him not to retaliate. 

He had to get to you, none of this mattered anymore. 

To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

If you agreed he would fly you away to a remote island, just the two of you. He would find you another dragon egg and grow you a garden. Nothing would ever harm you again. 

He sent a quick prayer up to the gods for this before a sharp feeling is sliding between his ribcage, the cold of your dagger meeting his skin like a cool kiss on a heat ragged day. 

He doesn’t really comprehend it, just grunts out in pain and loosens his hold on you to lean back, his hands flying up to see what damage had been done. 

“nO.” He gasps out, eyes flying to where you are in the mud. 

If he was scared in this moment he had no clue what you were, eyes wild as you sob, your chest rising and falling with every short breath you take. 

“KILL HER!” Someone calls, and for a second all Aemond can think to do is crawl to you. Ignoring the pain in his side as he removes his bloody hands from it, he makes his way to you, bringing one hand up to your cheek as an arrow marks through you. 

Your body shudders as it pierces from your back to your stomach, sliding right into Aemonds own stomach where he has wrapped his body around yours. If death was to greet him today then he would be sure not to be separated from you. 

Soldiers charged in at once and you let out a couple more sobs, and he found himself whispering in your ear “Just a second of pain, and we’ll be free.”

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

I vowed I would always be yours

Alicent buries you both together, a black veil over her head, her hands bound by rope with Cregan Stark keeping her close. 

This would be her final day outside, for the rest of her days would be in a tower, no freedom and no allies. 

She yearns for her children, and she yearns for her dear old friend, looking at the grass growing from the burnt earth surrounding your grave. 

Yes, she thinks while allowing the tears to fall, you both would be together after the war.

[dema-heart]

Persephone & Hades

Persephone gn!reader x Hades Hobie

Spring is here, and with it, persephone must leave the underworld.

I tried to keep it gender neutral. There is the use of the terms goddess and queen when referring to the reader. However, it's more in title than actual feminine meaning.

CW: Mentions of ichor and selfharm very briefly.

"I'll be leaving you soon, my heart," you whisper the words into the shadows. Knowing he'll hear you. Knowing he's always with you as long as shadow and shade can reach you.

You're leaning against the wooden frame of your gazebo over looking your kingdom, your chosen home, the underworld. You smile, looking out at the vast dark lands lightened by the homes of your people.

Shadows nip at your fingers and trail up your arms before the feeling of your lover's warmth wraps around you.

"I know... I know, my world." his rapsy voice was laced with sadness, but his silky touch was a welcome comfort to the cold, although you'd grown accustomed to it.

"Persephone..." Hearing your name pulls your focus to him, Hades, king of the underworld or as you called him.

"Hobie, my love," you turn in his embrace, looking into his saddened eyes. Raising a hand to rest on his cheek, you smile as the fearsome king leans into your touch, eyes closing in content.

"When do you leave?" He places a kiss to your palm, sighing as he forces the words from his mouth.

"Not long from now." You give a sad smile as you watch your love's face drop. "Hermes will be here to escort me back to the mortal realm soon."

Sighing, his hand comes to rest on yours against his cheek, cupping it gently before pulling it away enough to place another kiss to your palm, then soft pecks to each of your fingertips. A shiver racks your body, and he peaks at you from the corner of his eye, mischief lighting up his face.

"We could always stage a kidnapping. I'll lock the doors and tell them I've decided to keep the goddess of spring all to myself. Any who dare attempt to get you will have to face the wrath of the underworld." He smirks, and the shadows of the land seem to flicker and roar with agreement.

You shake your head with a playful smile as he steps back, not letting go of your hand, bowing as if asking for a dance.

Laughing softly, you bowed back, allowing him to pull you to him with a twirl.

"We'll change your clothes and sneak you out the back before Pavitr arrives. Take you further into the realm where there's a small house waiting for just us." You laugh in glee as he dips you, the shadows around you whiping up as if to catch you.... or maybe swallow you up and hide you just as their king wishes. You lean your head back with a bright smile and unconsealed laughter, allowing the shadow's cool, wispy embrace to surround you. Letting them know they are seen and your joy is as much for them as it is their king, before Hobie pulls you up, holding you tight, as the shadows disperse, a hum of happiness in the once sullen air.

"Or we can sneak up to the human realm. where you can grow vast gardens and capture the heart of every living creature that comes by with your kindness and grace." There's a playful smirk on his face as he looks down at you.

"Which will it be your higness. At your command, I'll make it so." His tone is playful, but there is an underlying threat.

You know if you say you never wish to go anywhere without him, that your body aches at the thought of leaving him for these six months, he'd make it to where you never had to leave again even if it meant defying Zeus and all the other gods.

Your eyes lock as he waits for your answer. His gaze giving away his need for you, the same need and longing you're sure shows in yours. But instead of sealing your fates, you smile up at your king sweetly.

"It may have worked once, my king, but I do quite enjoy the mortals alive as much fun as they are when they get down here. And just as we need one another, my mother needs me." Your hands bunch the front of his tunic to pull him into a passionate kiss.

He obliges, leaning down slightly, letting you kiss away his sorrows for at least the moment.

Pulling back from the kiss, you step away from him, holding his hands now instead as you smile up at him.

"Hobie, my heart. Just a ichor flows through my veins. Your name is engraved in my heart. For my love for you is endless and always. For you allowed only once for tears to claw down my cheeks, for the golden blood in my veins to boil so hot with trepidation that even the sharpest thorns burned as they tangled around me, frenzied in my attempts to free myself from the anguish. You watched as Ichor bubbled from my skin and pooled in my hands like molten lava burning and poisoning everything in its wake, and you made me a queen, your queen. Took me against my will only to show me a freedom I'd never even dreamed of. You saw me for not what I was but who I could be, and for that, I will return to you in just six months. For that, I will always return to the place I now call home and the man who made it so."

You make this vow to him the same as you have done before. Tears pooling in your eyes that you refuse to let drop. You are not saddened to return above, missing the sun and those you called family, but to leave behind your heart to the cruel loneliness that comes with being king of the dead, a title not taken but forced.

You hold back a sigh, feeling him squeeze your hands. You open your eyes, not even realizing you had closed them.

One of his hands comes up swiping away your tears before they had the chance to drop.

"Persephone, my world. You have the ability to turn the darkest shades a blaze. The coldest places warm. And you are my own personal sun. You shined your light across our realm and showed me a world I'd never seen before. Just as one plucks a pretty flower, I saw you that day as tears streaked your face and anguish soured your soul but still your head was held high even as ichor drizzled your arms like honey, for the first time I'm sure. And I knew you had to be mine. If not, then at least my kingdom's for you deserved a status befitting the power you displayed in your darkest moment. I will forever be grateful you took the Pomegranate seeds from the fruit I bore, even if it was just due to hunger. Without you and the love you bring, I'd have been lost in the darkest corners of my kingdom, never to see what could have become of it. You will always have a home here...for everything, including myself, belongs to you here."

A passionate tension fills the air around you. It is as if only the two of you exist in this moment. Fingers entwined the same way your souls are. You hold each others gaze, neither willing to break the tranquil moment.

"Awwwwwwww, aren't you two just the cutest! Almost makes me sad to separate you buuuuut i am the messenger god, and my message just so happens to come in the form of the goddes of spring to one waiting and sorrowful mother!" Pavitr playful voice cuts the tension in the air with ease. He sits on the ledge you'd been looking out on, smiling brightly as you both turn to him with amused looks.

Hobie huffs, slipping from your grips to greet his friend with a playful shove before pulling him into a hug. "Pav, always good to see you."

Hobie playfully looks back at you before stage, whispering to Pavitr. "How much to get you to leave Persephone here and swear you never saw them. I mean also being known as the god of tricksters...." He's got his arm over Pavitr's shoulder, both facing you with matching grins as Pav pretends to think on it.

You shake your head, smiling at their antics. "Come now, Pav. Before the King gets us in trouble." You reach out your hand, and Pav is quick to fall into step with you looping your arms as you lead the way.

"Sorry sir, but an orders an order, and I could never reject a request from the goddes of spring, almighty ruler of the underworld. As you know, what Persephone wants..." Pavitr teases snickering along with you as you look at Hobie expectantly.

"...Persephone gets. yes, I know. I'm the one who started that." Hobie rolls his eyes with a fond smile, as you beam standing tall with mock arrogance before walking away with elegance, leaving behind the echos of your laugher and the smell of fresh floral earth.

Just as you leave his view and the shadows seem to darken, he feels the gentle caress of something winding up his arms, and the smell of flowers and fresh spring air surrounds him the same way the shadows had comforted you.

He looks down to see thin, leafy vines curled around his forearms similar to the arm cuffs he typically wears. Smiling as the scent of home surrounds him, he disappears into the shadows of the gazebo already anticipating your return.

[alalaya2]

Tim Drakes sleeping habits save the earth

Part 8 The beginning of the storm

Ellie was asleep on clockworks lap, covered in bandages. There was not much for them to do but hurry up and wait until they were needed. Frostbite was watching the three different groups Clockwork had pulled up on his portable viewing Mirrors. The yetis face was a cross between anger at the GIW and joy that his friend Lazarus had returned. Lazarus had been a good friend they had grown up together with Undergrowth, Vortex, Nocturne,Clockwork, and Morrigan. The 7 of them had rained holy terror on the Realms growing up. To young, to powerful and to board they explored the infinite realms making Friends, enemies and new Discoveries along the way. They Learned and made mistakes but they were all together. Through thick and thin they remained good friends and grew into their powers, gained mantles and responsibility.

Things were Bright and Joyful Lazarus had done the impossible and United the Realms into one kingdom, Clockwork had taken the mantle of time keeper, Nocturne became the Guardian or Dreams, Vortex was the Crazy Trouble maker of the group was learning to control the weather. Undergrowth was working to grow things for the Green, Frostbite had taken over the far Frozen from his father and Morrigan, sweet little Morrigan who could get the six most stubborn people in the universe to behave had become a goddess of Death and had Married Lazarus.

They had kept in touch giving each other advice and helping one another everyone in the realm had been happy to learn Morrigan had become pregnant with twins. Haroldas Fright knight and Lady Pala Gotham had been born with much fanfare and were little Terrors gowning up but the birth had not been and easy one and Inanna had never quite been the same after their birth. She fought so hard but by the time the Twins were in their teens Morrigan had started to fade, and so came to pass the first Phantom Queen of the Infinite Realms. Morrigan Stayed but it was a near thing he was finally starting to heal when Dark Parish had started to rise to power. His obsession was power he had created a ring that amplified his anger and started to take over the kingdom territories at an alarming rate. Finally he attacked Lazarus and would have killed him if Clockwork hadn't intervened.

Clockwork grinned, it was not a nice or happy grin. He showed to many teeth and it stretched in a way that would make anything living want to run. It was a feral your going down with me grin. Frostbite saw it out of the corner of his and and responded in a Matching grin their group of friends were no longer as close together with their tethers (Morrigan and Lazarus) gone but some things don't change. Frostbite looked at his old Friend and his almost Grand Nieces. "I recognize that grins Gears what do you see?"

"My Sister Morrigan is Returning and Danny is my Son I gave him my ectoplasam when he turned into a true Halfa. Ellie is coming into her powers as a Goddess of Life, Travel, and a Guardian or Mirror Born's Danny is the Balance and space. Death is needed and she is not Happy about what has happened to her younger co Gods and Nibling."

Frostbite gave a harsh laugh "They are in for it now maybe she can straiten out Vortex and Undergrowth?"

"Before or after she finds out what they did and kills them?

Both looked back at the screens and watches Lady Gotham Preen like a happy cat at Alfred taking care of her. "Should I be worried?" asked Frostbite.

"No he is a good man and he will treat her well when he becomes a Ghost."

Frostbite blinks in surprise and a little worried "he becomes a Ghost?"

"yes one of the few who will become on no mater how he dies he is going to be a ghost he will have a duel Time and shadow core."

"A TIME CORE! but your the only know time core in the last 20,000 years"

"Yes he will help me watch the time lines with hero's he will be family after all and he will be instrumental in helping Phantom recover."

"How?"

"Alfred is going to be powerful he is already getting echos form his future powers. There is a reason nobody wants to mess with Alfred."

Frostbite decided he didn't want to know and turned his attention to a different Mirror. "Do you think that Pandora and Fright will Finally get together Gears?"

Clockwork gowned and facepalmed "Not without outside interference, I am so close to putting them in a an time loop until they get their act together. For two of our top tacticians they are not very emotion smart and they are Born ghost."

"Its only been a thousand years" Frostbite teased.

"They are more emotionally constipated than Batman without therapy." Clockwork flinched all teasing wiped from his face. "They have started to experiment on Danny I am blocking part of the bond to Ellie."

Frostbite became serious again "I know you can't tell me about what is to come but if I list off some equipment can you tell me if I don't need it?"

"Go for it Little Bite"

"I"m Four times Bigger than you Gears!"

"Yet you still call me Gears!"

First Previous Ao3 Next

[widowsofchaos]

Spit Blossoms

summary: hell has no fury like it’s rageful majesty. pairing: hades!bucky x persephone!black!reader ao3 // ballad lores from the crypt masterlist warnings: 18+, intense character death, ruthless darkness, smidge of angst, dark character moment, angry filthy smut, jealous Persephone --- haha, we’re in danger. a/n: based on the myth of Minthe, who was in love with Hades --- many twisted retellings, and various versions, but truly, Hades would never stray from Persephone, and that’s just fucking facts. Kindred spirits for eternity. Persephone isn’t just a docile goddess, she feeds off the darkness, she rules it. Queen of the underworld for a reason. Do not repost my works, you will be reported.

Underneath the pureness of a floral maiden, who controls the splendor of spring to her will ---- deep in the crevices of her spirit, resides inky darkness.

Even by the echoes of delicate footfalls, jolts shudders of fear throughout the hellish realm. The dreary eyes of decrypted renaissance paintings that canvas the castle walls watch it’s majesty flee.

Fury swirls akin to restless wet eels slithering upon her weeping heart, soft fingers curl into fists --- leaving a trail of fire in her wake, whisking herself away to hide in her quarters.

Desperate hoarse shouts of her name, and hasty steps pierces another crack at her heart --- her name bounces against the luxurious onyx marbling pavements, a hymn within the stretched crafted hallway; ghoulish help scour away in the shadows, parting from their majesty akin to the red sea.

Her heart thumps wildly against the cavity, swallowing a sob down to her tight throat. Chin wobbles, but held high in the air, defying the urge to crumble into nothingness among any prying eyes.

Open-palms thud against the massive wooden doors to the grand bedroom, loudly the hinges swing.

An luxurious chamber, walls painted inky black, carved marbling, resembling an ancient cathedral. The marital bed encased in a transparent canopy curtains,

A tender snarl, fingers tug at her tresses ends down her chest, a slight burn at the scalp, huffs of air --- ‘the nerve of that pórni. Claims to possess the affections of my king.’

Shakingly her marital palm comes to her weary gaze, holding it, fingertips fondling the sparkling crimson ruby, the opulent ring carved with skull flowers, and his vows of forever love engraved inside the slope of the ring --- instinctively, brings the ring to her lips, kissing it, as tears water her knuckles.

“My heart, please.” A gruff cry lingers near the doorway, startled feet hastily squeak against the floor, a gasp leaves his wet lips, chest heaving, heart beating anxiously.

Tresses disheveled, curled ends behind his ears. There, standing coolly at the closet is his love, his only love rummaging for spare clothes that slung over her fore-arm, his eyes widened, spring fabric --- she’s leaving.

“Spring will come early this year.” A hiss, a wet sniffle.

“NO.” He roars, it bounces against the castle’s walls, no doubt, all of the underworld hears his cries. Stomping towards her, he rips the spring green fabric from her hands, flings the torn silk, and cotton overhead, not caring where it lands.

Her palms fly up against her chest, a defensive stance, “No worries, that filthy little nymph can warm your cold heart.” Cautiously, her heels click backwards, nearing the wall, not wanting to feel his warmth --- if she does, she’ll melt, fall back into his arms; but that’s what she yearns for.

Even in a tiny space of separation, two spirits weep --- a tiny breath of death.

“You will not leave me to rot alone for another few months, you just got back.” His voice cracks, oceanic hues glassy, nose scrunched.

His palms itch to touch her flesh, soft flesh, bask in her glow, her light that radiates in waves --- how only her presence has thawed the icy frost of his dead heart.

Centuries of eternal marital bliss, an unbreakable bond, deep-rooted trust, now being questioned by the presence of an ex-lover, tears kiss his lashes, ‘How little does she think of me for her to easily slip into the madness of jealousy?’

But then again --- how many decapitated heads have he rolled down the grand stairs of his hellish manor, how many souls has he banished to the darkest pits, for just merely glancing at his queen?

“Stay back, Hades.” She bites back with a weak sneer, eyes shine wet --- a murky flurry of mixed emotions battle heavily on her mind, to scratch him yet caress him, to bite him yet to kiss him, to fight him yet her flesh desires to make-love right there on the chilled marbled floor.

He scoffs, eyes wide --- shines wetly back at hers, not even his mortal pseudonym James, nor Bucky; once it irate him when his immortal comrades jokingly called him those names to tease, and jab, instead of referring him by his title.

But once she tenderly she said those silly names, as if a holy hymn, suddenly those names no longer held such bitterness.

“Hades, huh?” Bucky repeats, a timbre of disbelief, his voice drips an octave lower, risking another step towards her, “That’s your name, is it not?” She deadpans, her eyes narrowed into slits, the slope of her button nose scrunches, as her shoulder-blades meet the wall.

He hissed her human name, “Don’t get fucking cheeky.” Bucky hisses, his bearded moue twitch, hunching over now akin to a snarling beast --- he will be damned to let her return to the earthly realm, for her to disregard him as such.

“It’s Persephone, you will address me as such. Not my mortal name.” Her plump breasts heave a bit against the tied corset, sombre and scarlet; a crafted macabre dress fit for a queen, an ode to her king.

The slick ebon hue that adorns her lids, resembles the crafty lashes of a feline --- sharp, and alluring.

Such morbid colors drape her bronze skin, rich brown flourishes. Bucky clicks his tongue, his face morphs with a smirk curling, chuckling to himself.

“We’re beyond formalities, my queen. Especially since my cock knows how velvety sweet your cunt is.”

“Don’t be so vulgar.” The clicks of her heels skitter, and fumble against the flooring, the skin of her back sticking against the pavement, chastising herself for how her mound soaks within seconds --- that filthy mouth of his spell bounds her.

“You love it. I can already smell you.” Bucky growls, resembling a beast, the raw form of a grotesque God, but even in that being, she loves him so --- physically and emotionally.

Closer now, menacing crystalline hues shadowed under a brow.

“Stay back.” She repeats once more, but her voice trembles, nostrils still flaring, brows furrowing pitifully, “Don’t get close to me. If I catch your scent, or even feel your touch --- I’ll ---” Breathy gasp.

Spidery fingers laxly flutter, ‘you’ll what?’ Bucky teases under his breath --- closer now. Caging her, forbidding her from any escape, his pulsating arms stretch, and his thick hands pin beside her head, rumbling with desire.

Featherily lips peck her forehead, his breathing a bit harder now, fanning her scalp; her pupils roll to the back of her skull.

As if his touch is a balm. Stroking the tip of his nose against coils of curls, inhaling her natural scent, crushed rose petals, “I’m not like my brothers, I will never stray from my beloved.” Such affirmations breathe upon her hairline lovingly.

The thread snaps.

Soft palms swiftly cup his jaw, desperate, her breathing heavy, standing on the tips of her toes to reach his pout; lips smashing against his, breathy gnarls, wet tongues dance and flutter between open lips, gnashing teeth, muffled moans.

His hands dash, and fondle upon her bodice, sneaking from the curve of her waist, to the slope of the tailbone, kneading her bum through the dress --- bundling the fabric between his fingers.

Frenzied, he grips, fingers digging into her skin, a quick swat, the rings adorning his fingers sent a shiver up the crevices of her spine; groping, and squeezing possessively.

Oval nails wove within the locks, gently caressing his scalp, a flow of endless moan rolls from his throat; a sweet tug at the roots.

Pulling her lips away from his, he scoffs, displeased to be disconnected from her lips; Bucky growls and bites at her chin, she hushes him.

Fingers leisurely massaging, his eyes dilated, nearly rolling in his head. Her pearly canines twinkle, her face hairs away from his, coddling nose to nose, how pleasant his weight leans upon hers; limbs entangled.

“Kneel before your queen.” A hot whisper, a sly smirk forms upon his jaw, with ease Bucky’s knees bends down to the floor, sliding down, sitting himself right between her open legs.

Bucky clicks his tongue tauntingly, and can feel her heat wafting. No panties --- no need, never.

Christening every surface of this manor is a daily ritual --- the walls, the floor, the dining table, the seat of his throne  --- that’s Bucky’s favorite spot, he feels power swell through his spirit, and cock; as he sits upon his royal chair, his love’s precious jewel split and wet upon his dick.

“If you love me --- beg like the hellhound you are.” Massaging his shoulders under her soothing palms, squeezing just a bit, reminding him to remain on his knees.

“Cold woman --- you would do anything for me to be at your feet.” The silver rings deliciously glides against her skin, as his fingers snuck under the hem of the dress, looping his tips through the black fishnets, a clean rip pierces through the air --- shredded pieces fly through the air, a sting radiates behind, but pain and pleasure … It's their love language.

“But my love, isn’t this your favorite position?” Her fingers grip at his chestnut tresses, as her palm fondles his dimpled chin lovingly, how delicious his beard stubble prickles against the pad of her thumb.

Bucky’s pink moist tongue slithers and curves between his lips, a hot grunt fans against her bare leg, her thigh quivers, moaning salaciously by the throat.

A wet glide of the tongue against the meat of her thigh, not once his eyes waver from hers --- a breathy gasp, sucking through her canines.

Traveling the terrain of supple flesh, along the path of her inner thigh, her heat warms his redden cheeks, lips suckling right at her pulse point, as the cup of his hand cradles her thigh.

He loves how her hips reflexively lift, just to hold her still, under his grip --- his lips halt, just mere hairs away from the slick hickey, faint hue of lavender blooming.

Tracing the line of her shin, down the smooth glide to her ankle, rubbing the arch of her foot tenderly --- fingertips caress featherlight on the sensitive skin back and forth, igniting a fire in her veins; how her heart swells at the sight of him kneeling at her feet, as if a devote at an alter, whispering her name as a holy prayer --- the orchestration of such euphoric devotion.

“For you, my heart --- I’ll crawl through hell-fire.”

Wordlessly, Bucky dives head-first within her mound, with an animalistic growl, his hands cupping her ass, holding her in place as he feasted upon her cunt. Eyes roll back, lashes flutter, a whining moan bubbles.

Hips grind against his flat tongue, slurping her wet lips between his slick mouth, flickering her pulsating clit with his tongue --- feathery fast flicks, driving her mind to lustful madness.

Oceanic hues glaring into her hazel orbs, her sepia skin glistens, and glows akin to gold by the lit candles, basking a halo over her heavenly bodice --- a ‘mmm hmph’ groan vibrates from his spilt mouth, knowing his love is close to the brink.

His girth hardens within his pants, at the mere sight of his wife trembling by his touch. Fingernails scratching at the skin, ache intermixing in the waves of pleasure.

A god on his knees, but she’s the one who he worships.

Bruises bloom in lavender hues --- his wet tongue licks her slick, her plump lips split upon his mouth, as his lips devoured her mound --- so soft, and slick.

The slick of her soppy cunt echoes against Bucky’s pink tongue, pierces through the dense silence, a debauched cadence that spurs her lover, his growing cock drips, and stains his trousers.

Broken whines bubbles at her throat, one palm gripping her hair --- coiling curls tightly woven between her spidery fingers, as the other found refuge in Bucky’s hair, tips massaging and scratching his scalp.

Dull sting left in the wake of her nails, it only fuels the fire in his loins. Pain and pleasure --- there is no difference, the two sides of a coin.

Eyes pinched shut, almost there, close to the edge, her hips grinding wildly against his mouth, hair tousled. Choppy pants, airy, gasping, with tears trickling down her cheeks.

Bucky halts, his fingers digging, and pausing her waist, the pads of his thumbs caressing her hip-bones.

“Bucky …” A wet, weak snarl, with pitiful eyes glaring at him; sucking her bottom lip as a weepy toddler. “Look at me,” Bucky rasps, pupils blown, her slick drips, and coats his beard with a shine, softly kisses her weak inner thigh, a sticky kiss mark, “I wanna see you, my love.”

A submissive nod, her eyes dazed, and cloudy; lips parted in a tiny dreamy smile. Even through the hazy cloud, she knows what he implies, oh she knows --- many times has she begged to see his eyes as he comes undone.

Even after many centuries of being together, the mere sight of seeing each other undone, staring into each other’s soul is beautiful.

His lips suckle her clit once more, an exhaled breath heaves from her lips, her chin wobbles. Nerves alit, her Venus belt tightens, and grinds wildly on Bucky’s mouth, his growls vibrate against her cunt; his growls become animalistic, purely primal.

More intense as her whines become higher pitched. Bucky’s head shakes from side to side, suckling her clit, snarling as a wolf devouring its feast.

Ungodly scream of his name, shrills and echoes. This feeling in their chests, it’s love, a limb-loosener, it rattles to the morrow. Tears flood her eyes, squirts of her cum dribbles from the corners of his lips, dripping off his stubble cheeks.

Skin a flamed, caressing his beard against her inner thigh, lips parted, his moist tongue licks, savoring her softness, always so soft; a delicious burn that will make her ache for days.

Heavy breaths, her chest heaves, hoarse throat --- an irritable beast swirls deep in her gut, her deep burgundy tip traces his sharp jawline, beckoning his gaze to hers. Bucky purrs at her dilated pupils, as well as his.

“I need to feel you.” She sultry whispers, her thumb glides sweetly against his wet bottom lip, sneaking inside his mouth; his canines nibble her thumb, the tip of his tongue flicks.

Smooches softly the pad of her thumb, without hesitation, Bucky scrambles to his feet, his cock still hard and swollen.

His fingers grips the curve of her neck, cupping the nape of her neck, his rings jolt a chill upon her warm skin; tasting and smelling her own nectar from his tongue. Her sweet essence tasted of the finest ambrosia, sticky honey of spring.

Deep kisses that left even Bucky light-headed, always needing his wife like air. “My sweet sunflower,” another kiss, “I could never betray you.”

Bucky spoke huskily, lips wisp against lips, “I am yours, just as you are mine.” Her pillowy lush lip trapped between his teeth, sucking, dragging.

“You’re mine.” The words trembled from her lips, almost a sob, as the tips of their noses fondle together, mouths parted, breathing each other’s essence. Bucky bashfully nods, with a sweet bleary smile, a flicker of darkness sparks in her glassy eyes. He pleads, “Say it again.”

“You’re mine.” One of her palms travels from his bicep, to his side of his torso, to his thick thigh, to the swollen cock that weeps. A handful of his manhood, massive and throbbing against her fingers, earning a growl.

“All mine.” She hisses once more, a grin, all fangs. Snarling as an irritable beast, Bucky whimpers pitifully at her saccharine affirmations of eternal love, “Body, and soul.” Rubbing cheek to cheek, scenting each other, just skin to skin.

“Make love to me. Ravish me, fucking use me.” Bucky whispers by the shell of her ear, but it’s husky, wanton --- desperate. Wet bee-stung lips nibble, and kiss his dimpled chin, split lips suck, her tongue flickers; the sensation of stubble hairs tickle the pink muscle.

Limbs entangled, slippery tongues twirl, and dance; Bucky cleverly diving his hands under her ass, fingers digging into the supple skin harshly, she hisses at his touch.

Curling her legs around his waist, her fingers interlocking at the nape of his neck. Steady steps ingrained by muscle memory, walking to the bed, ceremonially he lays her down.

Love-stricken eyes bore into his, fingers stretch and flex out for him; hast palms tug at his collar, buttons pop and fly, never once did his eyes leave her.

Unveiling his chest, strong and muscled --- how godly his chest illuminates by the dim lit candles, the flourish bleeds maroon upon his chest hair as the ichor from the pits of his father’s belly.

“So beautiful,” Bucky whispers, shedding the fine cotton from his shoulders, glides down his toned arms, “Let me see you.”

Daintily, and teasingly, her hands fondle the skin of her breasts, untying the silk strings that are woven within the corset’s hooks; gracefully her breasts heave from the bodice flaps, perky and succulent.

A heat stirs deep in her belly at the sound of his belt, leaning her torso up just a bit to toss the loose corselet, not caring where it landed; as Bucky unzipped his pants, his fingers sneaking into the unbuttoned trousers, slowly and tortuously palming his thick girth, panting low.

The tip of her pink tongue licks her upper lip leisurely, craving to taste his cock.

The flickering candle lights dance upon her bronze skin, voluminous amber shines the room; eyeing her brown nipples, his hands dive to pinch and twist. A pained whine, her head falls back in satisfaction, a crooked grin forms on Bucky’s face, humming low.

Bending her legs around his waist, arching feet snagged at his loose pants, toes flex and grip the hem; pulling it downward, letting it pool at his ankles.

Proudly his cock hung high, pulsating, thick, and dripping wet. She growls weakly, fingers reaching and pawing at the bobbing dick. Without any word, Bucky rips her bottom dress, the fluffy layers strewn in small pieces, excited grunts, his canines bearing.

Biting her lip, she gazes at him lovingly, as he steps out of his pants, crawling over her, his shoulders flexing tauntingly, steel eyes and chestnut tresses kiss his lashes --- two lovers bare, and vulnerable.

Her eyes are soft, and sheens glassy. Beaming doe eyes, lashes flutter, how she lays spread eagle underneath him, gleaming as if she was still virginal, yet still so pure.

It's like their honeymoon all over again, all those centuries ago. Innocence radiated, perfumed skin of crushed flowers, soft petaled kisses, how she held his battered body tenderly, opened up to him as a wet flower.

Yet --- she took all of him that night, where his true form sprouted, and ravaged her body. His wings hugged her, as he made love to her; how her fingers fondled his horns. It was that night, where he discovered something inside of her, something dark --- there’s much more to her spirit than just spring flowers, and humility.

He brought forth a darkness from her, cracked open her heart, and saw a goddess of

That darkness flickers a flame once more in her eyes.

“My heart, tell me what you want.” Huskily he spoke, his lips featherly grazing hers, not fully giving in.

“You know what I want.” She moans, nuzzling her nose against his.

“I want to hear you say it,” A kiss on her nose, “Moan it for me.” Bucky encased his arms around her head, her curls tickling his skin.

“I want you to touch me.” She spoke in the crock of his neck, kissing right under his ear. Her ass lifts off the bed, grinding her wet mound against his cock. Melting bodies, limbs fondling, her nails digging into his back --- Bucky knows exactly what she wants.

He clicks his tongue, “No,” he drags, “I know you too well, there’s something you want.” He nibs her cheek, with a kiss. Panting, pawing at Bucky’s shoulder-blades, whining, he has the nerve to laugh.

Bashfully, she hides her face in the arch of his neck, but the fire within her roars louder now, he can feel her rage, love, and possession sweat off her skin.

“Even after all these years, you’re still so shy.” Bucky teases, kissing her temple, “Tell your dear husband what you want.” He whispers, demanding for her to speak. “What is it? Do you want me underneath you, quivering?” Teases her with his lips, she leans in for a kiss, but he pulls away smugly.

“Yes.” She cries.

“What else?” He probes teasingly.

She bites his shoulder, her fiery snark returns, his eyes flutter closed, groaning in pleasure, “There she is.” This is what he wants too, to be broken down, for her to screw him senseless, possessing him entirely.

He knows her jealousy is still rearing its ugly head, a tiny monster spewing lies that maybe he’s finally tired of her after all these years.

Never.

He will destroy Heaven and Earth just for her.

Bucky rolls himself on his back, pulling his wife on top of himself, her fingers treading in his chest hair; gulping back the tightness in her throat, scratching her nails down his chest.

“You want to be used? For me to fuck you, my love? To ride you, make you empty your balls inside me?” She twirls her venus belt slowly, grinding herself on himself, how her velvety folds glide against the veins of his throbbing cock.

“Yes.” Bucky hisses, his head tilting back against the mattress, his hands clutching onto her hips, guiding her, soaking his cock with her wetness. “My love, all I want is you.”

Her fingers sweetly cup his throat, firmly but not harshly, leaning down, her lips catching his. Plump and wet, murmuring between kisses, Bucky relishing in being handled by her hand.

The moisture of her desire shines, thin strings of her essence connects with his pubic hair, Bucky nearly howls torturously at the now leisure pace, “Please, fuck me. Let me worship you, as you should be.” Lifting herself up by the knees, legs still split wide for him, feline eyes gawk him --- sharp and possessive.

Her wet lips shine, her cunt welcoming his hung cock --- how obscene he splits her open, such debauched moans erupts unison. Swallowing him whole, sitting down taking him inch by inch. Knees softly graze against the silk sheets, as she descends upon his torso.

A hoarse groan flows from Bucky at the warmth of her mound, how plump it sits against his pelvis, his thick pubic hair tickling her cunt --- it’s erotic yet tender how her tuft of curls, and his sleek hair creates such a soft sensation. Damp with their essence, creates a melody.

She bounces aggressively on his cock, a surge of heat flows through her veins, her hips thrash back and forth with vigor; sending her husband into a maddening frenzy.

The bed creaks a bit from the intensity of two bodies crashing and melding into one, the headboard nearly thumping against the wall pavement.

Huffs and pants pierce the silence, as her fingers clench just a bit tighter, his fingertips stroke the dimples at the end of her spine; whispering under choppy breaths, ‘harder, you know I can take it.’

More like need it, to feel her grip as she bounces on his cock. Her fucking him --- taking him apart from piece to piece.

Her lips spilt into a wicked crescent moon, the dim candle light illuminating it. Such naughty thoughts run rampant in her pretty head, biting down on his lip; a shiver runs up Bucky’s spine at the sheer devious beast above him that he is blessed to call his wife.

A little jolt of her hips makes him sob, eyes pinching shut once more, Bucky growls ‘again, please again.’

Her ass jiggles from her frenzied bodice, clenching him once more tightly, that strings a cracked boyish moan, high-pitched; his head perks up, his messy loose tresses bounce as his eyes get watery.

Pretty pink mouth parted open, gasping, as he watched her still her hips, roll it teasingly in circular motion, teasing him, tugging him to the edge, but yet never over.

“Yes,” his lips quivering, jaw slack, overcome with emotion how memorizing she hovers over him, how good the gushy walls of her feels wrapped around him.

“So beautiful, my love,” she croons, and his heart swells with pride, “Doing so good.” How proud she is at his restraint, to keep his hands at waist-level, to not let the beast within him unleash itself upon her, to take control, how steady his pelvis is.

Her fingers find solace in his hair, grips it, and pulls his head back a bit; as her other palm still holds firm at his throat.

Owlish eyes, wet and docile, gazes at her with such gentility --- as if he was once a youth, before the hardened shell of a god regurgitated from the fiery pits of his father; pure, he looks pure, and trusting.

How marvelous --- the only soul to break down Hades himself, to shattered pieces, “So good for me,” her voice lowers kindly, eased on lust, he tries to catch her lips as she leans over him, but she holds him still, shushing his whimpering.

“Good boy, so good for me.” Beads of tears flow down his cheeks, watering his beard, foreheads connect, “Say it for me.” She pleads, picking up the pace of her hips now, more earnest, needy.

“I’m yours.”

She hisses now, “Again, say it again!” Her breath fans his face, but he gladly breathes it in. “I’m -- argh -- yours!” Flashes of a certain nymph prancing around her manor, claiming her space, and ill attempts to claim her soulmate as hers --- it drives her mad.

A fire at her throat now, urges to say more now, profanities and such filth of her lover. Arching her back just a little as a preening feline, her head wanes back, wild curls flies and bounces, at such bliss of his throbbing cock pulsating; as if her cavity splits open, and wild orchids bloom.

He licks his lips, salivating at the mere sight of her tits --- jiggling in his face. Huffing, his head leaning up for his mouth to latch on her nipples, soft brown nipples.

Bucky’s tongue flickers, trying to lick her breast, whining. She notices in midst of her haze, a devious smirk, she tsks him, “What?” She plays coy. “Would you like some?” As she gropes and pinches her breast, taunting him.

“Hm?” She probes, teasing him as she pinches her nipple tightly between her finger tips, jiggling it in the cup of her palm.

Bucky nearly sobs, “Yes, please. I beg you, my love.” She rides him harder, faster, driving him to the brink. Leaning forward, she tenderly lets Bucky latch upon her breast, like a rabid dog, sucking and biting.

She moans at the sensation of his tongue swirling, lapping at her nipple. Saliva slicks her flushed flesh, vulgar slurps, she whines in delight.

Eyes pinched shut, cradling his head with her hand, her fingers caressing his scalp, as his wet cock thrusts deeper and deeper in her cunt.

His hips crash against hers, his wet balls slapping her clenching asshole --- soaking, and puckering. A melody of skin slapping against skin echoes against the walls, his fingers tightly gripping her waist.

The noises her cunt is making is obscene, sticky precome clings to the skin of his cock, pumping erratically.

Her back is sweaty now, some strands cling to the dew, as such her baby hairs to her forehead; his hair clings to his face as well. The sheets crumple now, a few corners now strewn off from the covers.

“Gods --- look how your pussy just drools over my dick,” an airy laugh from Bucky, his eyes flickering from steel blue to vermilion that glows within the candlelight, “My queen, how insatiable you are.”

One hand scrambles for her thigh, his thumb fondling the skin, an unspoken promise, that he’s here, always there.

Almost there --- nearly tumbling over the edge, the coil is tightening, ready to snap. United beat of sex, and two hearts create holy escatasy.

Thunderous growl emits from Bucky, his timbre falling into an octave, resembling such power --- voices now melting into each other, tightens something in the gut and chest. The pads of her fingertips grip his throat, Bucky is breathless, but he grins wickedly.

Everything is hot white, vision blurs, a shriek bubbles out, and a broken groan. Two bodies shake, and quake, clinging onto each other by possessive hands. Unholy matrimony.

Her entire body slumps upon his, her palm lax at the base of throat, his arms quickly encasing her back, then traveling by her head.

Kissing her temple, her face resting at the crook of his neck. Lazily, their bodies tilts to the side, heavy breathing, and strained whines --- still connected by the sex.

He hums low in his throat, “Ah,” he sighs, kissing her slick lips, his bicep slithers under her arm, as his fingers caress her curls, fiddling with the loose jeweled clips from limp coils.

“Feel better?” Nuzzling his nose against hers, both erupting in low chuckles, placid limbs entangled. Her leg clings to his thigh, her toes grazing the bare skin of his ankle.

His eyes become more serious, his fingers grasp her jaw, her cheeks slightly squish cutely in a pout, “Don’t ever think I would leave you.” His nose flares, his breathing choppy, and heavy at the mere notion of separation.

“I love you --- you’re my life. I was nothing before you --- once I saw you in that garden, flowers blooming around you,” his voice lowered to a whisper, “I swear my heart soared.” A wavering smile, at the memory of him catching sight of a pure angel.

“I just had to have you.” His voice trembles, bottom lip quivering, sniffling, his eyes flutter closed, stroking his cheek against hers. She sniffles, biting back a sob, cradling him closer to herself.

Persephone just can’t imagine a life without Hades, to live without him, such tragedy --- she will die from a broken heart, let her corpse float in the rivers of the Underworld, in search of him.

“I love you.” She speaks. A kiss, another, and a third --- more kisses follow. Sloppy kisses are the only sound in the air, needy moans, murmuring of undying love.

My love, my life.

---

Clicks of heels obnoxiously echo against the marbling, hips sway, an insolent stride demanding unrightful attention --- loyal decrypted guards witness with snickering eyes, smirks adorning grotesque moues; the gall of it all.

Soft, and onyx gauze bellows timidly by the brisk wind clung to crafted high-ceiling windows, beyond the manor’s horizon was the underworld in it’s tragic beauty --- the Styx river flows and circles upon the castle, a shiver runs down her skin at the memory of her travel across the river.

Charon’s filthy palms gripping her fore-arm, how he dragged her onto his boat, sunken eyes jet smoldering fire blazing her with such hatred, nearly smacking her in the face with the tail-end of his unwashed cloak.

How wicked he swirled his unkempt beard that clung to his chin between his thin fingers, grumbling under his breath, as she sat at the far-end of the boat, flinching at the ghostly palms of the dead reaching out; hissing in disgust. She always hated being surrounded by the dead, skin crawling.

“We have arrived.” A gravelly voice lingered, a hoarse chuckle, “Enjoy the honored feast with our majesty.” Hunched, decrypted being shook a bit at the shoulders, as if a joke the little nymph wasn’t privy to.

Too proud to bow down, a salacious smirk, graciously standing up from her seat, she spoke with conviction, “Yes --- a wonderful dinner with Hades is exactly an honor.”

The blatant disrespect.

Adorning her bodice was a revealing attire, a black slick dress with low-cut of plump cleavage, a waist-high cut unveiling her thigh, her hip-bone peaking out from the hem, smooth coiled hair lays on her shoulders, rouge painted lips.

A gold necklaces drape from her neck, slender fingers hold flower-encrusted rings, smoky eyes scanning the home that she dreams to be hers --- a tacky tactic, a display of cheap seduction.

Fiery red hair that flows straight down to her tailbone tickles her revealing back, as she digs in her clutch purse for an extra coat of gloss.

Musing pride blooms, act two of her grand scheme, showing up yesterday unexpected, Bucky hasn’t seen her for ages, after their ugly break-up, she moved from the Cocytus river, and left to wonder in the river of Lethe, stewing and inhabiting the cave of Hypnos with other nymphs.

Frankly --- Bucky forgot all about her, not a thought spent on her.

Surly growls erupt, fumbling feet nearly buckle her ankles inward, like a clumsy doe --- an inhuman shrill heaves from her chest --- her rapid heartbeat beats against the cup of her palm.

Descending from the corner of the corridors, snarling beasts foaming at the fangs; fiery red eyes, and licking their wet snouts, pointed ears flexing back; nearly three times huskier than the average earthly canine. Paws nimble, shoulders roving akin to a predator.

Shooing them away with a lame swat of her hand, nearly choking a sob --- just inches away from being devoured, “Go away, you nasty mutts!” Backing by her heels, almost cornered by the wall, the dogs don’t let up, her aggravated fear just spurs them on.

“Ela edo.”

Whimpers, and whines vibrate low, bowing heads, ears flopping down, timid paws pad towards a menacing figure standing tall by the grand staircase, crystalline hues under a strong brow --- Bucky’s pups moping that they couldn’t tear their fangs into flesh.

Twirling their massive bodies against his legs, tails wagging, happy to be shielding Bucky, as his knuckles caressed their furry domes.

“Greetings, Minthe.” Curt smile, yet polite --- pulled through the teeth.

The hellhounds grumble low at the throat at the mere mention of her name, her sour scent sends the two dogs in a frenzy of rage.

A nervous titter heaves from her shiny lips, Minthe’s mouth wavers into an anxious smile, toe-stepping far from the dogs, “Oh darling, why so formal?” Taut lean shoulders pose, returning back into her flirtatious gait, statuesque legs seductively walk with purpose.

“We know each other all too well, Bucky. Remember that sweet nickname you gave me?” Every word she speaks is as if she's lulling a moan, a weak attempt to entice.

“Yes, I remember --- Dot.”

Dot hums, her eyes half-hooded, “I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you invited me back.” Inching closer to him, “My apologies for yesterday. I hope I didn’t cause any distribution.” Faux sympathetic lashes flutter innocently, smug satisfaction at the memory of Persephone storming away at the mere presence of Minthe.

Bucky biting a sneer, thinking to himself, how did he ever come to love her? To the point of naming an earthly garden plant after her in honor? What a fool he was, all the faded memories of Minthe’s jealous fits, and possessiveness washes over him as a icy bath.

Bucky waves his dogs off, straying more near the end of the stairs but never far. “No harm, no foul. Just a misunderstanding, right?” Gritting subtly through his teeth, a small grated voice reminding him to hold his rage.

Treading closer to her now, he forces his hands to cup hers, “It’s good to see you again, Dot.” Minthe doesn’t even hide a dreamy sigh at his touch, her thumb caressing his inner wrist.

She giggles, a high-pitched one; her eyes scan the hellish alcazar, noticing a few changes, a softer touch --- she bites on her tongue, begrudgingly aware of who’s touch.

Anxious eyes scan the paintings of the macabre, death and hell immortalized in ancient paint oil. “Nice new decor, a bit dreary but then again,” a flutter of lashes, a cock of her head, “you were always one for the dramatics, Jamie.” Puckering her lips, musing over her bare shoulder, shimmies her hips a bit.

“Thank you, he likes when I decorate.” A melodic voice lingers, and pierces the silence.

Bucky twists his head hastily, his eyes softening, cloudy with love, walking away from Dot without a second look, excited feet carrying Bucky to her, open arms ready to hold her, as if centuries have passed without her touch.

Dot nearly stomps her foot on the ground as a miffed toddler, how easily Bucky ignored her --- as if she was nothing.

Descending down the stairs, with a serpent stride, effortless, and regal; adorning a sangria silk gown, flows like waves at her feet, curls coiled at the shoulders, soft dewy lips, lantern sleeves drapes her taut lean arms, a tied corset top that amples her breasts but not to vulgar --- but what made Minthe nearly hurl in her mouth, was how beautifully her crown rested upon her head.

Sparkles in the light, with the elegant rubies twinkle against the gold; marbled by the finest craftsmanship --- anything for his love.

Dainty feet hurry to Bucky’s arms, grabs her wrist, kissing her inner palm lovingly, engulfing her in his tight hug. Such a strong juxtaposition between the two betrothed, but yet, both complement each other perfectly, a yin-yang.

His lips find the crock of her neck, that perfect spot between her ear, and pulse point. Her arms encase around his neck, scenting him; guileful eyes peer over his shoulder, staring down at Minthe, fuming at the ears, disregarded as Bucky devours Persephone.

Her fingers wove itself in his hair, kissing his temple, never taking her eyes off of Minthe --- demonstrating her territory, goading that Bucky is hers, and hers only. Purposely a small flicker of her marital finger as if hovering an unattainable prize, as if saying ‘no matter what you do, you'll never win.’

“Well hello, Minthe.” Her tone light, but mirth festering underneath, such a malicious grin; as if just aware of Minthe’s presence.

“Hello.” Sharp, and straight to the point, eyes narrowed into slits; unbeknownst to the little nymph, Persephone had to dig her fingers on Bucky, restraining him from strangling her, from Minthe’s disrespectful greeting.

All in due time.

“It’s nice, you’ve accepted the invitation. I wanted to start anew with you, a clean slate.” Persephone moved forward, unreadable eyes shimmering with kindness, but it’s eerie how she smiles.

Bucky biting back a whine for having to move his face from her throat; his arm loops around her waist, fingers tenderly gripping onto her hip-bone, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the thin fabric. Her open-palm rubs sweetly between his shoulder-blades, to the curve of his waist.

Always have to be near, never far.

Minthe’s eyes widen owlishly, “Oh?” Mouth ajar, clears her throat, “I would like that indeed, yesterday was such a mess. I never intended to be so rude.”

Barely making eye-contact with Persephone, ‘Cunt.’ she bites back in her head, ‘Liar.’ Minthe’s mind began brainstorming, perhaps this dinner won’t be so bad, could benefit her to gain trust, weave herself back into Hades’ heart, right under Persephone’s nose.

Eyes meet eyes, silently pushing and shoving each other, who will crack first? Snarky remarks edging at the tip of their tongues, but bite down.

“Shall we? The dining hall is prepared for us.” Bucky speaks, hooded playful eyes, his arm extended towards the hallway, for both ladies to take their step. Distant shoulder to shoulder now, briskly walking, making small chatter, more of Persephone curious questioning about the earthly realm.

‘Silly little spring maiden.’

‘Pathetic little nymph.’

---

The small feast for three, but perfectly cooked nonetheless.

Goblets filled to the brim with wine, ambrosia weighs on tongues, small kisses here and there, tasting the elixir off of each other’s hot lips. Platters of fresh fruits, seasoned smoked fish, cheese, figs, and eggs, a nice meal --- but not enough for Minthe.

Expecting a grand splendor of food, flicks her fork around the food as it scrapes against the ceramic plate, angrily glaring at the two lovers across the table.

Seated on his lap was her.

Engrossed in each other, it was as if Minthe wasn’t even there. Bucky’s lips nibbled on Persephone’s bare shoulder, smooching on her collarbone; he must have whispered something filthy in her ear, causing her to hide her face against his giggling, as he cheekily bounced her on his leg.

“Bucky ---” Minthe hiss, drops her fork, it clunks against the plate, creating a loud echo, catching the attention of two pairs of eyes, “Why did you invite me?”

Her hands lay ontop of each other, resting her chin, “Cause it seems to me that I’m just a third wheel.” Snagging her cup, downing a hefty gulp, her speech becoming slurred.

Bucky scoffs, “My love, maybe it’s best she didn’t come by, dinners are best when it’s just you and me.” Not even trying to acknowledge Minthe, as she giggles through her nose; Minthe squawks in frustration.

“Oh, Bucky --- remember how we used to dine?” Minthe slithers, biting her lip. Bucky growls, “Don’t start.” Cradling his wife closer to his chest.

“You used to whisper sweet promises in my ear, feed each other fruits, and drink wine, how we froliced in the gardens ---” Her eyes darted now into Persephone’s, arching her brow in a challenge.

Bucky seething in pants, whispering ‘knock it off.’ “--- where he use to fuck me.” Persephone snarls, as Bucky shielded her ears by the cups of his palms.

“Watch your tongue!” Bucky roars, nose scrunched up, his face molding into that furious beast, the very terrifying face souls see as they are sent to their final fates.

Shouting, pointing his index right at her, “What we had meant nothing!” balling his hand into a fist, “You were just a tryst!”

A quiet sniffle caught his ears, turning to see his wife nearly at the brink of tears, softening at her, cupping her face into his palm, she leaned into his touch.

Kissing the slope of her button nose, ushering her to not listen to such hate. Her brown eyes were unreadable … glistening with sweetness rimming with tears.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it then, Bucky! I made you cum so hard every-time! What does she have that I don’t?!” Minthe screeches, her throat sore, and raw, banging her open-hands upon the table, demanding an answer.

“Class. Dignity. Kindness.” He spits, his teeth snaring, “Beauty.” A wicked grin, all fangs. A hit close to home, how he said it so cooly yet jarring, aware of Minthe’s fragile vanity.

“Beauty?” Minthe jeers, face twisted and scrunched, “I’m one of the most beautiful naiads you ever saw --- you said so yourself! I can do so much more for you! I love you!” Minthe points at Persephone, but her angry eyes never leave Bucky’s.

“All she can do is change the weather, she’s nothing. A lower god from the rest.” Raving foolishly with jealousy.

“Be careful how you speak to her, Minthe.” Bucky warns, with an unreadable grin, already sensing the seething anger that oozes from his wife.

“Or what?” Minthe hisses, “What can the little spring maiden do? Get pollen in my eyes?” She snickers, staring at Persephone now, “Just because you’re married to him, doesn’t make you queen.”

Persephone clicks her tongue, a sly smirk, chin tucked to chest, “But you will never be.” Minthe recoils back, offended by the mere words, laced in chilling venom, “That’s what you dream about, right? To be rid of me, and lay bare with my husband?”

Wordlessly, Minthe shrugs shamelessly, but her stance is a bit jittery at the feet.

Persephone’s gaze darkens under her arched brow, nostrils flared. “Just a maiden,” She mimics, humorlessly chuckles under her breath, memories jagged, and twisted flash behind her lids, of how her own mother, brothers and sisters diminish her value.

How can a goddess whose sole purpose is to bring life to spring thrive in the land of the dead? What can she do?

Minthe grips her goblet tighter, her fingers loosening a bit lax, Persephone leans forward, as her grip caresses the nape of Bucky’s neck, he purrs, devoted eyes, “I’m so much more than that.” Breathy venom flows from her lips, with such delicacy.

“Minthe, I proposed the idea of inviting your presence in our home to my husband. At first, he was repulsed,” She twirls the goblet between her, mindlessly eyeing the slouch of carmine liquid.

“But, then I told him of how I wish you to hurt you.” She turns her gaze to Bucky, tenderly nuzzling her nose against his, foreheads connect, his eyes placidly close, savoring each other’s essence.

“All the gory details to rip you apart,” her chest began to heave wickedly, “It excited him.” She laughs at the memory of Bucky begging to hear his wife speak such cruel fantasies, as he feasted between her legs in their bed; to hear her tremble over her venomous threats sent such a delightful thrill in him.

Bucky’s smirk stretches, murmuring hoarsely, ‘yeah it did.’

“Small, and insignificant unlike the plant.” Slim burgundy tips flicker with such a grace --- a hot-white pain dwindles as a sting, then it spreads upon Minthe’s breast-bone as wildfire, searing pain deep within her cavity, a scream bubbles from her throat, clutching her chest --- clawing fingernails scratching the skin.

The goblet falls from her grip, clanking against the floor, the wine spilling and seeping through the crevices of marbling.

“What is ever the matter, Minthe?” Bucky mocks, drinks a last sip of wine, entertained by the mere display of pain before him as if a dinner show.

Bones cracking, and snapping within flesh, sews of flesh rips, pieces flies in mid-air, blood-curdling scream fills both Bucky’s and Y/n’s ears as a fantastical symphony.

Her shoulder-blade cracks forth, flailing out of the chair, the wooden feet screeches against the flooring, dead body weight thumps ungraciously. Minthe’s fingers hover over her face, witnessing it cave, and disappear into itself; her arm disintegrating into nothingness.

Minthe shrills once more, trailing into a broken whine that strains in her throat, choppy cries for Bucky to help her, but it falls upon deaf ears.

Snickering as she kicks out her legs, sickening snaps of her toes bend back and break, her foot fractures in two, limps and caves into her flesh just as her hands. Blood splutters, and splashes in droplets, milky skin now shading into a forest green --- limbs now at a rapid-pace, gone into herself.

A wiggling torso, scrambling against the cooling marble, her voice gone into a mute scream.

Her cranium snaps, her eye bulging out of its socket, eyes blood-shot, spine splinters in pieces within her bodice, flesh wilting into she was absolutely … small. Nor longer a body, but a … leaf. A mint leaf.

Persephone stands over the shriveled mint plant, still quivering at the stem, she mockingly smiles at it, all the jests of family dulls and fades into mere whispers in her mind, “Who’s the weak little maiden now?” She sniffles, wet eyes now dilated.

Her legs jerks upward, snarling lip curls, heavily lands her heeled foot upon Minthe. A stomp that reverberates through the manor, a small crunch as she drills the heel with hate, and grit against the flooring --- grinding. Constant stomp after stomp, until the leaf was just wrinkled, and a bit torn.

Just as she can create life, she can easily destroy it.

Hands glide against her belly, soft hands against silk rove sweetly against her skin, Bucky’s warmth radiates against her back, rocking her back and forth against his body.

Her arms encircle his neck, her fingers twirl around his chestnut tresses, scratching his scalp, as he purrs against the slope of her neck.

He murmurs tenderly, “So proud of you.” Wispy kisses, as she nearly sobs of joy, the only person to truly understand her, praises her beyond any living being, sees her more than a mere maiden --- when he first laid eyes on her in the garden, as she gave a crushed rose life once more by loving lips, it was love at first sight.

She never once quivered in fear when he’s in a true form, a looming horrific god, foaming fangs, deadly rage --- she would just hold him, as if he was beautiful in her eyes.

How she can see beyond his darkness, how she lives within it so comfortably, easily became her home --- there’s no one but them, it will always be them against the world.

“Bucky …” She slithers, grinding her ass against his clothed groin, he growls, her hands groping, and cupping her perky breasts, pinching nipples between tips with a delicious twinge of pain.

“Yes … my love, my life.” His tongue licks a flat stripe from the pulse to her ear, suckling, and panting. Canines graze skin, a breathy grunt.

“Let’s head to bed.” A wanton moan, as she continues to dry-hump against her husband.

“Why the bed ---” He twirls her around, it was such a blur, she nearly gets whiplash, lifting her by the thighs, seating her upon the table; leaning over her as he thrashes dishes and candles away hastily, a nice flat surface for her to laid down on. “When I can ravish you right here.”

A hungry beast, eager paws tear at her top, rips the stitching, and bundling at her midriff --- her breasts spill out in a bouncy heave, diving down his mouth, engulfs her tit, sucking and biting. The heat of his mouth jolts her, as his other palm twists, and toys with her nipple.

Slaps it harshly, earning a high-pitched moan, as he devours her breast --- flickering his tongue against the nipple, a string of saliva connects; back to her nipple. Tugging on his hair, leaning upward, kissing his temple, cradling him against her breast-bone, as her other hand claws at his back.

Growling, Bucky suckles more of her tit in his mouth, her breast jiggles from his eager lips. Desperate groans, and moans echo, as he grinds himself down upon her mound, humping upon the creaking table.

“Oh for the love of the Gods --- not here! Go to your room, heathens!”

“Again on the table?! We eat here!”

“Off! Now!”

Shamelessly, Bucky detaches himself from her chest, a wet pop; his mouth slick with saliva, Persephone and himself giggles, not even caring that she’s exposed --- rather she relishes in it.

Stretching her arms above her head, with the most coy and sweetest smile, as her bare chest glistens with sheen by candlelight. Peering over his shoulder, Bucky sees three of his closest companions --- Hekate, Erinyes, and Hermes.

But they go by the mere mortal names of Wanda, Natasha, and Steve.

“Off, I say!” Natalia’s fiery carmine hair wizzes against her cheeks, as she stomps towards the entwined lovers, kind swats of her hands for them to move, as Bucky and her belly laugh at her puffed-up cheeks.

“Look at the good food --- spoiled! Gone to waste, cause you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves.” Steve whines, his blue-greenish hues encased by furrowed brows, he was looking forward to dinner.

Bucky mockingly ‘awhs’ at Steve, “Poor baby.” As he hugs his wife in his arms, pulling her up, covering her chest with his, kissing her hair, “Don’t worry, Stevie, more food can be prepared.” Sticking his tongue out at him teasingly.

The pure-white wings of Steve’s sandals’ soles flutter in defiance, “The table is soiled.” He spoke through gritted teeth, but smirks nonetheless.

Persephone chuckles in Bucky’s neck, kissing his bearded jaw, fiddling with his hair strands.

Royal blue oval nails nip the limp leaf, “Hmm, what do you wish to do with her?” Flopping the leaf jeeringly in her hand, snickering, “Perhaps, I could use her for a hex potion.” Wanda laughs darkly, her chocolate curls bounce a bit at the shoulders.

Aware of this little plan to lure Minthe here, just to die so violently, Wanda once suggested feeding Minthe to her venus fly-trap.

Soft eyes open with once more eerie calmness, leisurely a smile forms, “No, I have a better idea.” Persephone spoke over Bucky’s shoulder, tittering a malicious laugh.

---

The stench of decay, and despair clings to the rotted walls, dreary on the senses --- only darkness, but only casted light seeps through the open door. An eternal damnation of outcasting.

“Are you sure, my love?” Bucky asks for the hundredth time, knocking his knuckles against the cage in disgust, whispering under his breath, ‘this is too good for her.’ She hushes him, cupping his cheeks with her hands, squeezing them --- his lips pucker, with a tiny smile at her gleeful eyes.

Bowing his head down, in search of her lips, relinquishing her hold from his jaw. Encircling his arms around her waist, pulling her to himself by his hold tightly, melting her bodice against his --- skin against hot skin.

Sneaky fingers tread, and glide from the curve of her waist to the ample of her ass. Squeezing her cheeks, earning a muffled squeal.

“Darling …” She playfully scolds, lips just mere hairs away from his. Bucky pouts that her lips are not on his, whining, “Imagine it,” she nips his bottom lip, dragging it by the cages of her teeth.

“Shrouded in eternal darkness, hearing us living our lives, hearing us … make love. Hearing you fuck me with every inch of your cock in my wet cunt.” Bucky nearly wails, debauched, and wanton, his head cocks back, his eyes pinched shut, “Please my heart, let’s do this now.” He whines, she has the nerve to laugh, such a wicked minx.

“Patience, my love.” Quiet hum, a sweet kiss on his dimpled chin, and a nibble. “When I get back to the room, I expect you naked, and ready for me.” Her hand snakes down his chest, grabbing his clothed cock, massaging the weeping tip through his pants.

Sending a whimpering Bucky off with a swat to his ass, something flickers in her hues, something wicked. She gracefully tilts to the side, twirling smoothly on her heels. Slowly treading towards the cage that hung from the ceiling, surrounded by desolate isolation, an airy laugh through the nose, “Pathetic little nymph.”

Knuckles shades from sepia to icy white, gripping the metal cages harshly, the metal creeks and bends under her bruising strength.

“Since you wanted to live with Hades, so be it.” Fingers drum against the golden-gilded cage, tiny pained murmurs float near her ears, only herself able to hear it; it was pitiful.

She snickers once more, musing at the sensation of miniscule rage that radiates from the small plant, relishing in it all. She moans, fingers toying with the keyhole, dragging her nail down against the metal, a shrill of a scratch.

With a flick of her hair, flashing her wedding ring, goading; waltzing away with a gait, lethal and ethereal. The trail of her dress glides smoothly, a haunting laugh that echoes melodically yet chilling.

Gripping the carved knob, gazing back over her shoulder one more time, only her eyes sparkle as uncut gems, her dark silhouette illuminated by the hall’s lit candles --- a dewy vermillion glow surrounds her bodice.

“Sweet dreams, Minthe.”

[chaozsilhouette]

A Revealing Performance

My rendition for the Shadow Play in @winterpower98's Swap Au.

It was supposed to be a simple thing, then it sort of spiraled into this whole deal. For the effects of the Shadow Lantern, I drew some inspiration from her Cursed Au as I never thought simply using her friends was cruel enough for the Monkey Tyrant.

It serves to show just how far Macaque has grown, but also to highlight just how monstrous he was.

_____________________________

Mei refrained from downing her bubble tea as she waited for the play to start. It had been a rough couple of weeks with Spider Queen and that creepy girl. And failing to find where Xiaotian had run off to after the misunderstanding. When Macaque sent her tickets to the local theatre, she was ashamed to think it was a trap.

Pigsy and Sandy were right. After everything that happened, she needed some serious me time. She had been too stressed.

Besides, everyone knew Macaque was a total theatre nerd. Few people knew that the star puppeteer was actually the Six-Eared Macaque himself. He would totally send her tickets from his stomping grounds as a way to unwind.

It was a shame that Tang couldn’t join them. Apparently, he finally managed to schedule a meeting with the Celestial Realm and was Taking the demon brothers to figure out a new way of sealing the Monkey Tyrant. It was also his chance to explain their little break-in during New Years. He encouraged her to have fun and if it was good, he’d join them for the next showing.

So here they were waiting for the performance to start. Although she wondered what the fake mayor was doing here. They hadn't seen him since he gave her the skeleton key. Still wasn't sure why he had it or why he gave it to her? Supposedly she was only supposed to have it for a day, but he never stopped by to pick it up.

_____________________________

Sun Wukong was a monkey of many talents, but even he had to admit Macaque was a far better storyteller and his mastery of shadows was sheer perfection. But that just made this plan all the more perfect. What better way to teach his wayward beloved’s little flower a lesson than through a trusted medium.

Obtaining a spot in the local theatre was child’s play, a little magic and they were all but begging him to take center stage. Apparently, they had been scrambling to find a new performer after their star puppeteer had to leave for a family emergency (three guesses as to who that was). And with a little glamor, a set of tickets was left at the little flower's doorstep. As far as she knew, Macaque was proud of her progress and believed she had deserved a reward for all her hard work. She was so desperate for something to go right she hardly questioned how her mentor, who was in parts unknown, managed to secure tickets for a new performer.

In his personal dressing room, Wukong delicately touched up his human disguise. Even if he was going to be hidden in his hanfu and cloak, it wouldn’t do to spoil the surprise. Applying his eye shadow with artful flair, the Monkey King took time to appreciate just how handsome he truly was no matter what form he took. Honestly, who would have thought such perfection existed?

A pulse of dark magic drew his attention to his latest partner in crime.

The Shadow Lantern gently floated before him. Its dark magic practically purring at the thought of being used. Wukong could almost laugh at his beloved’s foolishness. He was there when his darling created the lantern, when he infused his own shadows into its very foundation. Did he honestly think such a masterpiece would tolerate being left to collect dust in a cave?

Normally a magical artifact would never consider turning on its master, but after centuries of abandonment, all Wukong had to do was whisper his intentions to return Macaque to his former self to secure its loyalty. The second he first made contact, he could sense a twisted hunger writhing within and with each performance granting it the chance to feed on the life essence of the viewers…. hehe, he almost couldn’t contain himself.

Looking up at the clock, he saw it was just about time for his next performance. His clones had reported the girl’s presence along with the pig and the water demon. Strangely the one with glasses and the little matchstick was absent. No matter, he could make do with two hostages just fine.

After all, the show must go on.

_____________________________

The overhead lights dimmed, signaling the start of the play. Smoke slowly poured from beneath the floorboards, generating an air of mystery. In a flash of golden light, a tall man wearing a beautiful cloak manifested on center stage. The crowd silenced themselves at the display.

“Welcome viewers to a performance you shall never forget!” From the folds of his sleeves, an exquisite lantern floated in front of him. A mesmerizing yet familiar purple glow emanating from the center.

“Our tale tonight is one of love, companionship, and how even the strongest of bonds can be severed through the trickery of the wicked.”

In the background, the shadows twisted and grew in the lantern’s light. Carefully they formed a beautiful scene of a mountain covered in flowers and trees. Attention was gradually guided to the top, where a round stone basked in the sun.

“It all began with the birth of a King.”

The round stone broke, revealing a figure that resembled a monkey. But no, this was a monkey demon, a monkie if you would. The King journeyed down the mountain until he found a tribe of normal monkeys. The group frolicked for a while as the King established himself as the undisputed ruler of the tribe.

A large figure with an ax appeared. The monster brought down his ax upon a small collection of monkeys only to be stopped at the last second by the King. The King used his superior strength to steal the demon’s ax and used it to decapitate the intruder in a single stroke. The monkeys jumped around the King and praised his strength, but the King did not appear satisfied.

“The young King was born with great power and strength, but he sought out more to protect his people.”

The King crafted a raft and set out on a dangerous sea. The King was shown to face off against mountain gods, human warriors, and demonic sorcerers always to reign victorious but never satisfied.

“In his travels, he learned much and faced many enemies, in time his efforts were handsomely rewarded.”

The King climbed a fleet of stairs carved into a mountain to reach a humble monastery. At the top, a stern human stood, but behind him was another monkie. This one however possessed six ears.

“His quest for power led him to a Warrior of potential equaling his own. At first, neither was sure how to react to their mirror, but they quickly forged a comradery that took them far.”

The two monkies trained together, mastering new powers as they sparred.

“Their time together increased their power exponentially and as they grew stronger their feelings blossomed into something beautiful.”

The two were on a cliff overlooking the stars, slowly leaning closer to one another. Eventually, the two faced their opposite and leaned in close.

“Their fates had become intertwined. Their power was unmatched. It was then the King realized what he had been searching for all this time.”

The two shadows merged together in a complex dance until they separated into two beings once again, but not as they began. The two monkeys were now garbed in elaborate, yet practical armor and silks. The King wielded a staff and the Warrior took up a spear.

“Slowly their strength grew to where nothing could challenge them, whether in the Celestial Realm or on Earth.”

The King and Warrior were shown battling heavenly armies and powerful demons with confident smirks. Each battle resoundingly won through their combination of speed, strength, and cunning.

“But it was not enough. The King wished to ensure that he and the Warrior would be able to fight together forever and sought the power and respect needed to secure their future.”

The King took to the Heavens, where he stood before an Emperor in the most extravagant outfit, surrounded by massive guards in magical armor. The Emperor was clearly afraid as the King effortlessly toppled one guard after another, slowly approaching the throne at a steady pace.

“The King’s noble actions were viewed negatively by those who feared his ever-growing power. Eventually, a prison was crafted that could restrain the King, one that not even his beloved Warrior could destroy.”

Just before the King’s latest attack could reach the Emperor, chains wrapped around his limbs and dragged him down to Earth. With a quick flex, the chains shattered, but the King was doomed as a mountain landed on him with a seal placed at the top. The Warrior tried to pry off the seal or find some way to weaken the mountain, his acts growing more desperate with time, yet nothing worked.

“Cruelly, the King was forced to wait until he could be freed, forced to watch his precious Warrior defend their Kingdom on his own.”

With a heavy expression, the Warrior abandoned his efforts to return to the original mountain as dozens of terrifying figures surrounded the monkey inhabitants.

“Centuries passed and their love still burned strong. Soon their patience was rewarded, the King was freed but he was soon trapped in a new prison.”

A monk approached the mountain and removed the seal. The King swiftly destroyed the mountain. The monk humbly bowed to the King and offered fresh clothing and a fillet. The King garbed himself in the gifts only to collapse in agony when the monk prayed.

“Enraged the King played along until the time was right. The King and the Warrior reunited in secret and crafted a plan that would allow them to take their revenge on those that dared to separate them.”

The two monkies hugged and nuzzled each other in appreciation. A quick conversation later, the Warrior changed to resemble the King and joined the monk as the King headed into unknown lands.

“Decades later the King was ready to retrieve his love, confident in his regained strength. But when he arrived the Warrior had changed. It was as if the warrior had lost a crucial part of himself. The Warrior tried to dissuade the King from killing the monk and his companions. He even tried to convince him to give up his rage at the Celestial Realm, believing the war that would ensue wasn't worth it.”

The disguised Warrior was traveling with four colorful characters. The King dropped from the sky in front of the group, a massive crater forming around him. The Warrior regained his true form, but instead of returning to his rightful place, he blocked the King’s view of the monk.

“The King could not believe his ears. This could not be his Warrior. His love always understood his goals and knew why heaven had to pay. The King knew this change was the monk’s fault. The King moved to silence the deceiver in one quick strike only to find it blocked by the Warrior.”

The King and Warrior exchanged blows that tore mountains asunder, split the heavens, and burned down forests. The other demons following the monk tried to aid the warrior, but nothing they did seemed to slow down the King, if anything their attacks only served to further enrage him.

“The two clashed until the Warrior fled with the jailers. Time and time again they clashed, but never could the King reach the Warrior he held in his heart.”

The group fled from the battle, but time and time again the King tracked them down. The locations may have changed, but the carnage after each battle remained as world-shattering as the first. In the end, the Group managed to truly escape, and the Warrior vanished into the shadows he wielded, leaving the King alone with nothing but his memories.

“Even now the King yearns for the companionship of his beloved Warrior, knowing that at his core the Warrior craves the same.”

With the final line sending shivers down the spines of the viewers, the puppeteer vanished in a flash of light.

_____________________________

As Mei waited for her family to walk out, she couldn’t help but think about the play. It almost sounded like they were telling the tale of the Monkey King. But that was ridiculous. No one knew the Monkey King’s origins aside from minor details from the Journey to the West. Besides the narrator seemed to view the Monkey Tryant as a hero and victim. Clearly, that guy needed a reality check.

“Hello, young one.” Nearly choking on the remainder of her tea, Mei turned to see the puppeteer standing behind her with a knowing smile.

His cloak shrouding the top of his face in shadow. For a second, Mei envisioned her father Macaque. He would adore that look. Actually, didn’t she see a similar outfit in his closet on Flower Fruit Mountain? Doesn’t he wear that outfit when he’s hosting a shadow play?

Wait. How did he sneak up on her like that? Was she that out of it?

How long has she been quiet? Crap! Say something! “Oh. Ah-hello. C-can I help you with something?”

“I was about to ask the same. You do know the theatre is going to close soon right?”

“What?” Mei grabbed her phone. The digital clock flashed that it was past nine. That couldn’t be right. That meant she had been waiting for nearly an hour. But where were the others? Surely, they wouldn’t have left without telling her. Were they in trouble?

“Is everything alright?”

“Ah- yeah, everything’s fine.” It’s cool. It’s cool. She could handle this. She just needed to stay calm. “No need to worry about me. I just ah-I have a few questions about your play.”

“Yes.”

“How did you could up with the concept? I mean, no offense, but your premise could be taken the wrong way.” Maybe it was the panic over where her family had disappeared to, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being sized up.

“Hm. Have you ever heard the expression ‘History is written by the winners’?”

“Yes. It’s pretty common.” Like one of the most used sayings in the world.

“The tale was designed to show that love is one of the most cherished feelings of all and that in order to protect it, one must be willing to do anything to keep their loved ones safe. The King only wished to keep his beloved by his side, but the Warrior was misled and forced to battle against his love. That story may belong to only two, but similar tales can be experienced in anyone’s life. Tell me, can you think of a time you fought with those you cared about due to a misunderstanding?”

Without even considering it, horrible memories resurfaced. Mei arguing with MK as she tried to stop him from leaving with the newly released Monkey King. Mei forced to battle Red Son as his mind was slowly consumed by the True Fire of Samadhi. Tang lying to them about his true identity. Macaque leaving when they needed him most without saying why.

“I see you can.” The puppeteer gently guided her back into the main hall, where she took a seat on an empty bench.

“It’s nothing. I just-” She honestly didn’t know why she was pouring out her heart to stranger. Maybe she really was that exhausted. “-there’s so much going on and I’m supposed to be strong no matter what. But sometimes it hurts, just thinking about all my mistakes. Sometimes I wonder if I truly am strong. What if bringing me into this was a mistake?”

“What if it was?” That voice!

Mei turned to see Macaque garbed in a strange outfit, one that honestly reminded her of the Monkey King’s. She was confused. She had never seen him wear anything like that, he looked like the Monkey King’s twisted shadow.

And that expression! Her father Macaque had never made that face before. It looked as though he was reveling in her suffering.

“What’s the matter, little jade? Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone.” He extended a hand slowly with the intent to cradle her face. A normal gesture he would use to comfort her, but her every instinct was screaming at her to get away.

Mei jumped to her feet and pulled out her spear, aiming it right between the imposter’s eyes. “Enough games!”

Macaque stared at the spear for a second, his fiendish expression only growing more vicious. He threw his head back with a full-bodied laugh, showing how little he thought of her threat. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

In a flash of light, the Monkey Tyrant was standing before her, still wearing his puppeteer disguise. “Wow. About time. For a while, I was wondering if you’d ever figure out it was me.” His red and gold eyes carefully roved over her body, taking in every shake and fearful twitch. “Put down the spear, kid. We both know you’re not nearly good enough to scratch me with such a pitiful copy of the Dragon Blade.”

That may have been true, but she’d sooner make out with DBP in full view of Queen Iron Fan than leave herself completely open before this tyrant. “So the play was from your perspective. I always figured you were delusional, but this is a new low. Where is my family?” She all but growled, unknowingly her canines had slightly elongated in response to her rage.

“They never left. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize this.” The Monkey King took out the lantern, once more bathing the room in that familiar glow.

“What’s the big deal about a lantern?”

The stone monkie found her ignorance all the more entertaining. To think he hadn’t warned her of his own past.

“The big deal is that my dear warrior crafted this lantern long ago. It was his finest work and like everything he made it has multiple uses.” With a simple hand gesture, the silhouettes of Pigsy and Sandy appeared on the walls. “The Shadow Lantern can do more than enhance one’s skills in shadow magic, it can trap the bodies and souls of its targets. So long as the targets are trapped, the lantern can steal the shadows of its victims so its master can use them as a personal army until there is nothing left.”

“You expect me to believe Macaque made something so disgusting?” Even as Mei said it, she couldn’t help but recognize how similar the lantern’s magic was to her teacher’s. It was cool and soothing, but on the edge, there was an unmistakable edge of malice. “Even if he did, I doubt he made it without you whispering in his ears.”

“Oh child, you have no idea how many secrets he keeps from you. Let me share one with you.” The lantern grew brighter, and the silhouettes of her family members gained more substance as they peeled away from the walls.

Mei adjusted herself so all opponents were in her sight, but nothing could stop the sweat collecting on her forehead.

She sensed something powerful appear behind her. Jumping out of the way as a spear nearly severed her arm. She faced her new opponent. Only to almost drop her weapon.

Standing before her was another copy of Macaque only this one was even more disturbing. Its eyes burned with purple light, the shadows loving curled around it, but worst of all was the sneer filled with razor-tipped teeth.

“Did you honestly think my love was always so nice?”

[sweetestpopcorn]

Which hogwarts house do you think the characters of the dance era would be sorted into? Sorry if you answered this question before

Hi there!

It has never been asked of me no, and I am so FREAKING EXCITED TO ANSWER THIS ONE! The ASOIAF along with Harry Potter books are by far my favourite sagas ever, and I think no one writes characters like George and JK, so I cannot wait to mix the two XD

Before I begin though, quick reminder of the core traits of each of the four Hogwarts Houses.

Gryffindor - Courage, Bravery, Determination, Daring, Nerve, Chivalry.

Slytherin - Resourcefulness, Determination, Pride, Cunning, Ambition, Self-preservation.

Ravenclaw - Wit, Learning, Wisdom, Acceptance, Intelligence, Creativity.

Hufflepuff - Hard-working, Patience, Fairness, Just, Loyalty, Modesty.

I am starting from the most important characters and moving down to the more background characters. And where could I start other than with the two main figures of the Dance, the Rogue Prince and the Realm's Delight? Which luckily for me, are also two of the easiest characters to sort into a house.

Daemon Targaryen - Slytherin (to the bone). I feel a description of someone from House Slytherin is almost a perfect description of Daemon. Yes, I do believe he also possessed traits from Gryffindor house, but his Slytherin traits of being cunning, proud, ambitious, as well as resourcefulness are definitely the most important aspects of his character I would argue.

Rhaenyra Targaryen - Gryffindor without a shadow of a doubt. The Princess of Dragonstone was described as bold since her days as a child. She was the youngest character we know to become a dragonrider. She died with a dragon about to burn and eat her alive and yet instead of cowering and begging, Rhaenyra rose her head high to throw one last insult at her shit of a half-brother. Her core trait above all others is bravery, and even if she is also proud, as those of Slyhterin house are, I feel the hat would send her to Gryffindor the moment it touched her head.

On a side note I find the Slytherin/Gryffindor combo the hottest - little surprise that Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were once best friends - and I will never forgive JK for not giving it to us.

Corlys Velaryon - Slytherin. While the Sea Snake also has some Gryffindor traits, I feel his ambition and cunning does shine through more often than the rest. He's a black but he's wearing green same as Daemon.

Rhaenys "The queen who never was" Targaryen - Gryffindor (!!!). There could be no other house for the woman who fearlessly took on Aegon II and Aemond. And on another side note, she had more balls than those two clowns put together.

Viserys Targaryen I - Hufflepuff. He liked the good life, and he wasn't brave, ambitious, or smart enough - definitely not smart enough - to be sent to the other houses. I think he would have been one of those cases in which sweet Helga Hufflepuff just took pity on him because let's face it, no one else would want him. To a point ok he was loyal to his daughter so that must count for something XD

Alicent Hightower - Slytherin (duh). A woman whose colour was green and that was ambitious before anything else. This was so easy, the hat would only need to brush against her hair.

Otto Hightower - Slytherin. Do I need to explain this one? I think not.

Aegon II Targaryen - Slytherin. Now apologies to Slytherin house to be stuck with this trash bag (and Slytherin is my house btw), but I feel I got nowhere else to put him. Unlike with his father though, I feel Helga would want nothing to do with him. He was lazy - complete opposite of someone from Hufflepuff. Glutenous. Only wanted to get laid. And besides being a Targaryen (half), he has no good quality I can name. I almost feel like he would be a Crabbe or a Goyle so that's why he's getting sent to Slytherin.

Aemond Targaryen - Slytherin. Contrary to popular opinion there was nothing brave about his dude except the time he claimed Vhagar. He was a coward who only went to face Rhaenys with his brother, and would only face Daemon when Daemon was alone. He died like a little 🏝 and no one from Gryffindor would die like a little 🏝 - I say this as a proud Slytherin.

Helaena Targaryen - Hufflepuff. There's not much of a personality for me to examine here, but she was described as pleasant and happy. I feel Helga would like her.

Daeron Targaryen - Hufflepuff though I could also say Gryffindor. I think Daeron could be a hatstall for sure. While it's impossible to doubt his bravery and he was called "daring", I do think his loyalty to his family and how much he tried to do the right thing are more core elements of his than his bravery. That being said I could go with either. Maybe 55% Hufflepuff and 45% Gryffindor.

Criston Cole - Gryffindor. Oh, you thought all the trash was going to Slytherin?! Think again! Godric, I am so sorry I am bestowing an incel to your proud house but it is what it is, honey. If nothing else Criston was brave, and him turning to the Greens was not for ambition but because Rhaenyra's denied him her 🐈 aka hand in marriage. He gives me some Peter Petigrew vibes, I mean guy was a rat, and he did died challenging someone to a duel. So yeah... Gryffindor. Sorry again, Godric.

I need something to cleanse my palate right now 🤢🤮 Moving on to some Blacks for the sake of my sanity.

Jacaerys "Jace" Velaryon - Gryffindor. Had all the traits that would make Godric proud. Died fighting for his mama.

Lucerys "Luke" Velaryon - Gryffindor. Again, brave and courageous, died like a true Gryffindor.

Joffrey Velaryon - Gryffindor. Same as his brothers, wanted to fight himself when he heard about Luke and wasn't afraid to risk his life to save his dragon.

And now to the two most precious and special boys!

Aegon III Targaryen - Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Like Daeron, Aegon would likely be another hatstall. I honestly cannot decide what is more prevalent about him. While he doubts his own courage, and him leaving Viserys behind will likely not make many people see him as a Gryffindor, with the years he did show himself to be braver than what he knew - reminds me of Neville Longbottom. At the same time I also feel he has so many of the wonderful Hufflepuff qualities. Final thoughts: letting y'all decide.

Viserys II Targaryen - Slytherin or Ravenclaw or even Gryffindor. One of the smartest and most capable Hands/Kings Westeros ever had. A precocious child with a great mind that I think would do so well in Ravenclaw. At the same time, Viserys is described as shrewd which is very much a Slytherin thing. And yet he wasn't afraid to pick up arms to protect those he loved which is very Gryffindor. Gun to my head: Slytherin like his papa.

Baela Targaryen - Gryffindor. I feel I would waste time to even explain this because it's so obvious.

Rhaena Targaryen - Slytherin. Bet you weren't counting on this one?😏 Rhaena was cunning, she knew what to do to get what she wanted, which is very Slytherin of her.

Addam of Hull/Addam Velaryon - Hufflepuff. He also has a lot of Gryffindor traits but he was loyal above all things, so he's going to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff deserves someone of Addam's caliber!

Alyn of Hull/Alyn Velaryon - Slytherin. Corlys's son through and through. It's Slytherin for him.

Mysaria of Lys "Lady Misery" - Slytherin (DUH!). No explanation required we all agree.

Laenor Velaryon - Ravenclaw. He almost doesn't have a personality to speak of - besides being gay - but I believe he did like to travel, so it gave me some Gilderoy Lockhart vibes. At the same time he also didn't seem to give a damn about what people thought of him and that gives me Luna vibes. Off to Ravenclaw with him!

Harwin Strong - Gryffindor. The dude was called "Breakbones" 🤷‍♀️ I don't have a whole lot to work with.

Laena Velaryon - Gryffindor. This was another especially hard one since again, little to no personality. But since she was said to be adventurous and she did claim Vhagar, I am sending Laena to Gryffindor house.

Last and least to be honest 😂

Mushroom - Ravenclaw. He didn't lack for an "imagination" and he did write a book I guess XD

Septon Eustace - Ravenclaw. A studious man. I got nothing else, but I do feel the two dudes who wrote most of the events of the Dance should go to Ravenclaw.

Thank you again for this ask, this was really fun!

[lattechans]

𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: any romantic relationships between an elf and a human have dire consequences but you're still willing to try

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: elf!hyunjin x female reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff and a hint of angst

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: praising, piv, marking, nipple play (all in all pretty vanilla love making)

𝐚/𝐧: this is for the collab project created by @binniesthighs and wow i don't think i've ever written anything like this before but i'm quite proud of it! maybe i'll write fantasy more often from now on...

₁₈₊

you were taking notice of the scenery around you; the outline of the kingdom hazy from such a great distance. this place has become like your second home after many years of traveling. as a child, you were always a wanderer, so it surprised no one when you, as an adult, decided to go off and search for the ancient elven realms that only a few humans knew about.

the first time you met an elf was entirely by coincidence, and was the main reason you chose to look for more. hyunjin was his name, and he was the most ethereal being you had ever laid your eyes upon although you found all elves to be eerily beautiful creatures – hyunjin was different.

he had shoulder length dark brown hair, his eyes warm like caramel compared to those of his parents or the other elves, who looked more cold.

only one person truly knew about you and hyunjin, and she was the reason you were able to meet like this without constant concern for others finding out the true colors of your relationship. the two of you could only go so long sneaking around the kingdom, hiding together in the halls or stealing kisses in the library when someone could see you at any moment.

hyunjin knew that if the two of you were caught together like this, you’d be banished from the kingdom without hesitation and he would never be able to see you again.

you see, the elves had no problems with human visitors, nor even friendships. in fact, the royal family was once known for welcoming humans into their family; the queen had married a human decades before you or hyunjin were even born.

however, the times changed as the queen was betrayed by her husband, who stole one of the most treasured relics in the kingdom and killed many of the creatures who lived in the kingdom as he had fled. ever since then, no romantic relationships were allowed between elves and humans as they were believed to only bring wickedness and evil to the kingdom.

it goes without saying that ever since then, elves and humans alike had been punished for such relationships and although, for the humans the consequences were only banishment and shame, for the elves – the consequences were much worse. a true heartbreak would eventually kill an elf. this is why you needed a secluded place just for the two of you, safe from suspicious eyes.

a few months ago, you had approached the lady you had to thank for all this even being possible, aelvavorna, or aelva for short. she was one of the greatest wizards known in all of the realms, her powers stretched even to the human realm. however, even with such great power she preferred to help those in need and keep a low profile, right here in this kingdom.

the surprise wasn’t that you fell for hyunjin. practically anyone from the human realm would be mad not to pine after both his handsome features and his kind, generous demeanour. the surprise, in your mind, was that he somehow fell in love with you.

and aelva understood your relationship as soon as she met the two of you. in fact, aelva was glad to help the two of you; finding the rules of the elven kingdom when it came to elf-human love.

you vividly remember how she grabbed a heavy book and a small metal box from a table and placed them on the great stone table in the middle of the dimly lit room. “i have an enchantment that can create a safe refuge for you and your love.”

she explained the workings of the enchantment to the two of you and opened the metal box, revealing an odd assortment of rings and jewels, most of them old and tattered, and collected from where you'd never know. from the box, she selected a pendant with a dark blue, rectangular stone on a silver chain. she held it aloft for the both of you to see.

“whoever wears the pendant will be the one who can open the door, and who determines what lies inside,” she explained in a whisper.

“who will be the one to keep it?”

hyunjin took your hands in his without hesitation.

“will you?”

“yes.”

aelva fastened the pendant around your neck before pulling out the book of spells and handing it to hyunjin to hold open. she touched delicate fingertips to the pendant that hung against your collarbone, her other hand coming to rest on the book hyunjin held.

with the little light filtering in through the windows from the sliver of moon hanging high in the sky, aelva began to chant in a tongue you’d never heard before, reciting the spell she read from the page. you felt a quick surge of heat that made you gasp, and in moments, it was over.

she studied you carefully, a smile on her lips before giving her final instructions.

“the one who wears the pendant needs only think of what they’d like to find behind the door—a room, a country, anywhere—and when they turn the handle, that is the place they will find inside. only the wearer of the pendant and those that take her hand may enter; all others will not be able to find the door hidden in plain sight. but bear in mind, the pendant creates only illusion. nothing you find beyond this door is real, except for the two of you. but you will be safe here.”

you remember squeezing aelva’s hand, a tear rolling down your cheek. “thank you.”

“anything for true love.”

just before you left, hyunjin leaned down to kiss your lips with a promise. “i’ll meet you there tomorrow night.”

and so he did, not only the next night, but many, many more nights to come.

and now, in the shadow of an ancient tree, the last traces of sunlight were finally falling below the horizon, you watched as the streams of light glimmered across the fields, shining lights of green and yellow trailing behind them.

the tiny creatures living together in the elven kingdom illuminated the landscape as you leaned back against your lover’s chest, letting your head fall back onto his broad shoulder as you looked up toward the sky. his hand, warm and trembling, brushed down the side of your neck and shoulder, pushing the sleeve of your dress away so that he could kiss the bare skin underneath.

you sat between his legs, the smooth material of his dress shirt soft against your back, and you sighed as one of the fluttering lights bounced off a flower just a short distance away. you reached back, placing a delicate hand over hyunjin’s on your shoulder, and sighed. “i wish this could last forever.”

you felt his exhale against your ear. “so do i, my love,” he whispered before pulling your hand up to his lips for a chaste kiss. but alas, your time was running short. you both needed to return home, and if you weren’t back soon, you’d surely be missed.

hyunjin’s fingertips grazed the tiny flower buds he had carefully woven into your hair, placed just so to adorn you. but as the minutes dragged on, though all you wanted was to stay cradled in his arms, you knew it was time to leave the meadow and head for home.

hyunjin helped you to your feet and took up the bag you had brought with you, filled with delicious pastries and fruit, all the while, holding your hand tightly in his. as you walked through the meadow that was located on a far away hill, the glow of the grass and setting sun faded away behind you. it was only a short walk before you came to the door which was only known to you and hyunjin.

as if it had sprouted from the ground, the great door, seemingly wood and iron with an appointed arch over the top, stood in the downhill. as you stepped to the other side, you entered the same meadow that was connected to the kingdom, however, the huge door disappeared behind you.

a simple spell that hid you and hyunjin’s romance from the peering eyes of anyone else. you reached for the small pendant hanging on a chain around your neck and tucked it safely under the collar of your dress.

before parting, hyunjin wrapped his arm around you, his hand resting at the base of your spine, pulling you close for a languid kiss, slow and silent, neither of you wanting to let go. the danger of the kiss making both of you feel lightheaded. a breath passed as he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours for only a moment, knuckles brushing your cheek. you exchanged no words, but you felt it, his love and passion that you returned tenfold under the cover of the kingdom now wrapped in the night .

you dared to stay long enough on the quiet alley to watch him disappear around the corner before hurrying the opposite way yourself. your heart full but aching.

more months passed this way, your rendezvous with hyunjin becoming more and more frequent. with this secret hideaway you shared, it was easier to spend time together, to crave each other’s presence in a place where no one could separate you. each time you met, hyunjin held your hand in his as you pictured the location you chose to visit on the inside. never did hyunjin make a request, even when you asked him to. it was his gift to you, he said.

“where to tonight, my love?” he asked, a dreamy tone in his voice that lit a small fire in some deep fragment of your soul. you wrapped your fingers around the pendant, concealed under your clothes during the day, and sighed.

you knew exactly where you wanted to go tonight. holding the thought in your mind, you reach for the emptiness, only for the door to erect out of thin air, turning the handle, the fantasy materializing in front of your eyes.

you found yourself in an unfamiliar room with a comfortable air about it. the walls and carpets were dark, rich reds and deep green floral patterns warmed the atmosphere before you. heavy wooden furniture was arranged just so, dark mahogany woods twisting in ornate patterns that looked like the roots of trees that had grown out of the floor. candles burned on the dressing table and a mirrored vanity, tossing shadows across the room, leading your eyes to a bed covered in velvety bedsheets.

“but this is—” hyunjin breathed.

“your bedroom. i wanted to see it.”

with the door safely closed behind you, you led hyunjin to his bed – the illusion of his bed – and sat beside him on the plush bedding. he dropped down beside you, running his hands over the designs on the blanket, an exact replica of the one he slept under every night.

everything in the room was exactly as it would be if he returned to his home at this exact moment. though it was almost uncanny to be sitting there, he felt a fluttering in his chest as he gazed upon you, your form against the backdrop of his most private space.

you, on the other hand, could hardly stop from observing the room, curious as to every detail, even if this was only a false vision of the real thing.

it was as close as you might ever come, and you decided to make it count. an urgency washed over you, the intimacy of peering into hyunjin’s bedroom overcoming your senses with a haze of lust. you reached out to his face, suddenly desperate to touch him, to feel his body, to be near him in the most carnal sense of the word.

you breathed his name before he took you in his arms and pulled you close, your lips crashing into his as instincts began to overcome him as well. this was where you belonged, in his arms, in his bed.

you opened up to him, letting your jaw fall open as he forced his tongue into your heated mouth, breathy moans and gasps escaping the both of you as your body rolled against his. his hands roamed down your back and around to your hips as you clung to his neck, both gripping the other as if you would never let go. clumsily, hyunjin’s slender fingers fumbled with the laces down the sides of your dress, messy in their desperation to remove the layers of clothes separating his body from yours.

“please, my love,” he whispered, hitching your breath in your throat as you realized he wanted you as passionately as you wanted him.

you rose to your knees and began untying the various fastenings of your dress until it fell loosely around your shoulders. hyunjin sat up to help pull the fabric over your head, leaving you in only your white underclothes, an image he held in his mind during lonely nights in this very room, when the two of you could not be together for one reason or another.

he marveled at your body like it was the first time he was seeing it, though this was far from the truth. the glow of your skin in the candlelight left him breathless, the curves of your jaw, your neck, your nearly exposed breasts, and your thighs almost too much for him to handle.

his hands traced the line of your shoulder, down your arms to your wrists, where he took hold and pulled your hands up to his lips, kissing the tips of your fingers as his dark lashes fluttered closed, drinking you in with his lips instead of his eyes.

clothing was discarded piece by piece, flung into a pile somewhere on the floor until the both of you were bare, chests heaving for breath as he kissed you, longing for your taste on his tongue.

you dragged your fingernails over his defined shoulders and chest as he kissed your neck, his teeth digging into the soft flesh he found there.

his hands wandered your hips and thighs, indecisive fingertips squeezing the curves of your legs and the globes of your ass until he couldn’t fight the instincts in his head any longer.

hooking his strong hands under your knees, hyunjin flipped you over on the bed, claiming a position on top of you where he had better access to your body. thick erection pressed tightly against his stomach, he leaned forward and captured one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking the tender flesh of its underside as his hand cupped the other side of your chest.

with nothing to dampen your moans, you cried out in pleasure as his lips moved to cover the hard bud of your nipple, his teeth digging in just enough to bring you to a place of dizziness.

“my love, ” he moaned between wet kisses, lips pressed against your skin with a shudder.

he sucked harder still as his dominant hand pinched your opposite nipple and massaged the mound underneath it in circles. you writhed under him, calling out his name as he ravaged your chest. your fingers burrowed into his locks, your body scrambling for anything to hold on to as if you would float up without doing so.

your ankles came to lock around his lower back, heels pressing into his spine as he nipped at your most sensitive areas, the ones he had come to know so well.

just as your neck was starting to feel unbearably hot from the pleasure, beads of sweat rolling down both your forehead and his back, he finally released your breast with a pop of his lips, gasping as he came up for air. he leaned back on his thighs, sitting upright to survey the traces of love bites and fingertip bruises he’d left across your chest, carefully kept below where the neckline of your dress would cover the next day.

as both of you caught your breath, he stared down at the pendant that gave you this power, which rested perfectly between your breasts, glinting as it caught the light from the nearest candle. it sent hyunjin’s head spinning as he touched his throbbing cock in one hand, preparing himself for you.

“let me fill you, please.” his thighs tensed between your legs, spread wide for him, straining to hold himself back. a glistening bead of pre-cum formed at his tip, but he didn’t break eye contact with you as he spread it over the blushing head of his cock with his thumb.

“please,” you whispered, hardly able to make a sound, as hungry for him as he was for you.

hyunjin released his grip between his legs and instead reached under your knees, folding your legs into your body, knees on either side of your chest. you felt him pressing forward, putting his weight first in his hands against the back of your thighs, spreading you wider in preparation. you wept for him, slick and trembling from his ministrations on your chest and the sight of his impossibly thick cock. you knew he would fit inside you, but only just.

with a sharp inhale, he teased his cock at your hole, the head swiping at your sensitive skin before he started to push himself inside you, inch by inch as he groaned. you felt the delicious burn as his thickness stretched your walls, both inside and out, to accept him.

“that’s it, my good girl, let me fill you,” he grunted, sweat dripping off the tip of his sloped nose and onto your chest as you whined in pleasure. he pulled out slowly before thrusting inside again, this time forcing himself inside you with a singular motion that had you clawing at his shoulders, mewling as his cock filled you completely.

hyunjin moaned deliciously as the pushing and pulling began, the dragging of his thickness creating intense friction between your legs. the sheer size of his cock splitting you in two had your head thrashing from side to side as he began to lose himself, lips moving almost on their own.

his eyes rolled back in his head with a gasp as his hip bones touched your thighs as he continued to pound himself into you. his thrusts came harder and faster yet, the muscles in your thighs trembling from being spread so wide for so long. the wet squelching of his cock sliding in and out of your heat couldn’t drown out hyunjin’s cries.

“y/n, oh my g– mine, my girl. mine” his words fell from his lips like a prayer, begging for salvation but not forgiveness, finally pushing you to release. your thighs bucked up against the strength of his legs as your neck and back arched severely off the bed, head thrown back in a scream as you came on his thick cock.

despite how you gasped, hyunjin didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, until you were filled with him. slick dribbled from your hole, wetting his cock even more as he slid in and out of you, pushing himself past his own limit.

“my love, i love you, i love you,” you panted, reaching to squeeze the muscles of his sturdy arms, impossibly flexed as he thrusted deep inside one last time before coating your insides with his load, his entire body shaking.

he collapsed beside you then, lungs gasping for breath, eventually pulling you into his chest, glistening with sweat and heat. his forehead dropped onto your shoulder and he curled into you, silent sobs wrenching from his lips as he began to cry. numbly, you lifted your arms to encircle his waist before sinking down to the mattress, your bodies slotting together as you held each other..

as soon as he could gather himself again, hyunjin spoke.

“i just want to spend forever with you but–” he didn’t have to say what it was. you didn’t want him to, afraid that admitting it aloud would cause your world of illusion to disappear.

“what will we do?” you asked, your heart breaking at the sight of him. tears welling up in your own eyes.

after a moment of silence, hyunjin slowly placed the pendant around his own neck and took your hand, pulling you up quickly. with one deep breath, he reached for the door the same door you came in from, pulling you alongside him as he lifted the iron handle of his door.

you followed, and with a flash of light, you stood on a green hillside at sunrise, grass under your bare feet, your bare body now covered with a white dress of his creation. you looked up at him and found him dressed not in robes, but in a simple white tunic and pants, the wind touseling the fabric.

he held both your hands as you gazed out behind him, the breathtaking view of the similar countryside dotted with stone fences and thatched roof cottages. everything around you felt calm, including the look in his eyes. “why here?” you asked.

“because,” he replied, “in a place like this, i’m just hyunjin, and you’re just you.”

tears welled in your eyes as he reached up to stroke your cheek. perhaps it was for the last time, you thought with a twinge in your chest, maybe this was the end for the two of you. you couldn’t go on like this. but his lips fluttered lightly over yours, pulling your eyes up to meet him when he released the kiss. his hands found your face, and you waited for the final goodbye.

but you found forever in his eyes. hyunjin tucked the pendant into his shirt and offered you his hand. you took it and began to walk alongside him, over the rolling hill, toward where the sun was now peeking over the horizon.

he squeezed your hand in an unspoken promise.

he’d leave everything behind, the kingdom, everything – to stay here with you. he would wander these pastures by your side for the rest of his days, hand in hand.

maybe this world was merely a fantasy, but it was the place you could be together. it was real as long as you were together.

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

[mirkwoodshewolf]

An ultimate sacrifice; Pharaoh Atem x reader

*Author’s note*

Now this could end really good or really bad. Back in my early teenage days, in my middle school years when I FIRST began my journey into writing fanfiction, the fandom I ALWAYS wrote for was from my childhood anime YUGIOH DUEL MONSTERS! Now I haven’t written any anime fics in practically 10 years so this might be rusty. Also idk if I’ll follow through with this story cause I can see this oneshot becoming a series idk we’ll have to see. But to those YUGIOH! fans out there on tumblr, I hope you enjoy this.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@soy-guey​

_______________________________________________________

There was hardly any hope left.  All of Egypt was covered in complete darkness, no mortal weapon has worked, more than half of our armies have perished to the realm of shadows, even our beloved Egyptian Gods have fallen.  Zorc the Dark One has proven to be the most difficult adversary that our kingdom has ever faced.

Our Pharaoh was barely clinging onto life as the Egyptian Gods who were now shadows of their former selves were literally being broken down by Zorc’s wrath.

“Mana, you and the High Sorceress get the Pharaoh back to the palace.” Our priest Seto told us.

“But what about you?” asked Mana, my dearest friend and my love’s top student.

“The pharaoh is too weak to continue this fight. He needs to get somewhere safe. Leave Zorc to me.”

“Seto are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked him.

“We have tried everything in our power, even the Egyptian Gods themselves have been defeated. But there might be a creature with a light strong enough to banish this darkness once and for all, and I alone have the power to summon it.” He and I looked at each other and I nodded to him. I knew he needed to be the one to do this, from the grief I felt in him of losing the love he had found I knew he needed to redeem himself in my eyes.

“Make sure that demon doesn’t set one foot towards the palace gates.” I ordered as Mana and I worked together to get our King back to the palace to restore whatever strength he had left.

Mana and I reached the palace and we set the Pharaoh down on his bed.  He looked terribly weak and drained, almost as if he were in a deep sleep, his chest barely able to rise and fall normally.

“Mana, heal him of his strength.” She nodded and placed her hand over the pharaoh’s chest, her hand glowed brightly as she chanted out.

“As we approach our final hour, please restore the pharaoh’s power.” She kept repeating it over and over and over again. After the 7th time she said it, his violet eyes soon opened up.  “You’re awake!”

“Where is Zorc?” he asked us.  It was then we heard a powerful roar pierce through the sky, but it didn’t sound like Slifer the Sky Dragon’s roar, neither did it sound like Zorc’s.  Our pharaoh got up but I ordered him.

“Atem, you need to rest!” we all stood along the balcony and saw a beautiful white dragon facing down the Dark One single handedly.  Attacking with a powerful white lightning blast.

“No way! I’ve heard about this dragon from the villagers! They were saying a dragon with blue eyes powerful enough to destroy cities had come to our kingdom. But I thought it was only rumors.” Mana explained.

“Well it would seem you were mistaken Mana. But who knows how long this dragon will face up against Zorc. This is a demon that was able to destroy the Egyptian Gods with a wave of darkness.” I said. We watched the battle for a few minutes till I suggested to Mana, “Mana, go help Seto.”

“What? I can’t just leave you both here alone!” she exclaimed.

“Seto may be holding out on his own for now but he’ll need help. And you alone have the power to do just that.”

“But—”

“That’s an order! Not only as your Master but as your Queen! Now Go!” I ordered her.  She looked at me fearfully but her eyes narrowed as she nodded proudly.

“Yes Master Nefertiri. I’ll do my best to keep Zorc away from the palace.” I nodded and placed my hands on her shoulders.

“I know you will. And…….” I trailed off sadly. “And I know he would be proud of you too.” She nodded before we embraced each other and she took off running with her wand in hand.  I turned back to the battle to now see that Seto’s white dragon was starting to lose.

“Tiri.” I heard my pharaoh say to me as he took my hand.  I faced him and saw that his face had a grim, surrendered expression on his face. “It’s time.” He said gravely.

My eyes widened.  No. He—he wouldn’t dare suggest that. How dare he even think about that!

“No!” I growled lowly.

“Seto and Mana won’t be able to stop Zorc, but you can.” I turned away from him. “Look at me!” he spoke in hushed urgency. “You have the power to seal all of this away…..”

“Hold your tongue!” I hissed.

“You must do it, Tiri please!” I kept looking between him and the battle to see Zorc had defeated Seto’s white dragon and Mana’s Ka was barely hanging on.  I looked down at my pharaoh, my lip quivering as he placed my hand to his cheek and he told me, “There’s no other option left.”

Tears filled my eyes and my heart sunk.  I had already lost so many people to this war, I—I cannot bear to lose him too.

“I can’t.” I choked out.

“Yes you can.” He assured me. “You can. If Zorc succeeds in destroying Egypt, then the world will be next. It’s not fair. It shouldn’t have to be you but it is.” I shook my head as a couple of tears seeped down my cheeks.

I slowly backed away from him, but he kept his hands tightly gripped around my hand.  I knew he could feel me trembling which is why he ended up squeezing my hand even tighter trying to comfort me.

“It’s alright. You could never hurt me.” He slowly released my hand and gave me a soft, solemn smile. “You are my older sister.”

My dear sweet baby brother.  All these years of practicing magic together, helping rule Egypt just as our father would have wanted, staying together, never apart. That was the vow we both took together. And now you are willing to seal this evil away along with yourself in order to keep the world safe.  

But he also knew that this spell would cause him to erase his memories so even if he is ever brought back into this world, he will not remember anything, not even his own name.

For his name is the key to seal all of this away.

My hand shakingly raised up and my sapphire magical aura came out of my hand before shooting straight at his Millennium Puzzle.  The blue light from my magic and the golden light from my brother’s Millennium puzzle combined into one, molding together in a battle between Light and Dark.

In order for this to work, I needed to overpower the item’s magic with my own, then merge that power within my brother’s very soul before finally sealing him away for all eternity.

I could hear the defeated cries of Seto’s dragon and Mana trying so hard to keep Zorc away for just a bit longer.  I raised my other hand to now combine my brother’s mind and spirit to the Puzzle itself and I was running out of time. All the while tears kept pouring down my face as I watched my brother’s body slowly disintegrate until it only his spirit remained.

Once it was just his spirit, I turned to see Zorc just within a few feet of the palace.  I raised my left hand and soon morphing into it was the very item I would use to seal Zorc away, the item that once belonged to my beloved Mahad.

The Millennium Ring.

The spikes pointed forward and it’s own magic combined with my own shot right at Zorc who roared in agony but still tried to walk towards my brother and I.  Atem kept reassuring me that it was all going to be alright, but no matter what he said, no matter how many times he assured me and gave me that soft smile of his, my heart continued to break.

Zorc was now standing over us, his clawed hand raised ready to kill us both but my brother’s spirit soon proclaimed out his name.

‘I love you sister.’ His spirit told me one last time.  He then turned to Zorc and proclaimed the key to ending all of this. ‘ATEM!!!’ and with that a great big light exploded from the palace and all went white.

I was surrounded by warmth and light, a light that I felt like I hadn’t felt in an eternity.  When I finally opened my eyes, I had seen that the Sun had finally been freed from the darkness.  I slowly sat up and saw that half the palace was destroyed and the kingdom was in ruin, but I could hear my people cheering.

It was finally over.  Zorc had been sealed away and the darkness he had released upon the world was finally gone.  But through all the cheers and joyous exclamations, my heart was still broken. Especially when I saw a piece of my brother’s Millennium Puzzle just an arm’s length away from me.

I reached forward and grabbed it to see it was the center piece with the eye of Horus staring right at me.  From the sun’s light, it gave me a wink but that still didn’t give me any hope.  I clenched the piece in my palm before pressing it over my heart and softly wept.

Using my magic I forged a special box to keep all the pieces of my brother’s Millennium puzzle and I used my magic to help me find all of the pieces the puzzle had.

It took about an hour to find all of them even with magic but after finally getting the last piece, I closed the box and sealed it tight with a spell.  Only those with a pure heart can touch this box, and if that wielder should be worthy of solving this puzzle, they are allowed one wish and shall also receive knowledge and powers of the Millennium Puzzle.

I walked along the ruins of the palace and was even more heartbroken to see my student and best friend Mana’s soulless body lying there on the ground.  I walked over to her and rolled her onto her back, her once lively hazel eyes were now completely soulless.

“My dearest friend. You fought valiantly, more so than any magician I’ve helped train.” I closed her eyes and placed her hands over her stomach with her wand in her hands, I rested my forehead against hers. “May Ra bless you in the next life, and may you reunite with our friends and your Master.” I kissed her forehead and placed my blue cloak over her body, covering her up.

I walked along the city to see the villagers trying to clean up the mess along with the guards that did survive.  I stood beside Seto whose soul had managed to be saved after Zorc’s defeat by using his white dragon monster.  We stood side by side and I told him.

“It’s not going to be easy but this kingdom will rise again. And you will see to it that it does Seto.”

“Huh?”

“There are a few tasks that I must complete.”

“What? But my Queen you…….”

“I relinquished the throne to my brother when he came of age. I am only the High Sorceress to the throne, and nothing else.”

“But after everything we’ve been through. This kingdom will need a leader who will lead them to the light.”

“And who better to do that than you Seto?” he looked down, his blue eyes full of doubt. “Please cousin, it has to be you. If my brother believed in you, then so do I. Trust the light in your soul.”

“The light in my soul?” I knew then he had to be thinking of his beloved Kisara.  “Alright cousin. I shall fulfill this task for you.”

“Thank you. Now I must ask you to hand over your Millennium Rod. This whole war was caused because of those items, and I shall see to it that they are buried somewhere where no man will ever find them. They must never be used again to bring forth the darkness again.” He handed over the Millennium Rod and I continued.  “I will also ask that you erase any trace of my brother’s name from every history book and stone we’ve got. For whilst his name was used to seal away the darkness, it can also be used to bring it back. Promise me you will honor my brother’s wish and erase his name from History. But never forget what he did for his kingdom and the entire world.”

“I will.” I kneeled before him before taking my leave, but not before asking Seto to give Mana a Guardian’s burial, for she fought just as hard as the rest of the Guardians that have given their lives to protect this kingdom.

I rode through the desert towards the abandoned city of Kul Elna, the once restless spirits were now quiet, almost as if they had left this world.  I went to the underground where the Millennium Stone tablet stood and offered up half of the items to the stone.  I surrendered the Millennium Eye, Scale, Key and the Ring.

I glared down at the Ring and snarled softly.

“If you dare resurrect yourself again, I will end you.” I then left the city and went on my next task.

My family had always spoken of a family that had always been entrusted with guarding the Pharaoh’s tomb so I paid them a visit to ask them to not only look after my brother’s tomb, but also to keep two more Millennium items safe and sound.  I gave Namu Ishtar the Millennium Rod and Necklace and he gave his vow that not only he but his descendents will protect the Pharaoh’s tomb from all threats and invaders.

Finally I delivered my brother’s Millennium Puzzle to the Valley of the Kings.  The place where every pharaoh in history had been buried.  For my brother’s tomb I ensured that every trap and riddle was as difficult to solve as possible (my brother and I always did love our games). But it was also to ensure that my brother’s spirit would never be disturbed or taken away from this place, less they be worthy of him.

Once I reached the end of the tomb, I walked across the pathway and set the box down on a stand.  I gingerly stroked the box as a tear slowly slid down my face.

“Little brother…….one day. One day soon. We will meet again.” I lifted my hand and kissed my fingertips before placing them back on the box.  I then lifted my hood back over my head and left my brother’s tomb.  When I was once again outside, I noticed that it was finally nightfall, Khonsu’s light graced the land of Egypt.

The last trip is probably what broke my heart even more.  For out in the far reaches of the desert was a small hut.  But what was special about this hut was that all of my favorite flowers had grown all around the property.  For being out in the middle of the desert, you would think a sudden oasis would be an illusion, well it’s not. Not really.

For this special place was the home that Mahad and I had made together.  Our love was technically forbidden but for our love, we’d be willing to accept all the risks.  My brother and Mana were the only ones really aware of our relationship together, so if there ever came a day when Mahad was forced to resign as Guardian, he and I would come here to be together.

I summoned a scroll of paper into my hand and slowly unfolded it and saw the design of what we had planned out.  A hut, a beautiful garden surrounding the place, a crystal clear pond along with a well, and a large training ground for us to continue our magic lessons together, and—one day maybe even train our children on.

But now those dreams are shattered.  Mahad had willingly sacrificed himself to become both my brother’s as well as my eternal servant as a creature known as the Dark Magician.

The inscription below in Mahad’s signature read as followed.

FOR MY BELOVED QUEEN, OUR MAGICAL OASIS.

-Mahad

Tears once again pooled into my eyes as I walked towards the hut and walked inside of it.  My body trembled as I finally collapsed to my knees, the paper scroll falling from my hands as I whimpered and wept softly.

First my father, then my friends, my brother, and then Mahad.  Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken away from me! Why must I be the one to suffer through such pain and suffering?!

I finally couldn’t take it anymore.  I felt my power surging through me like a raging fire until finally I couldn’t hold it in any longer.  I exploded! My sapphire aura shot out in all directions as I let out an agonizing, heart-breaking scream.  Our hut and the property around it being destroyed and forged into something new.

A tomb.  My tomb.

Stone and brick built all around me, the once green oasis that Mahad and I had grown together with our magic decimated and reverted back to the hot, hard sand.  Once the tomb was built I sent my energy out towards all of Egypt now, to erase everyone from my mind.

I didn’t just want to be forgotten, I wanted to be erased.  For how can one live with their lives knowing that their legacy was sealing their own flesh and blood away in order to save the world? I for sure could never live with myself hearing the tale over and over again.  I re-wrote it so that it was my brother and my brother alone had found the spell and casted it to save Mankind from the Shadow Games.

Once that was done, I turned the magic onto myself for one final spell.  Well I should say curse.  To pay for what I’ve done to my family and in a way to spare myself the heartache of losing my Beloved Magician.  I collapsed to the ground, my eyes closed in sleep.

An ageless sleep.  For I was to be put under this curse until the day my brother would be released from his prison.  Our souls bound as one, sealed and trapped away from the world.  And for 5000 years we were, until we would soon be reunited again.

[princehrry-writings]

Moon Over The Meadow

this is my very first harry fic!!! i want to write more for them so if you would be interested in that please let me know!!

word count: 3234

warnings: mentions of death, i don't think anything else though.

It was here that Y/n learned to live off the beaten path she had always known, in the midst of the forest green that was her lover's eyes.

or

Harry is the prince and Y/n is a peasant.

.

.

.

.

There wasn’t much to do in the light of day. Not a single shadow to hide in, every corner of the kingdom touched by a ray of sunshine. People would see them. See him. And that just wouldn’t do.

Harry couldn’t be seen by anyone, no. They would ask too many questions, alert the guards, something would go wrong. He couldn’t put her in that kind of danger. So they agreed. Tonight, when the moon peeks over the trees in the meadow, they will flee.

They will find their freedom.

Y/n had never been one to stray too far from the beaten path. Her mother would never allow her to. Is your life really worth something as silly as this, child? She would gripe, fingers bruising the plushy flesh of her upper arm. One could say she was beaten into submission, although her mother never did much in the physical realm or harming her. It was always a look, a tug, and her words. God her words cut deeper than any knife ever could, she was sure of it.

But then she met Harry. By some magical happenstance, one day tending to the gardenia bushes in the garden furthest away from the castle, she stumbled upon the prince. He rested on a bench with a journal laid upon his lap, tears lightly raining down his flushed skin, a soft frown etched across his pink lips. She quietly sat down next to him, with no intention of saying anything, just letting him know he wasn’t alone in his pain. Whatever kind it may be.

She had known of him her whole life, having worked in the palace with her mother since she was just a child, but hadn’t seen him in what felt like an eternity. She remembers afternoons drenched in a golden haze, running around these very grounds with the likes of him and whatever children were amongst the castle, until she was ripped away by her mother just the same as she always was when she strayed too far from the sidewalk. Somewhere deep in her mind, Y/n knew why her mother acted the way she did. Kept her locked away like she had done her whole life.

It was to protect her. The King could be very cruel to anything and anyone that stepped too far out of line. Her mother was terrified that one day her daughter's wild imagination and wanderlust tendencies would get her into the wrong situation at the wrong time, with the wrong people. All she wanted was to protect her precious Y/n. This was the only way she knew how.

Harry, as angelic as he had been as a child, she recalls, slowly slid closer to her, remembering the days they would sneak away and play together until his keeper would come yelling for him. Any and all communication had been hastily cut off with her as soon as his keeper realized where he was and what he was doing. Thankfully for both of the children, it was never discovered who he was with. But nonetheless, Harry was kept under tight lock and key. His keeper would lose her head if the king found out that his son was galavanting around his castle with the help.

But on this day, in the garden amongst the Gardenias, their souls re-intertwined themselves as if they were still those young little kids, playing damsel in distress in the warm afternoon sunlight, as if they had lost no time at all. The only difference now being that they talked instead of played, kissed instead of screamed, and fell into a real love instead of one carelessly crafted from a children's game.

This went on for weeks, months it seemed. Meeting under the disguise of Y/n working in the farthest garden and Harry wandering off to a quiet corner for his studies. It was here, cushioned by soft grass under their bare bodies, that Y/n learned to live off the beaten path she had always known, in the midst of the forest green that was her lover's eyes.

“Petal, we can't stay here,” He sighed one summer afternoon. A mimicked sigh fell from his Love’s lips. She knew they couldn’t. This thought had plagued her mind, keeping her from sleep most nights. In their world, the prince doesn’t get to fall in love with the peasant girl and live happily ever after. A fairytale ending had never been an option on the table.

The only way they’d get to be happy was if they fled the only life they had ever known.

“I know, H. What are we to do though? Where do we go?” It was hard to imagine being anywhere but the castle grounds. But she knew that no matter where she went, as long as Harry was with her, she would be safe.

“We can find a clearing, far away from here, deep in the woods. Somewhere they won’t ever look, and I can build us a cottage, and we can have a garden just like this one. We won’t have to worry about doing the wrong thing in the King’s eyes, or saying the wrong words. We won’t have to hide ourselves.” He said, a dreamy glaze over his eyes.

“You’ll build us a cottage? How? We won’t have anything Harry!” The girl exclaimed. Sure, she knew they had to leave, that they couldn’t stay. But the reality that they truly had nowhere to go was setting in like a thick heavy fog, distracting her from anything else.

“M’love, look at this,” He whispered, taking her hand in his. His free hand came up in front of him, palm out, facing the grass below them. A flower sprouted right before their eyes, out of nowhere. Y/n gasped. Harry had never told anyone this secret. Nobody but his mother knew, and she had passed away three years prior during childbirth complications. Now the only person that knew of his secret was his Love.

It wasn’t a surprise that the Queen had never told the King of her affliction. He would have lost his head, and in turn- she would have lost hers. So she kept it from him, and when her only child began to show the signs that he too possessed such essence, she knew she had to protect him from the likes of his father. She never loved that man, she only ever wished for him to suddenly fall ill so as to free her and her son from his fury, but alas it has been her that faced such a fate.

Harry knew what he would face if anyone other than his Love were to know. It was why he hadn’t told her until now.

“This is how I’ll build our home. You’ll not want for anything, m’love. Whatever it is you desire, just tell me and I’ll make it so,” He had dreamed since he was a child to be able to spoil the girl sitting next to him. Y/n’s effervescent eyes grew wide. She felt a new warmth spread through her at this discovery, now she knew for a fact that as long as she had him, she was safe. For he had just proved to her that he was more than capable.

“Why have you never told me? Did you thinkI would judge you?” Panic grew in the girl's chest. How could her lover think she would ever judge him.

“No, no, no Pet, I didn’t tell you for your own safety! My father is a very cruel man and he would stop at nothing to have my head if he knew about this. I couldn’t bear to live if he went after you because of me so I kept to myself.” Her eyes softened at this and the warmth grew even stronger. She truly did love this boy, he was the only one who’d ever looked at her and seen a person. Not just a peasant girl or a daughter whose only job is to cook and clean and tend to the garden. Harry saw much more for his Love. He saw greatness for her, and he would stop at nothing to give her just that.

So now here they are, standing at the edge of the trees, moon over the meadow, ready to leave behind the only thing they’d ever known. Harry could feel his Love’s pulse racing, he knew she was scared. She had assured him many times that it was only because she was afraid of what lay ahead, not because she didn’t want to go. They both knew that Harry wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

The girl had left a letter to her mother on the pillow she used to rest her head upon. Part of her felt bad for leaving the woman behind, but she had no choice. Her mother wouldn't approve of this and she certainly wouldn’t come. She would scold her daughter for running away. Your problems don’t leave just because you do, child. You must face them or they will haunt you forever. Y/n felt she wasn’t running away from her problems though, because this was the only solution. There was no way to make the King accept their love. So they could either leave or dare to sit and watch what would become of their life. Harry would end up married off or dead, Y/n would, well- she’d be dead either way. She couldn’t breathe without Harry by her side.

In the shadow of the moonlight, Harry led them through the forest. The guards had been alerted that the prince was not in his chambers so they didn’t have much time. They needed to move fast. He went where his intuition led him, moving obstacles out of the way with a small flick of his hand as they went. In the distance, he could hear the cries of men searching for him and the loud cracks of whips used to keep their horses moving.

His Love hummed a tune to distract herself from the loud noises and fear she felt heavy in her chest, Harry’s hand clutched in hers so he didn’t lose her. It was dark but they never stumbled and they never felt danger get too close. Y/n assumed Harry had something to do with that. Every so often they would pause and rest, Y/n’s head laid upon his chest, his back against a tree. His heartbeat kept her own steady as she matched her breathing to his. He had always been able to calm her down by just being near her. His presence was all she needed to feel at peace.

Harry laid his lips on the top of her head, his hand lightly stroking her hair.

“What will we do in the morning light when people can see us?” They had been traveling most of the night now, but she didn’t quite know how far they had made it. She just knew they had lost the guards. Their breaks didn’t last more than 5-10 minutes so as not to waste time, but they were traveling by foot so they couldn’t have made it too terribly far.

“We’re quite close m’love, so I assume we will be arriving just as the sun is ascending. I’ll have you rest while I place a protection barrier around the perimeter of the clearing and then I’ll get started on the cottage so you won’t need to worry about a thing.” He said, dusting his thumb across her cheekbone.

“Will people be able to see our home from outside the clearing?” She was worried about wandering strangers stumbling upon them and causing trouble. Harry beamed at the girl before him.

“I’ll make it so that people can’t find us Petal. We will be safe, I promise you.” This put his Love at ease and they got up to return to their journey when there was a rustling noise next to them. Y/n froze and slowly turned to see a bush being disturbed and clung to Harry in fear that something was about to jump and attack them. To her surprise, it was a small cat.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself little one?” Y/n sunk to her knees as the animal walked over. Harry’s heart almost burst right out of his chest at the precious sight in front of him. His Love had always had a soft spot for animals. When they were little she used to pretend she could talk to them and understand what they were saying. He used to think maybe she really could because, hey- he could make things appear out of nowhere- but it turns out she was just a very imaginative little girl. He loved her nonetheless so he would happily take care of animal communication if need be.

But just because his Love couldn’t understand what the animals were saying doesn’t mean she didn’t love to talk to them.

The little cat, who was small enough to warrant calling her a kitten, nuzzled right up the Y/n. She practically had hearts for eyes when looking at the little furball. She was a beautiful black kitten with starry blue eyes that could be seen even in the darkness, as they reflected the light of the moon.

“You are just the cutest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” she beamed, “Harry we can’t just leave her!” He knew this was coming. He also knew she’d always wanted a cat of her own but the King was allergic, so cat’s were not allowed on castle grounds. That man would have killed her and the cat.

Harry never was able to resist the puppy dog eyes his Love was so good at giving him. Not that she had to do much begging to get him to do anything. He would do whatever she wanted, because when she was happy so was he.

“What should we name her?” He asked and a smile as bright as the sun and stars combined spread across her face. He would do anything to see that smile everyday.

“We can think of names on the way! Come little one, we’re your family now!” Y/n scooped the kitten into her arms as a motor-like pur erupted from her little chest. The kitten rolled over in her arms and nuzzled against her chest, falling asleep immediately. It was like a match made in the stars.

They kept walking, Harry still waving away obstacles to keep his Love from stumbling, and eventually they arrived at a clearing, surrounded by trees at the base of a mountain with a small river flowing through and flowers blooming all around. It was a place Y/n could have only mustered up in a dream, and now she was going to live there. It was more than she could have ever wished for.

Harry led her to a soft spot in the grass and she laid down. He could tell she was about to fall asleep on her feet. As soon as she laid her head down, she was out like a light with the kitten snuggled up to her. Harry cast his hand, warming the ground to keep them comfortable and got to work casting the protection charm. He made it so that people wouldn’t be able to see them or penetrate the barrier, but animals could roam freely.

As he worked the morning sun began to peak over the trees. The whistles of the flowing river served as calming background noise and the singing birds aided the ethereal glow that was cast all around the meadow that Harry and his Love now called home. He could see them living a long beautiful life there. One free of judgment and fear.

Harry hoped to raise a family here. He wanted to raise children who knew what it was like to have their fathers unconditional love, to see what it was like for a father to love a mother, something he hadn’t been privy to growing up.

Y/n woke up to Harry whistling a tune as he went about gathering little things like flowers and twigs. A small flower had been tucked into her hair, on top of her ear, she couldn’t help but smile. As she sat up, she stretched her body, letting out little groans of relief that alerted Harry his Love had awoken.

He strolled over to her and sat down, pulling the girl into his lap. His heart swelled as she buried her face into his neck, running her hand across his chest.

With a kiss to the top of her head, he whispered, “Good morning my sweet girl.”

“Good morning my love,” She sleepily replied, voice still raspy. She still felt tired but not enough to stay asleep and the sun was now too bright for her to rest peacefully.

“I’ve finished the perimeter, I’m going to work on the cottage now. Is there a particular way you’d like it to look?” He asked, stroking her hair lightly. She hummed in contentness before giving him an answer.

“Whatever you create, I will love. As long as there is a roof over our heads to keep us safe from the rain, I will be happy!” He felt her smile against his neck. Running his fingertips along her back, he sighed in adoration of the sleepy girl in his arms. If he could spend every day like this, he would be just fine.

“Alright Petal, can you grab my hand please and focus on taking deep breaths for me.” He asked her, holding his palm out. She took it without question and cleared her head of all thoughts. Harry’s other hand dug lightly into the ground beside him. Y/n felt a small buzzing where she was connected with the boy, and she opened her eyes to see his were closed. A dim golden glow surrounded their hands, surprising her.

Harry had never cast any spells that used this much energy so he knew that he would need the help of his Love. Y/n figured it would be best if she closed her eyes again so she did and waited for Harry to let her know when he was finished. It didn’t take but a few minutes for him to stroke her hair and ask her to look up. When she did, she saw a beautiful cottage. Long vines of Ivy twisted up the beautiful white brick walls, A wrap around covered porch with flower boxes sat atop the railing, and a bay window where Y/n could picture herself reading on sunny afternoons just like this one. It was perfect.

“Harry,” She gasped. This was more than she could have ever imagined. She absolutely loved it.

“Is it ok?” He asked tentatively.

“Love, it’s more than ok! It’s amazing, it’s perfect. Thank you thank you thank you!!!” She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face.

“I did good?” He smirked, rubbing her side before wrapping her tightly in his embrace.

“You did wonderful! I love it and I love you!” She gazed into his eyes before leaning up and pressing her lips to his in a kiss full of passion and gratitude.

Harry doesn’t think he could ever get tired of kissing his Love.

[laschatzi]

It’s Forever

After What His Captain Needs, here’s another little bit of Killian/Smee friendship, sparked and inspired by @thesschesthair. And of course be sure to check out her own Killian/Smee tale Who Is She?

summary:  Mr. Smee has more or less settled into his new life in Storybrooke and hasn't seen a lot of his Captain in some time, when one evening he approaches him and seems to have something on his mind.

rating: G

word count: ~1,6k

also on: ao3 and ff.net

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

“Here you go, William!” Granny puts a plate in front of him, loaded with an enormous burger and fried mozzarella sticks. Leaning a little forward, she tells him in a conspiratorial voice, “And I made that extra cheese super extra.” She has a soft spot for him since Marco has taken him under his wings, because she has a soft spot for Marco.

Smee’s eyes light up, and he beams. “Thank you! You’re too good to me!”

Granny waves him off grumpily, “I know, I know,” and leaves him to his dinner.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to have more than two healthy bites and one mozzarella stick, before he’s interrupted by a shadow falling on the table and a well-known voice. 

“Evening, Mr. Smee.”

He puts his burger down and raises his gaze, and like always, he has to look that second longer to make sure it’s him, because even after a few weeks – and he hasn’t seen that much of him lately – he just hasn’t gotten used to the Captain’s new, modern wardrobe yet. With uncharacteristic caution, he motions his hook to the bench opposite him.

“May I?”

If he’s being honest, Smee isn’t too happy about the interruption, but decades over decades of being the First Mate to his Captain are ingrained in his brain – far would it be from him to deny him any request; so he nods immediately.

“Of course, sir.”

The Captain slides into the booth and motions between them with his ringed hand – Smee notices that, in spite of his wardrobe change, he kept the rings and the necklace and is also wearing an earring, and he’s somehow relieved about that.

“It’s been too long,” the Captain says jovially and sounds weirdly guilty at the same time.

“Well, a lot has been going on,” Smee offers, “with that Snow Queen and the Dark One’s latest schemes.”

The Captain clenches his jaw. “Luckily, his wife fixed that. He won't bother anyone ever again.” He shakes his head once, as if he's trying to clear his mind. “Anyway, I wanted to speak to you sooner.”

“About what, Cap'n?”

But instead of an answer, he wants to know, “Did you get your memories back? Of what happened in the past year?”

Ah, that's what's on his mind. “Aye,” he responds in a neutral tone.

“Then you remember we found the Jolly Roger again?” the Captain asks in a – for him – unusually tentative way.

“You took her back from Blackbeard,” Smee nods and rubs his beard. “One day, we harbored in a port, and when the crew and I returned to the docks, the ship was gone.” After the tiniest break, he adds, “And so were you.” The Captain averts his eyes, but he barely notices, because suddenly, he remembers another detail. “It happened the same day that bird had landed aboard!”

“That bird,” the Captain replies, “carried a message from Baelfire.”

“Baelfire, sir?” Smee frowns. “The Dark One’s son?”

“The very same.” He tilts his head. “The message said a new curse was coming and endangering everyone, and that I needed to find the Savior.”

“Hm.” Smee nods and briefly gazes longingly at his remaining mozzarella sticks but then looks back at the Captain when he clears his throat, obviously feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Look, I didn’t like leaving everyone behind,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to put the crew’s lives at risk.” He tilts his head. “And, well… I thought I had a better shot if I went alone.”

Smee nods again, almost solemnly. “You’re a hell of a captain.”

“I did manage to outrun the curse,” the Captain agrees almost humbly and falls silent, as if he’s contemplating how to continue, which has the surprise of his First Mate increase. He has never seen his Captain at a loss for words, and he surely never has given off the vibe that he’s trying to apologize or even just explain himself. This encounter is getting stranger by the minute, even if the Captain’s uncharacteristic behavior isn’t unpleasant at all.

“So,” Smee prompts, “the Jolly Roger is in the Land Without Magic, the town where the Savior lived during the last year?”

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “Now now, Mr. Smee, you know the ship cannot travel between realms without a magic bean or some other sort of portal.” There’s a glimpse of his old gruffness, but it’s still overlaid by that unusual hint of self-consciousness.

“Of course, sir.”

“Alas,” he continues and tilts his head, “I didn’t have my resourceful First Mate with me to procure one, so I had to…” He pauses for a moment, licks his lips and then looks him straight in the eyes. “I had to trade the ship for a magic bean.”

So that’s what’s weighing on him. Suddenly, the Captain’s odd behavior during the past year in the Enchanted Forest – he seemed restless and driven, almost haunted, all the time, didn’t seem interested in women anymore – makes sense. She’s not just a ship. I haven’t been myself since we’ve returned. It’s because I don’t have her.

His mouth curves into a smile. “Can’t say that I’m surprised.” The Captain raises his eyebrows in question, and Smee explains, “All the time in the Enchanted Forest, you weren’t missing your ship, sir. You were missing your love.”

“And since when are you a mind reader, Mr. Smee?” he snarls, but with a remarkable lack of sharpness.

Smee shrugs. “Any First Mate worth his salt should be able to understand what's going on in his Captain's mind,” he replies calmly.

“You’ve always been worth yours, Mr. Smee,” the Captain admits and briefly rubs a spot behind his ear. “But I’m afraid I don’t know when – or even if – I’ll ever get the ship back.”

Smee snorts softly. “Would that even make a difference, sir?” The Captain doesn’t look like he wants to protest, and he adds, “We both know you won’t be going anywhere.”

Without even trying to contradict Smee’s statement, the Captain runs his hand over his mouth. “All those decades we spent chasing the Dark One, my revenge…” He shakes his head and falls silent.

Smee is amazed by the guilt in his eyes and feels the mighty urge to let him know that’s absolutely not necessary. “They were not wasted,” he reassures, “they were part of the journey.” The Captain doubtfully sways his head from side to side, and Smee says firmly, “After three hundred years, a man is allowed to settle down.” And find happiness, he adds in his mind, but doesn’t dare to say it.

The blue eyes he's often seen angry, severe, sarcastic study him searchingly. “Are you trying to?” the Captain inquires, honest concern in his voice.

“Sort of, I guess,” he replies with a shrug. “The local carpenter needed help, and I–”

“You were always adroit with wood,” the Captain acknowledges with a nod, and Smee smiles at the accolade.

“He also offered me a room above the carpentry,” he goes on, the Captain’s genuine interest warming his heart; but then, he’s always been taking care of his crew, so it really shouldn’t surprise him. “It’s a start.”

“It surely is.” He leans forward, and Smee registers that the floral patterns of his shirt seem to bear some resemblance to one of his favorite vests he remembers from the past – a bright red one that the ladies seemed to like in particular. “Mr. Smee, I never planned any of this,” he tells him and waves his hand around vaguely.

“A new adventure, then,” he suggests, and the Captain huffs a little laugh, making him think again that he somehow likes this new side of the man he’s known for three centuries now.

“An awfully big one,” the Captain agrees with a serious nod, “might be the biggest one yet.”

A little touch of self-doubt clings to his words, as if he isn’t really sure yet that he’s fit for this new life, trading three hundred years of rogueish restlessness for a patch of dirt and a prickly woman who comes with her very own burdens, if what he heard around the town is true, one of them being the Savior and a hero. But then again, he very obviously loves her, and the last weeks have proven that Captain Hook, the most cutthroat pirate Captain to ever sail the Seven Seas, is on the best way to become a hero himself, and Smee feels an absurd touch of pride about that.

He grins. “We’ll surely master it, Cap’n.” The Captain smiles briefly, as if he’s somehow relieved, and Smee adds, “I’ll just occasionally miss… hanging with the crew.” He doesn’t say what he really means.

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “But Mr. Smee,” he softly reprimands, “settling down and starting over doesn’t mean you have to cut off all the ties to your former life and burn your boats.”

“It does not?”

“Why, of course not!” he affirms and elaborates, “You can give up a pirate’s life anytime you want. But friendship?” He leans forward and tilts his head in his inimitable way. “It’s forever.”

He doesn’t say what he really means either, Smee suspects. But he knows, and that’s enough for him.

[author-morgan]

Hello, dear! Best wishes to you, I hope you are doing well. If you take any requests about m!Eivor, could you please write the story about how he saw in his dream (or Valka trip) a reader and fell inlove with them, but then met them in real life? A bit of magic never disturbs. ;D Thank you, I love your writing!

here you are! hope you enjoy and apologies for the wait! guest appearance by Havi!

m!Eivor x fem!Reader 

IT IS A rare thing when King of the Æsir comes to Fensalir of his own volition —leaving behind the golden hall and his score of warriors. He walks at the edge of the water through the tall grasses with Huginn resting on his shoulder and Muninn flying overhead. His gaze lingers ahead to a figure clothed in white, picking flowers and herbs. Frigg —a smile pulls at his lips— my queen. Huginn leaps into the sky when he pushes back his dark hood, stepping closer to where his heart and troubled mind have led him. 

“Havi,” you greet, having foreseen his arrival and the reason for it. Rising from the patch of white blooms —Baldr’s brow, you named them, after your beloved son— you brush the dirt from your hands and smooth down the front of your white gown. He stands before you as few have seen him, vulnerable and seeking guidance for a storm brews in the depths of his mind. The clouds gather, shadowing his clear blue gaze and giving him the countenance of a man walking the path to self-destruction. It is a look you do not like to see in any man, especially your husband. 

He does not explain his coming —long has the giant, Vafþrúðnir, dwelled in your husband’s mind for no other reason save the claim he is the wisest being in the nine realms. Taking Havi’s hand, you lead him to a bench at the edge of the fen-water, thinking of ways to dissuade him from a needless battle of strength or wit. You peer up at him from beneath your lashes, thumb running across his knuckles. “You are ever wise, husband–” Havi’s lips kink into a half-smile at the praise though it falters a moment later as you continue “–but Vafþrúðnir is the all the wiser.”

Two ravens with dark feathers shining like an oil slick in the pale sun come to perch —Huginn sits proudly on Havi’s shoulder, Muninn on yours. If it is only concern Havi has for the movement and dealings of the mighty Jötunn, then his ravens would suffice, but the look he wears is not one of mere concern. Muninn croaks at your ear as though he agrees with your thoughts. You reach up, stroking the feathers of Muninn’s underbelly. “Send Huginn or Muninn in your stead,” you supplicate, watching the crooked smile creep up onto his lips.

“Sweet Frigg,” Havi says, bemused by what he considers your concern, “you doubt me still.”

“Only because you do not see what is more than ten steps ahead of you until you arrive,” you admonish. Havi is wise in his own right, though at times, his temper tried to outweigh wisdom and reason. “You have your doubts,” you tell him with a soft smile, no other knew Havi as you did —sometimes he wonders if you know him better than he knows himself, and oft times the answer is yes, “else you would not visit my dwellings.” He looks away, shaking his head with a soft smile, unable to deny his wife and queen knew him well. You raise your hand to his scarred cheek, bringing his gaze back to you. “Go, dear Havi,” you breathe, “yet know I will not soothe your wounded pride.”

He rises from the bench, and you follow —both ravens leaping back into the watercolor sky. “When has my queen ever done so?” Havi steps closer, his rough hands cradling your face. You tilt your chin up, accepting a kiss as payment for your counsel. 

THE GOD OF Thunder and your step-son comes to Fensalir asking you to tend his father. Havi has been distraught for days after visiting with the Nornir, and Thor believes his beloved step-mother and queen are the only balm for such distress. You go to him in the twilight hours, finding him sitting atop the world with a distant and troubled look. He pays no mind to your approach, save moving to the left on his great throne to make room for you to sit. “What ails your mind, dear Havi?” You ask, sitting at his side —fingertips following the scar on his cheek, brushing through his close-cropped golden beard now tinged with the first kiss of silver. 

Havi turns his head, looking upon you in despair, but there is something else in his solemn gaze too —defeat. He pulls your hand from his cheek, thumb stroking the back of your palm. “Have you foreseen what the Nornir have?” 

Thor had not dispelled the reason behind the storm brewing within his father, but upon his question, you know what is troubling him —for the doom of the Æsir has plagued your thoughts and waking dreams. Though perhaps a worse fate lay ahead should you beget what visions fate had bestowed upon you. Havi is not one to accept his foretold ruin without first attempting to thwart the threads of fate. Information could be a dangerous thing. The difference between poison and medicine often lay within the dose. Sighing softly, you slip your hand free of his gentle grasp. 

“I cannot reveal what I have seen, nor am I privy what others have foreseen.” You lay your hand on his scarred cheek, bringing his gaze to you. The spark in your eyes gives him hope and eases his mind. Sweet Frigg, he thinks, ever the cure for my madness, my rock in a tempestuous sea. Havi covers your hand with his and leans toward you. The rough hair of his beard tickling your cheek before his lips brush against yours. “Have faith,” you breathe upon parting, resting your forehead against his. “Ragnarök shall not be our end.” It is a promise. 

“EIVOR!” WALLACE CRIES, helping his sister bring an injured woman into the longhouse of Ravensthorpe on a stormy night. He rouses from sleep and hastily puts on his tunic, greeting the hunters while rubbing his heavy eyes as they adjust to the dying firelight from the cook-fire and braziers. Eivor does not expect to see a woman supported between the siblings —head lolled forward with blood dripping from her arm and side. It takes him a moment to spur into action, but he takes Petra’s place and leads the injured woman to his chambers, helping her to the straw-and-rag stuffed mattress. 

Kneeling, he brushes aside the hair clinging her to face and freezes, eyes wide. “Frigg.” He breathes the name without a second thought and feels his heart clench. This woman is but a stranger, and yet a part of him has always known her. He is sure of it. Eivor presses his hand against the gash at her side and looks over his shoulder to Petra. It will take more than a cautery iron to heal this affliction. “Find Valka,” he tells the huntress. She nods, bolting from the longhouse as Wallace brings a basin of water and torn pieces of an old tunic. 

Valka comes with her poultices and cordials, kneeling bedside. As soon as she looks between Eivor and the injured woman, the Seer knows. Eivor Wolfsmal may be attempting to escape one knot in the tangled threads of fate, but he cannot run from them all. A bloody hour passes, but when the Seer takes her leave, she tells Eivor the woman will live, for the gods have smiled upon her, just as they smiled upon him. 

GROANING, YOU BEGIN to wake with a pang of hunger and thirst —the dull throbbing in your ribs is only a distant pain. The bed beneath you is soft, the wool and pelt blankets warm. The scent of cloudberries and honey linger in the air, reminders of a home no longer standing and a place you frequent in dreams. A rough hand curls around your wrist, jarring you into alertness, suddenly aware of the unfamiliar surroundings and the man sitting bedside in a disheveled tunic with partially unbound golden hair, hardly awake in the morning hours. “Havi?” You whisper. His is a face you know well —from his kind blue gaze to the scar on his cheek and the curve in a once-broken nose. 

He stares at you. He knows you. Eivor knows the curve of your lips, the gleam in your eyes, even the whisper of your voice. Sweet Frigg, his mind murmurs again and a strange feeling of relief overcomes him —as though a lifetime search has finally come to a close. “Eivor,” he corrects, ripping himself from the dream. Petra told him how they found you in the forest, stumbling away from the largest wolf either hunter ever seen. “They say you fended off a wolf on your own.” Spoken like that, it sounds a heroic deed —you left the beast for dead near a ravine, but the wolf had almost done the same to you. “What were you doing out in such a storm?” He asks, raising a tired brow. 

“Searching–” you sit up with a groan, holding onto your linen-bound side “–for home.” One of his hands covers yours, the other pressing against your lower back. Beholding Eivor, though, you realize your search has ended —you do not know him, but the feeling in your gut and the lightness of your heart in his presence tells you this is home. Dear Havi. Dreams and fate have led you here for a purpose. 

Eyes darting over Eivor’s features, you smile, offering your name. He repeats it, lips kinked. Your name is just as sweet on his lips as Frigg’s, if not sweeter. A moment passes, the silence hanging in the early morning air broken by the low croak of a raven perched in the rafters above your resting bed. Eivor glances up at Sýnin —the raven can sense something too. “You can stay here,” he notes, softly and without hesitance. “Ravensthorpe can be your home.” 

The generous offer makes your heart clench and brings tears welling up in your eyes. He smiles, and now you are certain your searches have finally ended. You pull your hand away from your side and Eivor’s hand, lifting it to his scarred cheek as you’ve done hundreds of times in dreams. Unwittingly, he leans into the touch —he’s done this before, and he recognizes the gentle caress of your thumb as it runs over the jagged scar. Eivor sighs  —all of this and you are familiar. 

Driven by memory, he rises to his knees, seeking your lips with his own. The tickle of his beard on your jaw and cheek is a warning, but you do not shy away —you’ve known him for a hundred lifetimes, and this is only a reunion. Eivor’s lips move against yours, both his arms loosely sliding around your waist. You smile against his lips, fingers combing through his golden beard. There are no sparks, for there is already a deep flame kindled between you both —one that cannot be extinguished in this life or the next. The threads of fate come together, and two halves are made whole. 

[taglist:  @kvitravn @vanillabeanlattes @nemo-my-name-forevermore  @withered-poppies @ananriel @britishhotassassin @maximalblaze @khaoskrossed @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelaen @dynamicorbit @itseivwhore ] if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[morihaus]

Domina

cw for a vampire talking about mortals like cattle and mentions of molag bal (just his name)

---

Atop a balcony of the Imperial Palace, the young emperor casts her gaze westward, over the canopy of the great forest, off to the dark horizon laid over the Colovian highlands. Past the borders of Cyrodiil, there lays the outlying province of the Empire, Craglorn, home to the distant Nedes never chained. Cities of stone and high towers, traditions older than the Empire of Man, faith older than Saint Alessia herself; Hestra was born to these lands, to the Cyrodiils who came from Colovia to lend aid to their kin, to enlighten them, to fasten and secure their ties to the Empire, and to keep wary watch of the expanding dominion of Verkarth, whose king had spent a century splitting the land in two, harrowing the Nedic allies of the Empire, unopposed in the distant and foreign borderland.

It was this that brought her to power. She became warrior to the faith as many in her family had been before her, as was the Colovian style of the priesthood, and she worked to stymie the tide of this burgeoning power henceforth unknown- as well as the dark creatures who cavorted within its borders, fanning out to the neighboring realms to terrorize the populace. Vampires, werebeasts, monsters of all sorts became the scourge of Craglorn in those days, and the Empire of Cyrodiil did nothing, for what was their concern for the fate of provincials? Nedes who knew nothing of Paravant, or Pelinal, or the One, whose degenerate practices ostracized them from polite Imperial society.

Hestra was one of many in Craglorn and Cyrodiil who saw need for action, but alas, small militias could do nothing but root out loose ends, small cells of the fiends who dogged the western reaches. A coven here, a pack there, but this was to treat the symptoms rather than the sickness, and without organized action against Styriche and his Gray Host itself, nothing would be done.

And for all the dire circumstances, this is why she stands here, amulet of dragon-fire around her neck, looking west with purpose. She has been emperor for but two years, and the Empire is more united than it has been in some time. She is what Cyrodiil needs, a decisive emperor, to cut through the internal bickering of the Order; a conquering emperor, to show no quarter to the enemies of mankind; a common emperor, who understands the plight of her subjects and refuses to rest until justice is done.

With the Empire whole, it prepares for a full-scale invasion of Verkarth, to sunder and destroy the foul abominations commanded by its king.

Something approaches silently from behind her. She is without guard, but not alone, for tonight she is entertaining a particular guest.

"Second thoughts, Emperor?" The pale woman clad in deep red silks asks her with a playful tone. Playful as a cat toys with a mouse, but decidedly playful nonetheless.

Hestra turns to face her, Exarch of the Gray Council, undying vampire, a mistress of the dark forces she plans to destroy. She faces her and sees her ever-so-smug grin, her round face, pale like the moon with dark shadows and painted colors framing her scarlet-orange eyes. She sees her jewelry reflect the light of the night sky, a shimmer along the chain of her belt as her eyes trace her waist, a shine around the swirling ringlets of her arm, up to the clasp of her dress on her shoulder, even a sparkle from the jewel earrings when her long black hair fell just so to make way for the light. "I consider my actions more often than you think. This is why I'm here, Vem."

Vem moves forward to press up against the other woman, lifting a manicured hand to trace her jawline. She is without reverence for the Emperor, but not without admiration, and often she shows her appreciation with touch. "This is why I see such potential in you, fair Hestra." The mortal woman doesn't flinch- but might shiver- at the vampire's chilling touch, and allows it to happen. This close she can see the subtle scaly texture speckling Vem's skin, around her eyes and her bare neck and arms, her eyes fix to this instead of Vem's hypnotic gaze- she wouldn't dare attempt to bewitch the warrior emperor, but she does much without noticing it. "We have more in common than you do with your councilors. They fill their heads with petty concerns, worthless mortal vanity- you and I, we focus on what's truly important: power."

Hestra, for as steely as her countenance is, lets her head droop to one side, warm cheek pressed against Vem's cold hand. She raises one of her own to Vem's waist, closing her eyes. "I have power, Vem. I'm the Emperor, blessed by Akatosh, anointed before the One." She doesn't need sight to picture the frown grow on Vem's face as she speaks.

She hears a sigh, and the cold hand moves down from cradling her head, sliding across her bare neck and stopping at her shoulder. Hestra opens her eyes again to see the predictable sight. She'd call the expression on Vem's face perplexed, as she is always baffled by her refusal. "Have I not explained to you the difference in magnitude hundreds of time?" She scoffs. "You are a Queen, a mortal Queen, you command great armies and rule over all of your citizenry. But I could make you more. As vampire, you would never age, never die, you would be indomitable."

"Indomitable," Hestra repeats. "But dominated by the foul machinations of your master."

Vem furrows her brow, twitching her nose. "Lord Bal is our master in name alone. He holds no true sway over us- we only need make one pact, but one ritual, and we may reap the rewards of his gift as we serve ourselves. You cannot tell me you would not desire such a power."

"Power at a price." Hestra lets her hand fall back, and now furrows her own brow as she looks back at Vem, somewhat yearning for the years she hadn't known of her true nature, or for a time where they could spend time ignoring the doom that surrounds them, before this decision had to be reached. "I do not want to join your Gray Host."

"You would not have to." Vem retracts her hand as well, folding her arms over her chest. "As immortal Emperor of Cyrodiil, you would be of much greater use as an ally to the Gray Host, to relinquish your power over this land would be foolish."

"Imagine I disagree with what your Host does, terrorizing innocent people, drinking of their blood and eating of their flesh."

Vem tisks, she almost seems to roll her luminous eyes at that. "This is because you are clinging to mortal notions of morality. You do not weep for the butchered cow, do you? For us, it is no different than hunting simple animals."

"And if I care for these animals?" Hestra asks.

She receives a raised brow. "Do you really care for these people, Emperor? These people who are not yours, who you do not know- how much would you sacrifice for their lives?" After a pointed silence, she adds: "If you could trade your life for theirs, right now, would you?"

Hestra answers honestly. "No."

"If," Vem begins. "The inverse were true, and you could sacrifice the lives of many to achieve greater power, greater dominion, wouldn't you?"

Hestra considers. "...I might." She gazes off to the side, looking behind Vem into the palace's quarters. "But what you speak of, this is the truth of politics, of warfare, of the life of an Emperor. These ugly decisions are mine to make, and I must."

"This is what holds you back," Vem turns and begins to pace, steps silent as she does. "You deny what you truly want: power. You claim it out of responsibility, you make these excuses for yourself..." She looks over her shoulder, Hestra meets her piercing eyes. "Why do you let yourself be ruled by such foolish thoughts?" She approaches again, so gently as though gliding through the air. A fanged smile plays on her lips. "You are Emperor. I am offering you power, it is in your very nature to accept it. Do not deny your true calling."

Hestra looks to her vacantly. She wonders how often she has been tempted, how close she's come before now. "You talk of offering me power- power of my own- and yet you speak as though to dominate me yourself."

At this, Vem laughs. It breaks the tension somewhat, and she takes Hestra's hand in her own, rubbing circles on the back with her cold thumb. She looks at her with half-lidded eyes. "You would not like to belong to me, dear Hestra?"

And at this, Hestra is pulled two ways, and such a grave conversation becomes very silly, and for the first time tonight, the Emperor smiles. "You speak in circles, love, like a turning wheel." She leans in and very easily presses her lips against Vem's; a shallow kiss, undercoated with some feeling of fleeting passion and intimacy, something that feels like a last chance, a final moment in which they can both pretend they share the same future. Vem puts her arms around Hestra's head, the mortal reciprocates with a hold on her waist. Hestra pulls back to breathe and laugh. "Sometimes, I still can't tell- do you want me a vampire, or a thrall-" Vem interrupts her by kissing her cheek, laughing along.

They embrace and they laugh for awhile, standing on the balcony, nipped at by the chilly night air. Eventually they stop laughing and just hold each other. Vem tucks her head into the crook of Hestra's neck, and Hestra lets her, and runs a hand through her silky dark hair.

"...You know," Vem softly breaks the silence. "That of course I want you to join me as I am- a vampire, the rightful rulers of the unliving. Because you are a ruler, Hestra, and this drew me to you, for I recognized how great you could be if you could only see what lies beyond your mortality..." One of her pale hands turns to run across the close-cut hair on Hestra's head, and Vem turns to look her in the eye, one side of her head still pressed against her shoulder. Her expression is warm, and not regal. "I do not doubt how far you will go as a mortal. You will be remembered for centuries, for a hundred centuries, your death will be something glorious, remembered in song, you will be indelible... but you will die. And it breaks my heart-" A laugh- or maybe a sob- spills out between words. "I know you could never understand, you are mortal, impermanence is everywhere in your life, to be everlasting is... difficult, to communicate. It's something you need to feel for yourself. I ask... that you allow me to grant you this, Hestra. Please."

She'd never seen Vem posture in such a way. They have been intimate with one another, they've spoken of sadness before, but never has she been so melancholy, so sorrowful as to look up to her with those eyes, dry but full of sadness. "...My love, you know I can't-"

"Why?" Vem asks immediately.

"Because- Because I am Emperor first, divine regent of the One, descendant of the Ascended Saint Alessia, defender of Cyrodiil and the Faith. I am dutybound to destroy the Gray Host... and I cannot accept your power, it would render me an abomination in the eyes of the Order, and all I've worked for would be for naught."

Vem pulls back, Hestra lets open her arms to give her space. She looks at Hestra, fear in her face, steeled by frustration. "They would not have to know. There are ways- many of us disguise our true nature, some get away with it for a century or more. You yourself had no idea before I revealed to you my nature."

"You're right. I didn't," Hestra admits. "But this is because I was young and stupid. The pelates of the Order are older, wiser, many of them savvy to the affronts to the divine. And in any case, I would still need to invade Verkarth."

"No, no you don't. We could- if you'd postpone, delay, we could destroy this Alessian Order-"

"Destroy the Order?" Hestra's brows fly up at this, almost more shocked than insulted.

Vem clenches her fists at her sides. "They are just mortals, Hestra. Mortals can be manipulated, they can be herded and culled by their true masters. If all of the threats to your power were turned, were on our side, would you still deny this?"

"You're speaking in fantasies." The Emperor says, colder than she meant to. She is just as frustrated, not only by Vem's assertions, but by how her mind meanders and considers them.

"Answer me, Hestra!"

"I could not- I could not disgrace my line, my ancestors-"

"Your ancestors were nothing more than cattle!" Vem shouts.

"Your family is nothing but a pack of monsters!" Hestra replies.

Vem, incensed, points a sharp finger at Hestra as she bares her fangs. "We are NOT monsters!" She growls, throwing a hand up. "'Monsters', 'daimons', 'abominations', these are all the labels feeble-minded sheep apply to us, the true masters of Tamriel! And here you are- so different from them, so close to us, and you refuse your rightful place on our Council, your rightful taste of our blood, all because of these vapid mortal commitments to the lives and deeds of mortals, the ways of people who lived and died as nothing more than stupid animals- you let them limit you, hold you back, drag you down to their level!" Snarling, there is a quivering to her frame and face that belies her nerves. "You do not deserve to be another pile of bones in a pasture! You deserve to be Domina, High Emperor of All Tamriel, Immortal Ruler of the weak and impermanent!!"

Hestra stands stock still, shadows cast on her creased face. "I cannot do this. I will not take knee before your king."

"You would not have to! Do you know how few of us respect King Styriche? How fewer revere Lord Bal? To depose him, to usurp him, it would not be difficult, you would only have to delay your invasion!" Vem's composure is all but faded as she pleads for what she wants, the safety of her family, an immortal paramour, and all that she wills be made real, as in true domination of the world. The fact that she screams this hoarsely and with such desperation- the desperation of someone not in control- is not lost on her.

The Emperor hangs her head, heavy with troubles. She grits her teeth as she speaks with attempted finality. "I cannot, Vem, and I'm sorry that I cannot." Her own eyes, still living, well up as she speaks. "It does not mean I don't love you- I do, I give you my word and I mean it: I do, and if I were anyone different... you need to know how much I want to be forever beside you, I truly want this, but..."

Vem suddenly darts forward, pressing herself against her, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "If you want it, you can have it. Let me turn you, forget the Empire, let it fall under someone else's rule- we could make of it that you died in battle, that you were- you were betrayed somehow, sow dissent in the Empire, let it rot and fall. Leave my family alone, let us go together into a new life." Her plan is flimsy, her voice is quickened and shaking, but she bears her soul to Hestra like never before. "Take what you want, Hestra."

She bows her head. Hestra leans down to press her forehead against hers. She wants to take her into her arms, as they used to, like lovers would, but she doesn't.