#throne of glass playlist

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

So I love my music and all my playlists that help me work, read, write, but I need a new selection—it’s getting so stale tbh I’m itching for my next hyper fixation song that I reply 6 times in a row. I try Spotify’s suggestions and it’s quite literally the same thing over and over or something I’ve heard of. Please send me your playlists, songs, etc!!

My music taste is v v V diverse so I’ll listen to just about anything!! I also just love to see what everyone else listens to, it’s so fun imo. thx in advance 🥹

[throneofsapphics]

get up off the roof

Fenrys x f!Reader 

Summary: “There’s one person who could probably get through to her.” Rowan spoke carefully as if he was treading on dangerous water with his mate.

“They haven’t spoken in weeks.” She snapped. You felt bile rise in your throat, and decided eavesdropping was a very bad idea, so you fled silently back down the hall. 

Word Count: ~2k 

Warnings: grief, death of a parent, angst-ish, comfort if you squint

A/N: I should be working on my kinktober list, but this is what came out instead. 

Your breaths were heavy as you stood on the roof, your bare toes curling over the edge. The shingles were rough under your feet, and it took much of your focus to keep yourself balanced on the slope. Your heels dug in, and you let yourself lean back just enough to keep you from falling off the edge. It was a scorching summer day, and the rough material burned the soles of your feet, the sun heating through your clothes and leaving an uncomfortable warmth on your skin. 

It was only two stories up, if it didn’t work you’d still survive - maybe a bit bruised and with a few broken bones, but you were frustrated enough to get desperate. Ever since … that … your magic had been stifled, and you could barely reach it. Losing both of your parents a week of each other, the ones who taught you to love your magic and heritage in secret. Who provided you with unconditional support and love. Your magic felt intertwined with their memory, and every time you tried to reach for it, it shrunk further back as if the grief was too strong. It had been nearly a month, and it was slowly driving you insane. 

If anything, a situation that appears to be life threatening might bring it out of you. 

You thought you heard someone calling your name, far off in the distance, but shoved it away. Chances are nobody was there, you were always careful with the times you let yourself suffer, let your emotions reign free. 

Then, you were falling through the air as your heels pushed off the roof. Your body curled on instinct, and you hit the gods-damned bush. It hadn’t worked. 

“Are you insane?” You heard Aelin’s yell from the doorway, as she sprinted out towards the courtyard. Someone had been there. You cursed audibly, not at the pain but at the explanation you’d have to give now, and the pity that would follow. Pity made you feel as if you were shriveling inside, your entire body recoiling.

She gripped under your elbow, tugging you up to stand. Her eyes quickly traced your body, noting the small scratch on your elbow with a frown. Besides that, you were completely fine. Physically. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Despite the expletive, her voice was a bit softer. 

“I was ..” pressure built around your throat, choking you and stopping any more words from coming out. You couldn’t figure out how to explain it, even if you wanted to. Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Let’s get you inside.”

She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding tightly like you might disappear at any moment. Could you keep her from telling anyone else? Especially a specific someone who would lose their damn mind, despite them having no claim to you, and no desire to. Aelin would probably feel obligated as both your friend and theirs. You leaned your head against her shoulder with a sigh. If she wanted to, there was nothing you could do about it. 

A crow cawed in the distance and you felt a shudder run down your spine.  

She bundled you inside, and right off to her rooms where she started making tea. At least she kept it in her rooms and didn’t force you down to the kitchens. You probably looked an absolute mess, you could feel the leaves tangled in your hair and knew the bags under your eyes were likely a deep purple by now. 

You scented him moments before he entered, and let out a low curse. Aelin turned to you in alarm, and quickly walked towards the door but he’d flung it open before you could react. 

He stood in the doorway for a few moments, and you slowly turned to face him, despite your best efforts. 

“Take a tumble?” He raised his brows. 

“Get out.” Aelin snapped, shoving his chest back. He slowly backed out of the door, and you saw his eyes widen as the Queen slammed the door in his face. 

“Y/n,” Aelin’s voice was quiet, and drew your attention away from the heavy oak door. She was in front of you, shoving a warm cup into her hands. She crouched in front of you, silently healing the scrape on your elbow. Aelin sighed as she looked at you, and you had the sudden urge to throw the hot liquid in her face. But, that would be a very ungrateful thing to do. And assaulting the Queen of your country, even if she was a friend, was a bad idea. The doorknob rattled, and you heard a pounding on the door. Pine and snow, you registered that. Aelin rolled her eyes and shot you an apologetic look. 

She cracked it open just enough to speak to Rowan in hushed tones, low enough even your Fae hearing couldn’t pick up on it. 

Instead, you studied the mug in your hands, remembering a grounding technique. Warm from the liquid inside, the base was white, a lord of the north painted on one side. A small chip on the handle. You ran your thumb over it, it was a small dip in the porcelain, insignificant enough you never would’ve noticed it if you hadn’t been looking. But, you’d learned over the years that if you studied anything too long you would notice every little thing that was wrong. People and objects alike.  

“What were you trying to do?” Aelin drew you out of your reverie. 

The words, you could get just enough words out to tell her. Out of anyone, she might understand. “Get my magic back.” 

“There’s better ways to -”

You cut her off, “other ways haven’t worked.” You said harshly. 

Aelin let out a slow breath and studied you. As always, you felt like she tore through every damn layer of you - seeing right to the core. You were too alike in some ways, and could always call each other out on bullshit. “Try and let it come back on it’s own.” 

You’d tried. You’d fucking tried but it was miserable to not be able to access that part of yourself, the part that had disappeared for ten damned years and you didn’t want to spend a day longer without it. 

“Do you think talking about them would help?” She settled down next to you on the couch, legs crossed under her and turned to face you. 

You chewed on your bottom lip. You’d avoided thinking or talking about them as much as possible, figuring that would shove the pain and grief away and eventually it would disappear on its own. “Not yet.” 

You felt her disappointment, and ignored that too. 

-

“I don’t know how to help her.” Your best friend's soft voice floated through the open door. 

This was a conversation you weren’t meant to overhear, you knew that for certain. Besides, you didn’t need help, you just needed time. 

“There’s one person who could probably get through to her.” Rowan spoke carefully as if he was treading on dangerous water with his mate.

“They haven’t spoken in weeks.” She snapped. You felt bile rise in your throat, and decided eavesdropping was a very bad idea, so you fled silently back down the hall. 

-

Maybe it was punishment, or her form of protecting you but Aelin dragging you to state meetings made your head want to explode. If she could, she’d probably try to stay in your room with you. Either her or Rowan had been trailing after you constantly. Like two overbearing and fussy shadows. 

“I’m not a risk to myself.” You finally snapped one night. 

“Really?” Aelin matched your pitch and tone. “Because I watched my best friend jump off the gods-damned roof.” 

“You killed the gods.” 

“And if you died I’d bring you back to kill you myself.” She was almost yelling at this point. 

“Awe, you do love me.” You teased her, de-escalating and dodging the earlier topic. 

Aelin shot a long suffering look towards Rowan, who only looked on amusedly. 

“You could talk to him.” The bastard said. Aelin shot him a nasty look this time as you froze in place. 

“Rowan,” she growled at him, before looking back to you apologetically. 

“Or he could talk to me.” You said stiffly. 

“Because that’s worked so well, hasn’t it?” 

You forgot how much of an asshole he can be, and told him so. He only said to come up with more creative names for him before you stormed out of the room. It was a small mercy that they let you have your tantrum in peace, staying back in their rooms. If they had followed you this time you probably would have thrown something at them. 

You were stewing in your anger and barely paying attention to where you were going as your subconscious guided you on muscle-memory. Right to your roof. You didn’t stand at the edge this time, in fact you sat several feet behind, on a flatter area and far back enough any busy bodies would assume you’re just relaxing. You carefully lowered yourself down on your back to stare up at the stars. A crow landed next to you, peering at you with uncanny eyes. 

“Hello,” you muttered. They seemed to follow you everywhere and you couldn’t decide if it was an omen or not. To your surprise, the animal cawed in response. “I’m going to assume that's a friendly greeting.” 

The bird ruffled its feathers, still staring at you. “If I didn’t know better,” you continued, “I’d assume you’re a Fae or Shifter. 

You heard a snort coming from a few feet away and the animal took off with a screech. There’s only one person who can sneak up on you like that. 

“If I said to fuck off would you actually leave?” You didn’t bother looking at him. 

“Probably not.” The air shifted around you, and when you turned your head he was laying next to you, only a foot or so away. If you reached your arm out you could touch him. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Do I need a reason to come see you?” He let out an edged chuckle, and you turned your head back to the night sky, searching for the lord of the north. 

“If I say yes will you be offended?” 

“So many questions.” He tutted. That is a yes, then. “They’re worried.” Your chest tightened and blood heated. Anger rolled from you in waves. They had no right to go spreading your business, telling whoever the hell they wanted …

“I can see it on their faces, the way they’re acting.” He continued, probably sensing the emotions rising in you like a dangerous wave, battering at the dams of your already fragile self control. “I haven’t asked any questions.” 

In your grief, he pulled further away from you. At a time when you needed him the most, he disappeared. You couldn’t figure out why the hell he decided to show up now, now that you were inches away from rock bottom. 

“Where have you been?” You tried not to sound accusatory but failed miserably. 

For once, he didn’t have a snarky response or reply to it. Instead, he reached for you. You didn’t move, but didn’t fight him as he tugged your hand into his. Your friend, the friend that had started to turn into more, just weeks before everything happened. 

“I’m sorry.” His thumb ran across your knuckles, and his hand tightened around yours, interlacing your fingers. 

“Y/n,” you heard a shout from your balcony. “Get off the roof!” Aelin was screaming, nearly at the top of her lungs. You should’ve known eventually. 

“You can join us or you can leave.” Fenrys yelled back at her, saving you from having to do it. 

A quiet, “oh,” came from below you, and you heard your balcony door shut. 

“My savior,” you teased, the words coming out naturally. 

“Glad to be of service.” His grin shone through his words, and when you turned the moon cast the perfect light over his face, highlighting all of his features. Onyx eyes captured your own, and his hair seemed to glow in the light. Like a bright light calling you in. You squeezed his hand once. 

“My knight in shining armor.” 

[livingasaghost]

spotify playlists for every mood ✨💿🦋

featuring mixes for books, vibes, seasons, and everything in between

highlights include:

brat girl summer / feeling feral / god tier / stop feeling! / throne of glass / rwrb // firstprince / jade city / the locked tomb [griddlehark] / what's my age again? / friendship can be romantic / though your heart is grieving / dark academia / sad girl machine / night drives / morgan matson summer / bergman brothers / a haunting / frost / taylor breakup playlist / it's charli babyyy / what the folk / dad rock

[pergaminaa]

Here is the Manorian playlist I finally finished lol. The possibilities are endless but certain songs just give me very strong Manorian vibes I couldn't ignore them.

These are mostly nsfw but since when are these two sfw? anyway, here is the playlist~

[starswhogaze]

Manon Blackbeak

🤍

I'm on my 7th or 8th reread of Heir of Fire, so the urge to illustrate the gorgeous Manon was strong. Then I decided I'll do simple portraits like this for every character as I read.

🤍

This was a breakthrough for me. I love the characters of ToG so much that whenever I drew them, I hated it 😅. But, I took my time and didn't let my perfectionist-anxiety get to me. Really happy about how Manon turned out. I hope you like her as well.

🤍

Playlist 🎶

[spotifybutfaeries]

tower of dawn is a masterpiece and its protagonist is one more piece of evidence in the case against me for loving men who hate themselves!

[manonslayme]

I have (hopefully) created a masterpiece

[writtenonreceipts]

Aelin Week Day Five: Song Association @rowaelinscourt

I've been sitting on this playlist for a while and thought I'd share it now! This is mostly compiled of songs that struck me for the first book or two, with some mix ins for later books. But there are definitely songs that I found coded for Aelin. I tried to keep things less modern and more of a ... fantasy vibe.

Anyways, I liked coming up with songs and taking some time to think about my thoughts and feelings for the books and Aelin especially. I may add more along the way, but for now, I hope you enjoy this playlist!

[starfall-spirit]

SJM Romance Week Playlist

We Danced/Lysaedion Meet Cute

There You'll Be/Rowaelin Love Languages

Halo/Feysand Honeymoon

No One Can Fix Me/Malide Favorite Trope (Let Me Clean Your Wound)

Keeper of the Stars/Gwynriel Feelings Realized

Perfect/Feysand Anniversary

Best Friend/Quinlar Free Day (Marriage Pact)

Back to SJMRW Fic Masterlist

@sjmromanceweek

[witchersoldier]

just made this for the loml <3

[velarisnightsky444]

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

❤️‍🔥smut 🩵fluff 🖤angst 🩶series 🤍this song reminds me of them 🤎playlist

poly/ship acotar masterlist

kink/fluff/angstober 2024 masterlist

🩶Stargirl (ao3 || wattpad) ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet ❤️‍🔥So Close ❤️‍🔥Mating Frenzy ❤️‍🔥Accepting the Bond 🖤Spoiled Little Princess 🩵The First Taste

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

❤️‍🔥The Mess You Caused ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

🩶Dark Paradise (ao3 || wattpad) ❤️‍🔥Look at Yourself ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet 🖤Afterglow 🩵Clipped Wings 🤎Nesta’s Playlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

❤️‍🔥The Headboard ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet 🖤The 1 🩵Safe 🤍Come Back

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

❤️‍🔥Good Girl ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet 🤍Youre Losing Me

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

🩶Scorched Shadows ❤️‍🔥Little Fawn ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet(upcoming)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

❤️‍🔥Pretty Little Thing ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet(upcoming)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

❤️‍🔥Greedy Little Fox ❤️‍🔥Love ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet(upcoming)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

🩶How to Disappear(wattpad || ao3) ❤️‍🔥Stay Still ❤️‍🔥The Birchin ❤️‍🔥NSFW Alphabet(upcoming) 🩵Welcome 🤍Vampire

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

headcanons -what music the archeron sisters would listen to

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

OC things -my acotar ocs as taylor swift songs -my acotar ocs as melanie martinez song

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

all my playlists based on fiction

🤎brokeback mountain 🤎dead poets society 🤎elizabeth and darcy 🤎euphoria vibes 🤎evelyn hugo 🤎everlark 🤎feysand 🤎gilmore girls 🤎jennifers body vibes 🤎jurdan 🤎little women 🤎nesta archeron 🤎pretty little liars 🤎thirteen vibes 🤎throne of glass 🤎twilight 🤎virgin suicides vibes 🤎warnette 🤎xoxo -gossip girl

[mysticstarlightduck]

Late Writeblr Intro!

Hello, friends!

I figured it was about time I made an actual blog intro of my own since I forgot to make one when I started this blog last year. Better late than never, lmao!

Pls, reblog, like, and/or reply to help boost the blog! 💕

Let's get started:

Personal Stuff! 💜🩶🖤

My name is Anna/Anya but you can call me Mystic, Ducky, or just Anya on this blog! My personal nickname is Ani and I adore it (:

I am an Asexual woman (my pronouns are she/her!) and I'm also personally an atheist who puts my faith in the spirits of Mother Nature, though I respect all other religions equally!

I'm Gen Z and Latina (Brazilian). I was raised bilingual (Brazilian Portuguese + English) and I love learning languages - currently, I'm working on learning French and Spanish! Career-wise I am studying in college to become a character designer and hopefully animator, as I want to pursue a career as an artist and writer! I also wish to have my WIPs published in the near future (:

Some fun facts about me!

My favorite shows are Critical Role, Game of Thrones, Castlevania, The Legend of Vox Machina (animated series), Star Wars, Voltron, The Dragon Prince, Avatar the Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, and DC Comics content, as well as many more lmao. I love watching movies and series!

My favorite Vox Machina characters are Vax'ildan and Percy (:

I am a younger sister 💖

My hair is short and curly (pixie style, similar to the haircut Rapunzel has at the end of the Tangled movie!)

I adore listening to music, especially songs that can inspire me to write my WIPs! Playlists are a huge part of my writing process and something I really enjoy making.

I'm currently rereading Shadow and Bone (+ Six of Crows) and I am always looking for more good dark fantasy/historical fantasy books to read so book recs are always welcome! I also am a huge fan of the Percy Jackson series and Trials of Apollo (by Rick Riordan), though I'm usually more of a gritty/dark fantasy fan (like Game of Thrones)!

I have three dogs and two cats!😺🐶

I know how to play the piano, though I haven't done that in a while because things have been chaotic for me, but I'd like to start playing regularly again in my winter vacation.

I have worn glasses since I was 5 years old and have terrible eyesight without them (and some days with them, lol, so bear with me).

My friends and I are doing a DnD campaign every Sunday, where I play as a half-elf rogue named Aeryn (he/him). I'm adoring this adventure so far, it's so fun!!!

I love to bake and am rather good at it, but am a painfully average cook lmao (some specific recipes I make are actually rlly good, but it depends a lot on my mood and the 'alignment of the stars' lol)

I want to learn how to knit/crochet! 🧶

I'm a theater nerd and love musicals (:

About my Writing!🏹⌛

I write fictional works mostly in the genre of fantasy (high fantasy/epic fantasy/dark fantasy/historical fantasy/urban fantasy, etc. You name it!) and science fiction (space opera/cyberpunk/superhero, etc).

My works usually revolve around themes such as epic quests, secrets, adventure, rebels fighting an oppressive system, sibling bonds, acceptance/respect, outcasts, and much, much more! I love fluff and whump equally, and though my stories tend to focus on serious topics (or at least darker/heavier themes) within a fantasy/sci-fi setting, I like to have a good bit of humor, lighthearted fun, and comedy to my stories to lighten up the mood!

My main WIPs:

Song of Thorns

🌹WIP Intro: (here)🌹

Genre: dark fantasy, medieval fantasy, adventure/mystery, dark fairytale, eldritch horror (mild)

Style: Standalone (possible Trilogy)

Tags: #wip song of thorns #song of thorns

Short Summary/About: "A peasant girl moves with her siblings from her struggling seaside village to the kingdom's glittering floating capital, but after her older brother is kidnapped, she ends up discovering the dark, bloody secrets hiding behind the long-lasting royal family of the town and must team up with a young dhampir thief, the exiled prince, and a lonely druid girl to save the dying kingdom from this web of lies".

Supernova Initiative

🎇WIP Intro: (here) 🎇

Genre: space opera, adventure, exploration, laboratory whump, heist, thriller/mystery

Style: Episodic book series with an overarching plot (each chapter/group of chapters equivalent to an episode in a TV series)

Tags: #wip supernova initiative #supernova initiative

Short Summary/About: "A young intergalactic thief and his crew are captured after a heist gone wrong and forced to accept a strange deal - complete a mission for the Junction, retrieve important missing files, and get their freedom back. All the while that is happening, Jack Tithus, the protagonist, finds himself trapped as a test subject to an immoral, and elusive, man known as the Director."

Enchanted Illusions

💀 WIP Intro: (here)💀

Genre: Victorian fantasy, adventure, mystery, gothic fantasy, dark fantasy, crime-solving

Style: Possibly a trilogy

Tags: #wip enchanted illusions, #enchanted illusions

Short Summary/About: "On a magical setting inspired by Victorian times, a group of strangers and outcasts must work together to thwart a powerful secret organization and stop a murder spree that could lead to another civil war between myths and humans."

Of Starlight and Beasts

✨⚔️WIP Intro: (here)⚔️✨

Genre: medieval fantasy, epic fantasy, adventure/quest, dark fairytale, sword and sorcery, prophecies

Style: Book Series

Tags: #wip of starlight and beasts, #enchanted illusions

Short Summary/About: "A young knight in training and an amnesiac star mage embark on a quest to prevent an ancient prophecy from coming to fruition as a vengeful sorceress queen's army marches relentlessly onto their land with the intent to destroy all their kingdom has built."

The Last Wrath

🔥⚔️WIP Intro: to be made...⚔️🔥

Genre: dark fantasy, warfare, political intrigue, espionage, adventure/quest, medieval fantasy, whump

Style: Book Series (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip the last wrath, #the last wrath

Short Summary/About: "In a land torn by an ancient war between two sides of a continent, a mageborn girl finds herself trapped amid the bloodshed after her past comes back to haunt her and her family. Now, stopping the war may be the only chance she still has to survive."

Tales of Wilted Flowers

🥀WIP Intro: to be made...🪻

Genre: RPG-inspired fantasy, high fantasy, adventure, fairytale, epic quest, heist story, whump, light fantasy

Style: Trilogy (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip tales of wilted flowers #tales of wilted flowers

Short Summary/About - "A group of youths rejected and betrayed by society in many different ways come together due to unexpected circumstances and must rely on each other to prevent the kingdom's corrupt Head Sorcerer and the King from reviving an ancient evil."

Realms of Loss

🍂WIP Intro: (here)🍂

Genre: dark fantasy, warfare, medieval fantasy, high fantasy, ancient times fantasy, Viking-inspired, prophecies & curses

Style: Book Series (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip realms of loss #realms of loss

Short Summary/About - "In a continent destroyed by the fall of the Old Gods, and trapped in an endless toil for survival, a cocky young prince discovers his role in an ancient prophecy after his brother, the King, is murdered and assassins come for him too. Running away into the forsaken land beyond the walls of his kingdom, he'll have to learn to be a leader and save his people as a dead, murderous God awakens."

Mutant Inquiries/Open Secret Files

🤖 WIP Intro: to be made..🤖

Genre: superhero, cyberpunk, futuristic, dystopian, science fiction, urban fantasy

Style: Episodic Series, still in development

Tags: #wip mutant inquiries #wip open secret files #mutant inquiries #open secret files

Short Summary/About: "In a dystopian, high-tech future, a group of mutant teenagers become vigilantes and crime fighters to rebel against the oppressive government regime and survive their crime-ridden city."

I have a few other smaller-scale WIPs I occasionally, less frequently work on, such as Lies Untold and Jade Ruins, but those up above are the main ones that I wish to publish. I've also got a big, secret extra WIP I'm working on for fun and will share it with you guys soon!

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 9.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 4.0k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

so sorry for the long wait. ):

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, decapitation, death

story playlist

The sound of paper furling and unfurling were the only ones heard. Then the slam of a fist on a wooden desk. Then a sigh. 

“This is ridiculous,” Rhaenyra hissed, reading over the missive stamped with the Velaryon sigil for the near hundredth time. “Absolutely ridiculous— borderline treasonous.” 

The letter spelled out, in so many words, that Vaemond Velaryon was contesting Lucerys’ inheritance claim to Driftmark. Lord Corlys had apparently fallen ill in the Stepstones— damn that accursed place— which brought up the question of succession. There had been whispers over the years of Rhaenyra’s first three sons’ true parentage belied in the seed of a certain late Commander of the City’s watch. Such accusations have been unfounded and swatted away like flies if the argument was ever brought up in the small council chamber or throne room. 

Upon looking at them, the three Velaryon boys were only such in name– that much was obvious. Their brown eyes and curled brown hair struck a decided resemblance to someone that was not Ser Laenor Velaryon. 

Even if the rumors, as they may be, were plain as day truths, such things couldn’t be acted upon, much less said about the heir to the iron throne, could they? 

“How can Alicent even entertain this… this mummer’s farce?” she continued to seethe, resorting to pacing now, twisting the rings on her fingers. Her throat felt a bit dry at the situation. Her and Alicent had struck a comfortable balance since returning. This felt… it felt akin to a slap in the face.

“‘Tis not just Alicent entertaining it,” Daemon muttered, swirling wine in his cup. He was lazed in the chaise, one leg over the other. He seemed particularly laissez-faire about the situation at hand, as if it were nothing more than a mere annoyance to him, like a leg cramp or an annoying bug. “That snake of a father she has has his fangs in every pot. Whatever suits him— and this would seem to be one of those things.” he glanced to his wife, wanting to say more about the queen, but thought better of it. Daemon Targaryen was, in all accounts, a man who spoke his mind– but he didn’t wish to ruffle his pregnant wife’s feathers by calling her ‘girlhood friend’ a cunt like her father. 

“Otto Hightower is a conniving man, that much is true. What could he hope to gain by currying favor with Vaemond?” 

“The Velaryon fleet. The Velaryon coin. The Velaryon connections. The well of opportunities for conniving cunts like Otto are endless.” he punctuated each point with a wave of his glass.

Rhaenyra’s mouth snapped shut. She was silent for a long while before finally speaking again. “Well, Lord Corlys is not dead yet. This will be fought and we will be heard.”

—

The morning after the gala was… eventful, to say the least. She hardly remembered going back to her room, it all felt like a hazy, dizzy dream. 

Aemond had escorted her back to her chambers in (comfortable) silence, giving her another goodnight kiss before leaving her for the night. She had been reeling from it all, the adrenaline of their interaction.

She could feel his lips on hers and a delightful buzz on her face and… another unfamiliar sensation deep in her body, nestled behind her navel. It felt like a pulling sensation, like a thread connecting her and Aemond. Just the slightest tug on the string had her feeling warm and fuzzy— she wanted him. The implication of wanting him could mean a myriad of things. She was fond of him, of course, she always had been. His possessive declaration, to any normal person, could be deduced into one thing. But in Shera’s mind, there were many interpretations of such an action, it couldn’t be assumed to mean one thing! 

He said she belonged to him— that didn’t necessarily mean he… loved her, he just wanted her near him. The kiss… she had started it, of course! It was merely… something of comfort between them, like a soft blanket or a favorite smell, right? Nothing so deep as… as one might assume.

 But it was also… melding into one another with ease, like their lips coming together had been second nature, their feelings inevitable. 

She kicked her legs in bed, spooking Moongeist slightly. Burying her face in her pillow, she gave an uncharacteristically loud squeal— to personify her current feelings. This was girlish and so very silly! Her face was red, she knew, feeling the heat radiating off of it.

No, no— ‘twas not love. It… Aemond didn’t love her, he couldn’t, it was a passing fancy. Yes, he was possessive and had mentioned marrying her twice. But that didn’t… mean… 

She glanced over at the dozens of drawings and sketches they’d done over the past few weeks on her side table. Her eye immediately caught on the portrait she did of him in blue and purple pastels, fingers wrought over the etching as she thought back to when she presented it to him. 

“I do not look like this, Shera,” he scoffed as he rolled his eye at her depiction of him. “You made me look like a child getting their portrait done for the first time. I look like I am being held at swordpoint.” 

Her mouth opened, brows flying to her hairline. “What do you mean? This is what you look like to me,” she snatched the paper from his hand and put it up next to his face to compare. “And you wouldn’t sit still, you basically were a child. I thought you had more discipline than that– Ser Criston would be disappointed.” she tutted.

Of course, it was a stylized portrait– mayhaps overly stylized. It was lines and angles and he did look quite pointy in it. But it felt like him, harsh around the edges but there was a glint in his eye that was soft, something few people could catch in Aemond Targaryen. He had been agitated when she made him stand still and it was surprising that she didn’t capture that overbearing emotion– rather, she caught the softness reserved only for her that hung in the back light of his eye.

“You are blind.” Aemond huffed, turning away.

“Yes, we have established that,” she pushed his shoulder playfully.

Love. Love? Love!

She screamed herself hoarse again into her pillow until Moongeist tugged it away from her. 

She loved him. She was in love with Aemond Targaryen and had been for a very, very long time. 

She was still giddy about it, getting out of bed with a spring in her step, as if she were some sort of sprightly hare. She peppered Moongeist’s face in kisses, to which he returned sleepy chuffs and whines, cooing soft noises to him in lieu of words— her throat hurt from her girlish squealing.

She had almost forgotten about the incident. The warging. She wasn’t even sure it had been real, if not for the bruises where Aemond held her so tightly to stop her from falling to the floor, she thought it would’ve been a dream. 

Shera knew of warging– every Stark did, every Northman did. It was a seemingly supernatural phenomenon told by stewardesses to children. It was a thing of wonder and utter horror. She remembers her own stewardess, the very fleeting memories she had before King’s Landing of Winterfell, keeping her afraid with the threat that if a skinchanger died while inhabiting another being, they would be trapped in said being’s skin forever. 

“Some skinchangers are more beast than man, Shera,” the older woman said, wagging a finger in the little girl’s face, who was no more than four at the time. “If you keep up your antics, don’t be surprised if you wake up as a beast, you little hellion.”

Shera promptly bit the offending wagging finger.

Unfurling the paper left with her breakfast, a hearty plate of hot eggs and bangers (which looked ravenously appetizing), she skimmed it. The message was clear in its intent: the move back to Dragonstone was delayed. Biting into the sausage, she threw Moongeist some eggs.

One more thing to be delighted about– she felt like everything between her and… those who resided in King’s Landing was on borrowed time. 

‘Twas a pity about the hearing for Lucerys’ inheritance. She didn’t care much for Lucerys– but she didn’t really know him. She wonders if he even remembers taking Aemond’s eye, and Shera subsequently shoving him into a wall where he hit his head.

She ponders it more over breakfast, even asking for a second helping of sausage before reporting to the throne hall. The maids that dressed her had brought a separate garment, one unfamiliar and most certainly not something she brought with her.

“Princess Rhaenyra wishes for you to wear this at the hearing,” one of them murmured. 

Shera eyed the dress– it was deep, blood red with black and gold trim. There were embellishments of dragons and wolves across the chest and a sash belt that looked like it had wolf claws embedded into it. It was… nice in its own way, except for the ghastly color. The maids were relentless in the cinching of her waist and she shifted uneasily from foot to foot as she regretted her second helping of breakfast. The women didn’t say anything to her, really, but exchanged looks that said more than words. 

As she slips into the throne room, she feels a whoosh of air beside her. “You look garish in that color,” a familiar voice sneered. Aegon blocked her way, brows raised. “Some little birdie told me that you prefer blue.”

“... mayhaps I do,” she murmured. “And how exactly do you know that?” 

“Again, my little birdie. But also, I was at the gala and saw you and my brother eye-fucking each other. You two are seriously shameless, debaucherous almost.”

“That is truly rich coming from you, Aegon,” Shera cracked a small smile. 

Continuing her walk, Jacaerys sweeps her up into his arm and leads them over to… their side. Rhaenyra, Daemon, Lucerys and Rhaena are waiting. Across the opposite side of the room are Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent and Otto. In the center, stands Vaemond, swaying ever so slightly to the Queen’s side. The room is so clearly divided that it's almost sickening. Just the previous night, they had been making merry without all of this division. She sees Aemond, who gives her dress a onceover– his expression is reserved and she can’t tell what he is thinking. He looks at her for half a second, nostrils flared, before looking away from her. 

While the proceedings are happening, she swims within her own mind. She stands near Jace, who has his arm looped in hers in a protective manner. Scattered words of Vaemond come through her muddled thoughts, ‘Velaryon’, ‘Blood’, ‘Survival’, ‘House’. Her eyes were glazed over as she counted the cracks in the stones of the floor.

One, two, three… four… 

She doesn’t really pay attention to what’s going on until the heavy doors of the throne room open with almost silencing impunity, quiet chatter and shocked whispers pulling her from her reverie.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!” the Kingsguard announced as His Grace, who still looked all the part of a royal corpse, hobbled into the room. He declined any assistance to walk and take his seat.

She gets a sinking feeling in her gut– something telling her that everything is about to explode. 

“I must… admit… my confusion,” he wheezes, winded by the small walk. Shera feels a small twinge of sympathy at that, understanding the feeling. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

“You are of sound mind in that, father,” Rhaenyra bowed her head, unfurling another paper, walking to the King to present it. “This is a whit and declaration of betrothal between my son, Lucerys Velaryon, and Lord Corlys’ granddaughter, Rhaena Targaryen. It is signed and stamped by Lady Rhaenys, who upholds her husband’s declaration that Laenor’s son shall inherit Driftmark. This betrothal shall only strengthen his claim.” 

Viserys gave a small smile. “Thank you, my daughter,” he skimmed the paper, obviously with some struggle. “The matter… is settled, Ser Vaemond. It has been and it will… stay affirmed… that Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon is heir to Driftmark… the Driftwood Throne… and the next Lord of the Tides… and the children… of him and Lady Rhaena… will inherit it after him.” 

She feels the intensity in the air, it’s almost palpable. She feels sick as the voices raise, the blood in the room rises. 

Vaemond looks like he is about to burst, his body shaking in clear anger. “You break law… and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon,” he pauses for a moment as if to consider his next words, “No.I will not allow it.”

“‘Allow it’? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond,” Viserys struggled to sit up, returning Vaemond’s vitriol with his own– as labored and unthreatening as it was.

“That,” Vaemond pointed to Lucerys, with a look that could raze an army. “is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… are no more than the second son of Driftmark.” 

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this…” Vaemond looked back to Lucerys and Jacaerys. The rage in his eyes were palpable as a humid day, the anger emanating from him sticking in the room like cloying smoke.

“Say it.” Daemon whispered, eyes trained on the second son of Driftmark. The rogue prince was disarmingly calm, his voice like Caraxes’ hiss. 

“Her children… are bastards!” Vaemond boomed, stomping his foot and pointing again at Rhaenyra’s sons. 

Shera’s breath left her lungs. She remembered what happened the last time someone called them bastards. She glanced to Aemond, who was looking right back at her. 

“And she…” Ser Vaemond turned his damning finger to Rhaenyra, “is… a… whore.” 

The swing of a sword was all she heard. 

It is silent, save for the hushed and shocked breathing of everyone watching. One would think that people would scream, would gasp. But no, it was quiet as a mouse, quiet as Vaemond’s head was removed from his body and the gentle seep of blood staining the stone floor. 

Shera had never seen anyone die before– not like this. She can see into the passages of his skull, his eyes still open. Shocked, she looks at Daemon, who is wiping his blade against his doublet. Her eyes were glued to the ground, to the cracks she was counting before. They were soaked in his blood, the divots and fissures of the stone opening way for the blood to fall into, branching out into jagged rivers.

One, two, three… f-four…

This is what is he capable of, isn’t it? No one came to truly seize him, to arrest him for killing a man in broad daylight, in front of the King, in front of the Hand, in front of courtiers, in front of the Kingsguard. 

Alicent’s mouth was opened, her eyes wide. Even Otto was shocked, his fist clenched. It was as much emotion as Shera had ever seen the Hand express.

Her saliva feels cloying in her mouth as she glances across the room. Helaena has her ears covered and Shera wishes she had done the same. Aegon was staring off into space, pupils dilated. The scuffle of blades and minds beginning to come to a sense of what just really happened.

Aemond’s face finally held some emotion: enamorment. For the power that Daemon held, the prowess, the act of brutality itself– Shera couldn’t parse which. All she knew is that it scared her. That darkness lying just beneath the surface that she’d tried so hard to ignore–

Her extremities feel numb, the sharp sting of icy needles crawling up her arms and legs. She began to sway, unknowingly clasping onto Jacaerys. The room was spinning and shaking, the intense smell of copper— Vaemond’s blood— tainting her senses. 

A high pitched ringing overwhelmed her hearing as she slipped from consciousness into darkness. 

—

Alicent held Rhaenyra’s arm, hand over the length of the scar she gave her so many years ago. It seemed like a fever dream; that night. Her thumb traced the raised skin as the two women shared a moment in silence.

“I— I will return, Alicent,” the princess murmured, her hand over her belly. “I will take the children home and return for Shera. We… we have overstayed our welcome.” her throat bobbed as they spoke softly in the corner of the maester’s room. 

The queen’s eyes roved over Shera’s sleeping form. Her chest rose and fell softly and she seemed… troubled in her unconsciousness, soft whines emitting from her every so often. Her wolf stayed at the foot of the bed, standing at attention. Amber eyes vigilant, guarding. 

“How… how shall you transport her? She hasn’t woken up yet, Nyra,” Alicent asked, tilting her head. “The maesters say she is fragile.” 

“Syrax is a smooth flier— a makeshift cot is being constructed on her saddle as we speak. The flight wouldn’t be long and it would be much less taxing than a wheelhouse or horse.” 

Alicent nibbled on her lip anxiously. She had never been fond of dragons, despite most of those closest to her connected to one in some way. 

Targaryens and their queer customs. 

“Is… is that wise?” she pressed, brow knitting. “They do not even know if she will wake.” 

“I made an oath to her brother that I would keep her under my care, Alicent— we must go back to Dragonstone, our affairs cannot be put off any longer. I do not wish to birth my babe here, nor do I wish for Jacaerys to marry here.” 

But I wish for you to stay. I wish for you to leave that ingrate of a husband. She punctuated her unheard thought with a meaningful squeeze to Rhaenyra’s arm. A silent plea— it was the first time in years that something had felt right. 

But it wasn’t her place to say anything about it, the words were better left unsaid. “If you think that is wise, Rhaenyra,” the queen responded, her hand dropping from her skin as if it burned her. Mayhaps it did. “At least let our maesters monitor her for a few days— then you may take her.” 

Rhaenyra’s jaw clenched as she recused both hands to her belly as if to defend herself. “Very well, my queen.” 

They were so close, yet so far. 

—

It was hazy. Hazy and dreary— silent but all too loud. Her steps were calm and measured as her heart thumped in her chest. Shera felt light in her steps without any inhibition or reproach. Feeling no pain or vertigo, she flew down the staircase, skipping two or three at a time, giggling. This had to be a dream, didn’t it?

Descending, down… down… 

She was in the Red Keep, she knew. But it felt different, somehow. Younger in its stones, in the bones of its foundation, there was still some give. 

And yet, despite the airiness of the walls, there was a shadow looming

Two somewhat familiar figures were conversing near the skull of Balerion. She recognized them from portraits– young Rhaenyra and a much healthier, much more alive version of Viserys. 

She had always been fascinated by him, Balerion. Despite her heritage being very non-dragonesque, she always felt a childlike wonder whenever someone would speak of Balerion. It was hardly fathomable to her to imagine a dragon that would blot out the sun– one that even rivaled Vhagar’s gargantuan size. 

Viserys spoke softly but firmly to Rhaenyra, who was so young. She had just lost her mother and brother— the claim to the Iron Throne and named heir were up in the air. 

“Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. And whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living. When this Great Winter comes, Rhaenyra… all of Westeros must stand against it,” Viserys urged softly as the candlelight flickered against his features, fingers skimming atop the flames

“And if the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. A king,” he paused, looking at Rhaenyra once more, “or queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. Aegon called his dream ‘The Song of Ice and Fire.’ This secret… it’s been passed from king to heir since Aegon’s time. Now you must promise to carry it… and protect it. Promise me this, Rhaenyra,” the king looked directly to where Shera was standing, looking right into her eyes, as if he could see her, see into her. “Promise me.”

The metal of the Catspaw blade heated up atop the coals to a bright and almost fluorescent orange. Goosebumps prickled on Shera’s skin in tandem with the rising heat of the room. It was so warm, no, it was hot, scorching. The air vacated her lungs, replaced by flames licking at her insides, burning, consuming.

Young Rhaenyra had left the room, leaving Viserys to look at the skull of Balerion. He picked up a single candle, peering into the flame like it held the secrets of the world. 

He spoke again, but his voice wasn’t that of the era of King that Shera was looking upon. It was old, weezing– just like in the throne room from earlier in the day. The form of Viserys slumped, hair falling out and skin graying as he held the candle like a lifeline. He fell to his knees and the sound of his bones shattering could be heard, breaking and splintering into nothing but dust. 

But the candle was still lit. His hand, now nothing but bone and sinew, was fused to the wax. 

“No… more,” he coughed and sputtered, blood leaking from his lips onto the stone. Wax dripped, mingling with the blood. Finally, he focused on the flame of the candle. “My… love.” 

He blew out the candle with his last breath. With that, all of the candles in the room blew out.

Shera was left alone in the darkness and swirling smoke. 

It was cold.

–

She awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. But she was still cold, shivering. The smell of smoke was still lingering. 

Her chest was heaving as she sat up and tried to walk, wanting that same flighty weightlessness she felt before. Her body failed her and she crumbled to the floor, a broken doll once again. Arms wrapped around her and helped her up. The familiarity of sandalwood lulled her frantic nerves as she wholeheartedly buried her face into Aemond’s chest. She knew it was him. His arms laced behind her as he lifted her up easily as if not to taint her with having to stand on the ground. His nose buried into her hair, holding onto her as if he was afraid she would slip away.

There was the sound of a throat clearing near the corner of the room. The two of them were not alone– but she didn’t care. She clung to Aemond like her life depended on it, peering behind him slowly. 

Aegon was sitting behind them, knee bobbing nervously. He looked… disheveled, more than usual. Even more so, he was wearing… the crown of the conqueror. He was wearing the crown of his namesake. “You’ve missed a lot, Shera,” he muttered, eyes dark.

“Aegon?” she croaked, voice sounding hoarse and broken from disuse.

“‘Tis ‘your grace’ now.” Aegon said bitterly.

[starswhogaze]

Assassins Blade:

Throne of Glass:

Crown of Midnight:

Heir of Fire

Queen of Shadows:

Empire of Storms:

Kingdom of Ash

Enjoy 💜

[ellieslaces]

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.

part I ; part II ; part III ; part IV

featuring: prince!leon x princess!reader (royalty au)

synopsis: the Crown Prince, Leon, had never desired to marry, but obviously the decision was never up to him. his mind is slowly, and ultimately changed when he meets you, his betrothed

content warnings: harsh language; mentioned violence; strangers to lovers; mutual pining; little angst; misogynistic themes; eventual smut (more detail in later chapters)

notes: royalty au; Leon is an Italian Prince; user is British/English; some old English dialect; misogynistic themes bc this is based on old views of royal women’s only purpose to bare children; Leon’s family’s palace is based on Palazzo Ducale in Venice

word count: 2.83k

chloe talks: yeah ok, I caved. a royalty au has been on my mind for a little bit and while listening to Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift on the way to my endocrinologist appointment today, I had to write this. this is partially inspired by a bot on c.ai by wesker420 and another royalty au fic on here by @hispg so I don’t take full credit for the idea. but anyways, enjoy

playlist

Leon had never desired to marry, he never believed a happy marriage was in the cards for him. Especially when his mother and father were the only example set for him all his life. He was content with a life of politics — council and war meetings, endless nights spent in local taverns, his bed warmed by women who didn’t mean anything to him. Until he met you.

You were a princess from the North, a born and bred English noblewoman. And you were terribly single and of marrying age. Your country and Leon’s country were in dire need of allies, so naturally you were introduced to each other as betroths.

Of course, this was far from an easy process for either one of you. Leon did not wish to marry at all, and you wished to marry for love, not convenience. This was a damning future for the both of you.

And it only became increasingly worse as your marriage date was pushed closer — a fortnight away now. Your family traveled to Leon’s castle, staying there for the next two weeks. Your family was set to leave the night of the wedding, leaving you completely alone with a man you were forced to spend the rest of your life with and his family.

This arrangement was far from ideal for you. You knew next to nothing of the Crown Prince. And he knew nothing of you either. It was an unfortunate affair — two young nobles who could have anyone or anything now tied down to each other by pressing expectations. It was truly a tragedy.

It became increasingly apparent to Leon that you were miserable in this arrangement the day you arrived a fortnight before the wedding ceremony. He and his family greeted your family in the throne room — much more lavish and beautiful than your own at home — and he could so clearly see how dismayed you were.

Hell, he couldn’t blame you. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, brought up with the best opportunities available to her was now being sold off as a piece of property. All for peace among nations. Leon supposed he could complain, but he was a man. He wasn’t tied down by the duties of being a wife as you would be. He felt bad for you — even if some small part of him resented you for this sickening arrangement.

Soon enough, you were carted off to your chambers where you would reside until the night of the wedding ceremony. Your mother tried her best to console you, saying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was futile though, you were set to be miserable. To be resentful of how your parents could sell you off to the highest bidder for a bit of political gain.

Though, the palace grounds were beautiful. High ceilings covered in extravagant artwork, glass windows, the grand canal right outside the Eastern side of the palace. There was much to explore in the two weeks you’d spend there — or the rest of your life.

You spent the first week of your stay exploring the castle. Looking at the array of artwork, the different rooms. You did this mostly alone, your mother would occasionally join when she was not required to sit through perilously long political meetings. When she was not able to join you, your handmaiden — and best companion — Maria, would walk with you.

Always a few paces behind to keep up appropriate appearances. Though, Maira more than often would end up walking beside you.

In fact, it was three days after your initial arrival that Leon saw you for the first time, alone. You had decided to take advantage of the pleasant Italian spring day and explore the West gardens. Maria was walking beside you grinning, hands folded in front of her as she informed you of the latest gossip among the grand palace’s servants.

That was also the first time Leon had ever heard you laugh. You had a gloved hand covering your mouth, the sudden sound of your lilting laughter causing him to immediately stand as you rounded a corner of the hedges.

Leon has simply come outside to study a leather bound book of political speeches his father had written, sitting on the bench to also enjoy the weather. At the sudden sight of the prince, Maria stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and bent at the waist in a bow.

Maria’s sudden prostrate position caused you to pause as well, dropping your hand and looking up at the prince — your betrothed.

You as well, curtsied, face ground-ward as your smile fell in an instant. “Your highness.”

Leon almost smiled then, at the sight of your sudden respect and change of attitude. He bowed his own head as you straightened, offering the same sign of respect. “Princess. I hope you are enjoying the grounds.”

“Yes, your highness, I am. Thank you.” You nodded, your eyes hesitant to look in his direction. It didn’t go amiss to Leon that your cheeks had been painted in a pink tint as well.

“Good,” he nodded, at a loss for what else to say. His eyes darted to Maria, your handmaiden who had righted herself and taken a few steps back. He nodded to her as well, offering a kind smile.

This was the first time you’d felt any form of warmth for the prince. His subtle kindness to your handmaiden, whom any other noble would dutifully ignore. It brought a small smile to your lips, eyes finally meeting his as he looked at you.

“What are you reading?” You questioned, eyes flicking to the leather bound book in Leon’s hands. An awkward attempt to be polite.

“Just some political notes my father wrote up for me to review. He has been pushing me to be more involved as of late, my future quickly approaching as he likes to say.” Leon’s head tilted to the side, motioning to the book.

To his surprise, your interest had seemed to pique. “Anything interesting?” You asked, voice soft yet filled with an element of excitement. A princess interested in politics was not something the prince had ever come across.

“Not particularly, just some civilian requests and meeting reviews.” He shrugged, seeming bored. However, you seemed anything but.

“I see.” You stepped forward a bit, seeming to be a bit hesitant but foraging on nonetheless. “I do hope I am not being forward, but, I wonder if you would mind informing me of anything you hear in the meetings.”

Leon frowned at this. “You are not invited to meetings?” He didn’t realize you may not have a place in the political side of royalty.

You shook your head, a small look of annoyance gracing over your gentle features. “No, my father says it isn’t a princess’ place. He believes I am far too delicate for such heavy matters.”

Leon could tell how much it annoyed you, despite the fact that you never explicitly said it did. He frowned, nodding to himself.

He looked back up at you — his lips pulled into a devastating smirk that nearly took your breath away. “Well, princess, you have my word. I will inform you of anything I hear from future meetings.”

You hadn’t expected him to actually agree. Most men would have said you were being silly and had no need to hear such trivial matters. It made that prior spark of warmth blossom into a small flame in your chest.

He was kind. Not just handsome — horribly so, which you and Maria agreed upon — but he had a good heart. No matter his seemingly rough exterior, you could see the prince meant well.

“Well, thank you, your highness. I deeply appreciate it.” You smiled, that pink tint on your cheeks ever present as the prince stepped forward to you.

“Of course, princess. If there is anything I can do to make your stay any more pleasant, please do let me know. We are going to be married, are we not?” He offered with a half smirk, bowing his head again.

“Thank you, your highness.” Your own lips pulled into a small smile as Leon gently gripped your gloved hand, pressing his lips to the back of it with a whisper of a kiss. He smiled again, dropping your hand and walking away, through the hedges of the gardens.

He was kind, you’d somewhat expected that, but you hadn’t expected him to be so romantic. At least, that’s how you would put it. You’d met your fair share of suitors, each appealing in their own way. But none had ever offered you the kindness or grace Leon had. It was dizzying.

And those dizzying thoughts plagued you always. The kindness in his eyes, his devastating smirk, his gentle voice — it all stayed in your mind. Never leaving you a moment to breathe. Maybe, he wasn’t so bad. It was entirely possible that you wouldn’t be miserable here. However, you decided to make that decision upon whether or not Leon kept his promise.

And to your surprise, he had. Two days later, you awoke in the late morning to a small stack of parchment on your nightstand. The top sheet displaying your name in what could only be Leon’s swirling handwriting.

You’d laid in bed for two hours that morning to read through the notes of every meeting for the past week that you’d been there, missing breakfast. It wasn’t in Leon’s hand script, but in a neater script. The official royal note taker, you assumed. But it was all so interesting.

Never had you been informed of any such political activity before, unless it was pressing or dangerous. It was a refreshing feeling to be informed. To know things like anyone else.

You’d read over the papers, soaking in each word until your eyes hurt. Until you committed each event listed and discussed to memory. In sudden realization of how kind the act truly was, you racked your brain for a way to thank Leon. It was possible he could be punished for this, you didn’t know exactly how confidential this information was.

It wasn’t until dinner the following night after you’d received the papers that you saw the prince again. You had been seated beside him for the first time — probably due to visiting political figures. It was quiet between the two of you, a bit awkward, because what were you supposed to say? The men were all conversing about the situation in the West, Leon looking bored and not caring much to weigh in. So you took your chance.

“I wanted to thank you for the notes.” You spoke up, quiet as only Leon could hear you as you pushed the food on your plate around.

The prince paused, his glass raised to his lips as he sipped the maroon wine. “I trust you enjoyed them?”

“Very much. Thank you, it means a lot to me you did that.” You looked at Leon as he set his wine glass down, offering him a smile to display how much you truly did appreciate the kindness.

“Of course, princess. I am just glad to offer you some solace here. Whether it be politics or roses.” He joked, blue eyes glimmering in the bright candlelit dining hall.

You set down your fork, sipping from your own glass before looking at him again. “I do hope I did not get you into any trouble.”

“No. And even if you did, it would be worth it. So long as you are happy here.” Again, the prince’s kindness was overwhelming. You smiled, cheeks tinged pink again.

“You flush a lot. Is this normal for you, or is it just me?” The prince questioned with a teasing lilt.

A small laugh fell from your lips, shaking your head. “I am afraid it is just you.” You nodded to him, head tilted to the side.

The prince offered you another smile, sipping from his glass before his father began to speak to him, in a way forcing him to engage in conversation. For the first time in your life, you could listen to a discussion of political issues and know what was happening. And it was all thanks to a kind prince.

You sat through the dinner, a small smile taking permanent residence on your pink lips. Eyes sparkling with quiet knowledge.

It was then Leon realized he liked your smile. And it was then you realized you could fall in love with Leon.

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MANON!!!!!!! that's all i need to say. songs to kill ur tyrannical, racist grandmother to.