#will on the outside: come on bear king lets fight

[casualavocados]

Will had begun to turn and call out, to keep them quiet: "Now you must keep the bargain. Look after the wounded people and start repairing the buildings. Then let the boat tie up and refuel." He knew that it would take a minute to translate that and let the message spread out among the watching townsfolk, and he knew, too, that the delay would prevent their relief and anger from bursting out, [...]. The bear watched and saw what he was doing and why, and understood more fully than Will himself did what the boy had achieved.

— The Amber Spyglass; Chapter 8

[coefore]

I did it! This is an IDW AU born while watching The Green Knight (2021), specifically from one movie shot that I'd like to redraw. I was torn on whether or not to draw them all as robots or humans, so I started making designs for their human counterparts first - mostly because it is more fun to come up with clothes and accessories. I will eventually tackle a robot version. This is a long post, btw!

Indeed, this is a completely separate version from the Lion King AU I had come up with a couple of years ago, I just borrowed the crowns because I really liked those designs lol.

But let's set the stage under the cut. You can listen to the playlist on spotify dedicated to it: I've placed the songs in sequence so that they can create a certain vibe for the scenes I had in mind. You can read the plot part while listening.

Some character traits

This royalty au supposes a parliamentary monarchy (like the UK, Spain or Japan). This work is an in-between of later Roman/early Medieval aesthetics and some Futuristic Stuff. The Autobot brand is the royal family crest, while the Decepticon brand can be used to signal the Protector and their entourage, but only in formal settings outside the nation. Usually, the Protector can show elements of the Decepticon colours (red) in their attires.

Optimus Prime

Optimus is prideful and domineering: he knows he has the power to do real damage to people. After all, he was born into royalty and has known no other life. He has anger outbursts, but that's a side effect of his paranoia. At the start of the story, he is not the prime yet. He's around 23-24, already suffering from a mental affliction much like schizophrenia, but, just as in ye old days, the court and his father (Zeta) are not really concerned about his odd behaviours. "He is just volatile", you know. He is also dramatic, making big scenes when his emotions are too cooped up. Optimus, though, is not intentionally cruel - this isn't a Shattered Glass au where he wants some kind of bloodlust sated. He has a deep inner mind, feeling much more like a philosopher and a writer than a brute. This makes him a little naive, too, having people in court (like Prowl) taking advantage of him - and sometimes even Megatron uses his influence on Optimus to stir him where he wants to. He reads a lot, is curious, and is deeply in love with Megatron - sometimes becoming a little cringy about it. He can be a bit of a goofball, telling jokes and being rather affectionate with his family. Sadly, he's a Pisces.

Megatron

Megatron is a diligent engineer who just so happens to pick the Prime's son's interest at some point while assisting his father (Terminus, a strict, distant man) in a job at court. Optimus and Megatron are the same age. He is aloof, quiet and a very good listener. That means he often allows people to speak over him or for him - that doesn't mean, however, that he isn't going to correct them or speak his mind. He is just a careful man. Coming from a rather cold family environment, he has a hard time expressing his emotions, both verbally and physically: he kisses and hugs, sure, but that doesn't come naturally to him. After becoming protector, he has a hard time getting used to the court lifestyle since he is quite bothered by the intricacies of royal "rituals", may they be clothing, hairstyles or make-up choices. Or Starscream fussing over him about that all day. He also often stands up against abuse of power, especially from Optimus. They fight quite a lot. He enjoys drawing (buildings, like architecture) and reading novels, but he's not particularly cultured. He is also, sadly, an Aquarius. (And transgender, but this has no political or social bearing in the story besides being Rodimus' biological carrier).

Prowl

Prowl is about fifteen years older than Optimus, becoming his advisor once Zeta Prime passes in "a tragic accident". He is ambitious, cunning and... Deceptive. His ultimate goal is to push Optimus to insanity, convince the parliament he is unfit to rule and become reagent in his stead. This would allow him to create an oligarchy with other senators. His words always support Optimus' delusions, abusing the Prime's naivety for his scheming. Prowl thinks of Optimus as an idiot lucky enough to be born in a high position in the social pyramid. He has attempted various times to "warn" Megatron, one of the few people who is extremely suspicious of Prowl. And by warn, I mean having him pushed down the stairs, giving him a nice broken leg. He also acts suspiciously around Rodimus.

Zeta Prime

Zeta Prime was a balanced, careful ruler. He held concerns about his son's future, as he thought Optimus wasn't fit for a leading role. He was a stern man and often frustrated by Optimus' antics. However, their relationship was on good terms. He was "found" dead by Prowl during a political meeting abroad, as he was standing in for Alpha Trion (Zeta's advisor), prompting Optimus' coronation. Zeta wasn't sick, but all primes in this AU suffer from haemophilia (a hereditary illness that makes it harder for the body to stop bleeding).

Rodimus

Rodimus was born three years into Optimus' primacy. He was brought up in a restrictive environment, as Megatron grew more suspicious of Prowl, fearing for Rodimus' safety. That translated into Rodimus feeling anxious when Megatron's not around (for too long, at least) and becoming a little jealous of him, even if it's Optimus taking Megatron's attention. Rodimus uses "dad" for Megatron and "Father" for Optimus. He doesn't like Optimus too much, usually bearing his presence and ignoring him whenever he can, but deep down he worries about his father, too. He is a very knowledgeable child with a vast vocabulary, as he enjoys books of every kind and, just like his dad, he is a good listener, learning a lot from the "adult conversations" around him. Rodimus is often seen together with Starscream (his nanny, in a way lol), who he is fond of but has difficulties showing it. He becomes Prime-to-be at the age of 16, like all Primes.

Starscream

Starscream was the royal alchemist, an inspired researcher and a man of science. He is loyal and has strong opinions on many subjects, especially on morals and ethics. That is also why, during Zeta's late reign, he was demoted to servant with the accusation of insubordination. He is still a high-grade servant, usually dealing with bureaucracy... Until a new Protector shows up, that is. As soon as Megatron becomes a Protector-to-be, he is assigned the role of first maid in assisting him, a task he takes very seriously. Although Megatron's distance and lack of interactions with him drive him quite mad at first, he slowly realises they're quite compatible. Their relationship evolves into confidants and then friends, as Megatron often takes Starscream's side. Also, Starscream has been suspicious of Prowl since day one. He enjoys Rodimus until he starts being a little opinionated pest-- but he's fond of the child, even as he grows older and more anxious. His hobby is sneaking into the court laboratories and fixing whatever annotations made by other alchemists he deems wrong.

Skywarp & Thundercracker

They are part of the Protector's entourage (and Starscream's brothers). Skywarp is a little airheaded, a bit clumsy, and usually focuses on entertainment, mostly writing poems and songs. He is the only one who knows all the intricate inner passages of the court's buildings by heart, meaning he never gets lost. Thundercracker, on the other hand, is a bit more cocky. He is built like a brick, so he helps with manual tasks and is a decent leader, usually picking up the ranks when Starscream is busy. Both of them were not demoted like their brother, they just started working at the court as high-grade servants. They are very loyal to Megatron, although they treat him more like a royal than a friend.

The Plot (generally speaking)

Optimus is interested in this one engineer working at the court he has seen a couple of times in the last few months. He is gorgeous, and it sounds like a fun time to fill in his afternoons, maybe even getting some sex out of it. That's a thing he hasn't lacked in his life, like most royals he was used to having sex workers available at whim. However, Megatron doesn't seem too affected by the Prime-to-be's attention. He is very deadpan and interested in him as a person; he finds Optimus interesting and funny, so, in a matter of weeks, they kind of hit it off, Optimus falling madly in love with this man, spending most of the time daydreaming and absolutely useless at his duties, much to Zeta's dismay.

As this love story progresses over the next couple of years, Prowl's machination starts rolling out: being a young overachiever, he patiently waits for the chance to get rid of Zeta in a way that doesn't point directly to him. After all, Prowl is trusted and seen as loyal and caring for the Primes he serves; he is an incredibly talented actor, having the support of a few Autobot senators, too. On an out-of-country political trip, he lets Zeta bleed to death, coming back home in a hurry to announce the Prime's death and rushing Optimus' coronation. At this point, Optimus is not mentally ready to hold that position; he is quickly pushed to marry Megatron, making him his Protector. In a matter of a year and a half, Optimus' mental state quickly deteriorates, allowing Prowl to take hold of the neo-Prime's decisions.

Optimus' mental illness worsens, which stresses Megatron into stirring his husband away from Prowl. Rodimus is born in that worried, paranoid environment. Although mostly wanted by Optimus as one of his fixations (and also discouraged by Prowl himself), Rodimus brings more stability to the court. Megatron finally takes hold of Optimus' volatile behaviour as Rodimus grows older, making the Prime doubt his advisor's suggestions more than once. Prowl, thus, "warns" Megatron to lay low, having him pushed down the stairs. The goal wasn't to kill Megatron but to show him Prowl could. As Rodimus turns seven, Megatron becomes more anxious and paranoid, rubbing that over to his son. Optimus doesn't allow them to go around the court or outside without being accompanied.

Prowl's hold on Optimus slowly slips away. At the time of Rodimus' coronation as a Prime-to-be, during a medical examination for his haemophilia, the court physician (Ratchet) tells him he needs to be careful, as that illness was Zeta's cause of death. That was a known thing, of course, but it made Optimus think over the mechanics of his father's death in a way only an obsession-driven man can. He confides with Megatron over his suspicion of Prowl killing his father, and finally, they seem to be on the same page on this...

This is somehow the story up to now. I don't know if I'll update it further. I just enjoy the idea of whatever can happen in this setting. I hope you enjoyed reading this wall of text.

[macsimagines]

mikey izana and shin react to getting scented so thorughly by their s/o that they get mistaken for an omega after leaving the house

Darling almost never gets to be the possessive one lol nice change of pace.

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, ABO

Yandere!Alpha Manjiro Sano

He loves you and loves to be scented by you, but you're a little bit needier than usual with your heat coming soon. "Baby, you gotta let me go. We need groceries." "Mmmmm, lemme just rub on you a little more~ Pleeeaaase, baby?"

Immediately regrets it when he walks outside reeking of Omega. He shakes it off when he hears a few whistles down the street because there's no way they're whistling at him.

Then some asshole alpha, that REEKS of horny, tries to pick him up in the middle of the store. "Hey baby, want a real man to take care of your heat?" "...Man going to jail wasn't on my to-do list BUT-"

Ya he beats that guy in the middle of a damn Walgreens and goes home to give you an earful. Too bad he walks in and your heat is in full swing.

"Mikey? Alpha? ...Why do you smell like that!?" you snarl in repulsion. "Your fault. Come here and fix it."

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

In a similar situation to Mikey's. You're in your heat and usually Izana wouldn't allow such dominant displays, but you're never this loving to him.

He is just drowning in your attention and affection when he suddenly remembers that he forgot to get some groceries for your heat. And he can't have you starving when you're being such a good girl.

Doesn't leave you though. Can't bear the thought of going out when you're finally being so caring to your rightful Alpha and King, so he just opts to order food for you.

Then the delivery driver shows up with all the groceries in hand and Izana makes the mistake of opening the door to greet him. "Damn, baby-boy. Rough heat?" the guy says with a sleazy smile and Izana doesn't even think twice before grabbing him by the collar and smashing his face into the adjacent wall.

"You try'na die, Fucker?" he growls, letting off all the suffocating alpha pheromones that you've been drowning out. But then he hears your sad little chirps from the other room and is forced to release the idiot delivery driver.

Yandere!Shinichiro Sano

He is so in love with you and lets you scent him as much as you damn well please. Even though, it is constantly getting him into trouble.

Gets hit on all the time by other alpha's that think he's some cute rebellious Omega. "I'm an ALPHA FUCKERS!" Gets his ass kicked a lot for picking those fights...

Wouldn't change a thing though because at least he has an omega that loves to scent him as much as you do. Honestly gets high off all the pheromones you're giving.

"Mmmmgoodsogoodbabymmmm~" croons so happy and pleased for you every time you snuggle and scent him. "That's a good, Alpha. Letting your Omega scent you, like a good boy~" and he just nods along and says whatever you want to hear because he really is such a good boy.

Does get made fun of by everyone. "So...How was Y/N, Big Bro? Was she happy? Cause she smells like she was suuuuper happy-" "Shuddup, Mikey! You just don't know what it takes to keep an Omega happy!"

He wears your smell with pride though. Doesn't ever tell you to stop it and in fact encourages you to do it more often. He also scents you just as much.

"We gotta make sure people can smell your Alpha right baby?"

[itsnotmystic]

Okay, so with the news that Phil's wings weren't clipped but straight up paralyzed on the qsmp, I come bearing thoughts (angst):

Imagine Phil first getting to the island. The confusion of this new place and uncertainty around these new people. He tries to fly to find a place to perch, to watch for any dangers but- he can't. He can't move his wings. The growing panic as they're not responding to him, and instead just sit dully on his back. Yes, he's dealt with injured wings before - how could he ever forget that stone room - but at least then, despite the damage, he could still feel and move them. But now, he has absolutely no control of an integral part of his being. It's an overwhelming panic that fades into a simmering anxiety that never truly leaves.

Imagine when he meets the kids. These precious, new to the world fledglings that have been placed under his care. He wants to protect them and show them that he cares, but- he can't. Not how he wants to, at least. He can't wrap his wings around them during a hug, he can't lay a wing around their shoulders if they get cold. He can hold them in his arms and offer an extra blanket, but that doesn't replace the deep ache within him, the feeling that he's not doing what he should.

Battle is harder. He's used to relying on his wings for advantages- quicker dodges, higher jumps, better balance. Now? They're a hindrance, and he loathes to think of Her gift as such, but he needs to relearn how to fight. He begins shoving them into a backpack to deal with them. It hurts, stuffing them in there when all he wants is to feel the wind in his feathers, but it makes life on the island more manageable.

Purgatory happens. One would think the blood red skies and harsh air wouldn't be conducive to healing but- slowly, he realizes he can move his wings again. It starts small- a twitch here and there when something surprises him, which turns into him being able to slowly stretch them out. Standing outside, surrounded by the dead bodies of his team as wind fills his open wings, Phil finally feels alive again.

He didn't think he'd be able to fly, but as they all make a break for the ship, he stretches his wings out in a desperate attempt to at least glide. On instinct, his wings flap- they move. It's painful. By void, is it painful, tired, aching muscles after months of misuse. But he's flying. Phil could almost laugh.

Maybe that's why he tried jumping off the wall. Once back on the island, he couldn't move them anymore, but he still dealt with the aches of when he did. It kept him up at night. Maybe, just maybe, they'd work. They'd catch him on instinct, just like they had done in Purgatory. The wind is cold and biting as he stands on the edge, almost like a warning. He thinks back to the very time he tried flying, with mechanical wings all those years ago. Then, he had been saved by Her before hitting the water. This time, there's nothing that prevents him from being surrounded by the icy water, pulled under by the weight of his wings.

He gives up. There's an aching disappointment in letting go of hope, but as long as he's on the island, he can't fly. Maybe that's why he can't find it in himself to be devastated when the Ender King destroys his wings further. He briefly mourns the destruction of his wife's gift but shoulders the grief and continues on.

His wings don't work anyway.

[starogeorgina]

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧

Warnings: Hints of violence, character death, swearing

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × OC

1.11

As you stand atop the hill of Rhaenys, watching as the masses are hurled like cattle towards the red keep, you hear the distant roar of a dragon approaching. The sky darkens as Vhagar swoops in from above, her dark scales glistening in the sunlight. It was hard to believe that the she-dragon was once ridden by Queen Visenya Targaryen during Aegon’s conquest, and after she died of a sudden illness, Prince Baelon Targaryen was the legendary dragon's next rider, followed by the late lady Laena Velaryon. A war-hardened dragon such as Vhagar deserves better than to be ridden by a kinslayer.

As you witness the dragons finally land on top of another hill, a feeling of anger begins to burn inside of you. You think about all the lives lost, all the families torn apart, and all the destruction that has been wrought upon House Targaryen. Your heart aches with grief and rage, and you vow to do whatever it takes to protect your remaining children.

As the chaos around you subsides, you feel a wave of exhaustion and grief wash over you.

Aeron, Harys, Aegon, Lucerys.

The weight of the losses your family has suffered, including the destruction caused by your own brother—your husband—becomes almost too much to bear. You collapse to the ground, tears streaming down your face as you mourn for the lives lost and the damage done.

Aeron, Harys, Aegon, Lucerys.

You mount Dallax and fly closer to the keep. As you continue to witness the coronation about to start taking place in the carriage that Aemond would be in, your rage begins to consume you. You can no longer see reason or think clearly, and all you can focus on is your desire for revenge against Aemond, which overtakes all logic.

As you contemplate the weight of the news, a dark thought begins to take hold in your mind. The memory of your firstborn son, lover, and nephew being killed by your husband, the new ‘king’, floods your thoughts. He had taken everything from you, including the life of the only person who would truly understand your pain, the only person who would be able to reason with you.

Dallax circles the castle a few times, letting out deafening roars and belching plumes of fire that set the empty grounds below ablaze, and before your mind fully comprehends your next instructions, you direct Dallax towards the part of the castle where Aemond’s quarters are and utter the words no dragon rider should say so easily.

“Dracarys.”

—

You arrive at Dragonstone, where your sister's army is waiting outside, ready to sacrifice their lives fighting for their queen.

The silence is eerie, and the only sound you hear is the gasps of those who see you walking through the hallways with dirt, ash, and blood covering your clothes, face, hair, and body as you make your way towards the chambers of the painted table. Hopefully Rhaenyra would be there so you could confess the outrageous act of war you had just committed. When the wind begins to blow harshly, the smell of smoke and death fills your nostrils, making you gag. You try to push forward, continuing your search for Rhaenyra.

As you approach the door to the room, you see two knights guarding it, one of them being Ser Erryk. Soon as the knight notices you, he swings the door open and calls for Prince Daemon, announcing your arrival.

As you wander through the room, you start to notice that nobody standing around the painted table can make eye contact with you. Lords avoid you, and even Princess Rhaenyes and Lord Corlys seem to be shying away from you. You start to feel a sense of unease and wonder what has happened in your absence.

A lump forms in your throat, and your voice begins to crack as you try to speak. Tears flow down your face uncontrollably as you struggle to maintain your composure.

“Empty the room!” Daemon barks before coming to stand in front of you, "Theodora."

Your words turn to sobs as you explain everything that happened to the best of your ability. “It’s my fault they’re dead,” you croak. “I tried to save Lucerys; I did; I tried to reach him in time."

Overwhelmed by emotion, you fall to your knees and continue to cry. You feel a deep sense of despair and desperation; the only thing keeping you from completely losing your mind was the need to hold and comfort your daughters. Your body shakes with sobs, and you feel helpless and lost.

Daemon crouches down in front of you and tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “When word of what happened at Storm’s end reached Dragonstone, Rhaenyra immediately left to search for her son's body, but fishermen recovered a boy from the sea, a boy they swear they saw fall from the sky before his dragon crashed into the water.”

You can hardly believe what you're hearing. After all the devastation and loss, the news that your nephew may survive brings a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. But you know it’s nothing more than your mind playing tricks on you; Lucerys was dead. You saw him die.

“He unbuckled his belt and leaped from Arrax, but Lucerys has been unconscious since he was brought home. He still may not survive.”

Tears roll down your cheek. “He’s alive?”

Daemon nods slowly.

“My son? Is he alive?"

“He is, princess.”

You fall forward and let out a loud wail. Aeron was alive; you’d get to see your sweet boy again. “Thank the gods." You notice tears forming in Daemon’s eyes when you lean back again. “And Aegon?”

“Badly wounded, he used his body to shield—Aeron.”

You scramble to stand again, but the pain in your stomach prevents you from doing so. Daemon offers you his hand to help you stand. “How bad is it?”

“The maesters say it’s pretty severe on one side.”

You wipe your eyes, smudging the soot on your face. “I need to see Aeron and my girls. Where are they?”

“I think it would be best if you bathed first.”

Exhausted, you huff, “I do not care about my appearance, uncle; I just want to see—”

“And you will,” he says, cutting you off. Daemon calls two servants in, ordering them to prepare your bath and to summon the maester. “Trust me, you need to bathe and be seen by a maester first.”

“No, I need to see my children, then, Aegon.”

“Aegon is at high risk of infection; they won’t allow you to see him in this state." Although his tone is harsh, there’s a hidden pain behind Daemon's eyes. “Your children will be scared if they see you like this.”

“I need to see them before talking to Rhaenyra.”

Daemon steps closer to you, letting out a deep sigh. “You can explain setting parts of the red keep on fire once you’ve seen them and been checked by a maester.”

Reluctantly, you agree.

—

The prince consort grits his teeth as he stares at the table in front of him. How many of these houses would change their allegiance now that they knew what Aemond was capable of? The lords and ladies of Westeros would say whatever it took to save their people. Not that the prince blamed them; deep down, he knew he’d commit any sin or break any oath to protect his family.

“You didn’t tell her.”

Hearing the hints of a scalding tone in Princess Rhaenys’s voice, Daemon clicks his tongue. “No, I didn’t.”

“She will find out one way or another.”

“I am aware,” he says sharply.

Rhaenys has been the voice of reason many times during council meetings; however, the princess wasn’t shy about calling others out, and now wasn’t the correct time to approach the prince, not when he was trying to figure out the blacks next move.

“Why did she need a maester?”

Daemon turns to face her, the look on his face making it clear he was already disinterested in the conversation. “The princess—”

“The princess?” Rhaenys chuckles. “What was it called her before? An insufferable Hightower cunt, I believe?”

“That was before she sacrificed the life growing inside her to try and save Lucerys.” He looks over Rhaenys shoulder and watches as the sun dips below the horizon. “Theodora’s bump is gone, and as she doesn’t have the child with her, I'm presuming the babe died. So I thought it was best not to say anything until she’s seen by the maester.”

As Daemon’s words sink in, a fleeting smile forms on the older woman's lips. It's rare for anyone to see the prince's softer side, let alone in the midst of such turmoil and tragedy. But Daemon showing sympathy to a girl he once considered an enemy was a reminder that not all is lost. Although not for a second did she envy him, as shortly Prince Daemon would need to inform his young niece that her daughter and sister were dead.

[novasintheroom]

Prince Vash arranged marriage AU headcanons - Part 1

Prince!Vash who grew up a free spirit and can hardly imagine getting married, let alone to a stranger like his brother, King Nai, is telling him to.

Prince!Vash who fights and fights and fights having to be in an arranged marriage.

Prince!Vash who finally gives in when war threatens between your two kingdoms, and the only thing either side is willing to do is have an arranged marriage – so both royalties have an eye on and a finger in each other’s pie. Vash loves his people more than his freedom, and he refuses to be the reason any of them perish in war.

He knows it’s a doomed marriage from the start.

Prince!Vash who is not stunned by his new wife’s beauty, or enraptured, or anything he expected if he ever got married. He’s heard about you. The eldest daughter of the kingdom – born to wield power, now forced to bend a knee and give up that right. You’re boring, that’s what everyone says, and he dreads that description more than anything else. But he does see the wheels turning in your head as you walk down the aisle, dress train dragging behind like a corpse. Like you’re still trying to find a way out of this. All grim-faced and tears in your eyes, he at least takes comfort in the fact that you’re just as miserable about this as he is.

No kisses are exchanged, only rings and sighs of finality. The newly bound kingdoms celebrate, and Prince!Vash is swept away in the festivities, getting drunker and drunker and not caring for the glares his brother sends his way. It’s his fault for this; the least Nai can do is let Vash get his woes out through alcohol and partying. Vash doesn’t care where you are – not now. Not until he stumbles to his rooms and is immediately sobered by the thought that it is his wedding night, and what that implies.

Prince!Vash who stands outside his rooms nervously for fifteen minutes. He curses Nai, bites at his nails, paces the length of the hallway while receiving strange looks from the staff. Then, comes to the conclusion that he’ll have to just grin and bear it through this, too, and opens the door.

You aren’t there.

You aren’t in the adjoining suite either, where your new rooms have been made. Perhaps you’re still out partying; doing the same thing Vash was to forget the awful situation you both found yourselves in. Fine by him. He heaves a sigh of relief and plummets into bed. He can’t sleep, though. Every set of footsteps he hears outside sets him on edge. Is it you? Finally come to claim your rites? He jumps awake at every noise for the next three hours, until, finally, the alcohol settles in him and he nods off at the break of dawn.

Prince!Vash who, despite his own feelings, tries his best to get to know you that first week after the wedding. But you’re slippery. Almost more slippery than himself. He tries talking to you, walking with you, even cornering you at one point, but you always manage to slip away with an excuse he can’t refute. There’s no nighttime visits between your rooms, no talking. You’re a stranger in his castle, just like you’re a stranger bound to him by rings and vows.

Until, one night, his sweet tooth hits, and he hops on down to the kitchen to grab a pastry. He opens the doors without preamble – the staff know him and his cravings – and is surprised to hear a quiet sound of surprise from the corner of the darkened room.

It’s you. With a peanut butter and jelly sandwich clutched to your chest. You’re dressed in your nightgown, hair askew and eyes watering and certainly not looking like the put-together princess he had married. He doesn’t look much better, and for some reason, it startles a laugh out of him. He’s surprised to hear you laugh back, a weird tension falling off both of your shoulders as you eat your treat and he finds his own. He stays with you long after you’ve both eaten, talking and getting to know each other without the prying eyes of the court or staff to hear.

It starts a nighttime ritual for you two – a way to get to know each other on your own terms. He’ll take a jaunt down to the kitchens, find you there with some sort of new treat, and get his own. Sometimes you'll even share the other half of your PB&J with him. He's split more than a few pastries with you. You’re surprisingly easy to talk with, and certainly not boring like everyone warned him. He learns a lot about you –that peaches are your favorite fruit compared to his strawberries, what books are your favorite, how much you hate the play The Archipelago. Vash shares his own interests in technology, how his solar-powered arm works, his taste in music, some stories of him sneaking out to the farmlands to be a farmhand for a day or two before Nai marched his ass back to the castle. He likes telling those stories the most. You have a great laugh.

One night, you confide in him how much you miss your family – your brother and sisters, how you were always the voice of reason to their antics, and how much you worry what the court is doing to them now that you aren’t there to thwart their schemes. Tears come to your eyes as you describe the grassy fields and tall forests you’d ride through in the fall time. Vash’s gut curls, and he makes a promise right then to do his best to make his kingdom a new home for you, rather than the prison you view it as.

Prince!Vash who takes you out to the city to try his nation’s foods as they should be – on the streets and in his people’s hard-earned businesses. Vash is popular with the people (far more so than his brother, you note), and most greet him with warm, welcoming smiles while he traipses through town with his new wife. He’s eager every time you try something new – bowls of blackberry yogurt with orange slices and granola, strawberry shortcakes, and his personal favorite, the apple cider donuts from Riri’s, sprinkled with sugar. Every time your eyes light up at a new treat, he’s delighted. Food is a great way to bond between you two, it seems.

Prince!Vash who learns how to share secret looks with you across the room in meetings. He’s always bored in them, despite how he tries to pay attention for his people’s sake. It starts with your quick, wide-eyed looks at him whenever one of the dukes or other nobles makes a particularly scathing remark about someone else. You twitch your left eye to ask him a question about the discussion going on, and he tugs his lips to one side and shakes his head. He blinks twice and rolls a shoulder to tell you the answer to another inquiry. Somehow, you get it. It’s the funnest time he’s had in these meetings in a while. Sometimes you’ll throw in a cross-eyed look to tell him ‘I hate this, this is boring, I can’t believe this, etc.’ Nai’s given him and you more than one look for the snorts Vash lets out.

It's hard to get used to this new situation. It’s hard to get used to the ring around his finger, how some days it fits fine, and others it feels too tight and restricting. But you’ve made it easier. You’re kind, and willing to be adventurous alongside him, and have a great sense of humor.

Prince!Vash who finally accepts…maybe…you two can be friends.

[o0anapher0o]

Okay so this is a bit rambly but bear with me.

One of my favourite things about the rwrb movie (the book too, but does it to a lesser extent) is that, in defiance of all romcom conventions, every time there is a misunderstanding/conflict, instead of stewing in it and letting it create more problems, within minutes of screen time, one of them forces a confrontation, they communicate and the problem goes away. (Almost like communication works or something.)

This happens multiple times throughout the film: Alex hates Henry. Henry makes him explain why, the hash it out, Henry apologises, problem solved.

Henry ghosts Alex after New Years. Alex makes him meet with him. Okay, to say they talk it out is probably too generous, but communication happens. They establish that they both want this (repeatedly), they create some mutual understanding, Henry lays out the boundaries of what this relationship can be for him and they find a way to make that work.

The same when Henry runs away from the Lake House. Alex comes after him and forces him to talk to him and while they obviously can’t solve the root problem, they settle on a compromise and a promise of ‘we’ll figure it out together and we’re not giving up’. They're back together and reasonably optmistic about the future.

To a lesser degree this even applies to other relationships in the film: Alex and his mom’s fight after the Texas memo leak ends when Ellen starts actually listening to him and reads his memo.

The e-mail leak can only be handled once Alex breaks the communication embargo, goes to Henry and they talk to the king. (Who tries to hide the true reaction of the public from them and the situation can only be resolved once someone (Bea) tells them about the crowds outside.)

Ellen wins the election, because of Alex, after she listened to him and after she lets him give his speech/communicate his truth about the leak (unlike the king who tries to hide Henry away and deny the truth).

Characters get rewarded for talking to one another and punished for not communicating.

The memo wouldn’t have been a problem if Zarah and Ellen had actually listened to Alex’s ideas about Texas before. Alex and Henry end up in the wedding cake & their forced public friendship they hate, because they refuse to talk to each other like normal people and it only stops being a punishment when they start doing that.

Philipp is shown the entire film talking at Henry without any interest in listening to his brother even once. The same goes for King James. He doesn’t communicate, he merely declares his intentions and actively shuts down anybody else’s contribution to the ‘conversation’. Both of them end up not only looking utterly ridiculous but they also loose in the end. The loose face, the loose control over Henry and they’re the ones who have to pick up the pieces of their failure to handle this situation while Henry gets to celebrate and be with the man he loves. (You could even make an argument that the way he is in the election celebration and then at Alex family house symbolises he gets a whole new family and home.)

In so many comedies the humour relies entirely on people not having the simplest conversation and making the characters behave utterly absurd in order to avoid conversations, and here is this movie telling us over and over “Communication is important!” Blame my deep hatred for the avoidable miscommunication trope but I just love that.

[jackolantern707]

[Belphegor x MC] Morning Cuddles

WHB - Family AU

Note: First time writting, bad grammar, OC kids/kids with names

—

The first light of dawn gently filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting a soft glow on the room that was covered in black. You blinked your eyes open, the early morning haze slowly giving way to the realization that you were trapped.

To your right, the king of Niflheim, the cardinal sin of sloth - Belphegor, or your lazy husband, was sprawled across the bed, snoring softly. His arm draps over your waist in a lazy hug, his face peaceful in sleep.

Belphegor was not a morning person. And never be. Any attempt to wake him before he was ready would result in a grumpy grumble and a mumbled complaint, or… worse…. Beleth has been working hard all these times.

You smile at the thought and pat your husband's head, caressing his hair. The devil of sloth let out a purr, burying his head in the nape of your neck and continuing his travel in the dream world.

You just sigh and look at your other side. Curling around on your left was your little boy, Lazlo. He clung to you like a little koala, his small hands gripping your shirt. His black hair which he inherited from his father is tousle, and his face buried in your hip. He is your little shadow, always seeking your warmth and comfort. Belphegor and he sometimes at each other’s throat all because of this. But they are both too lazy to fight and end up cuddling together. Whenever Beleth comes to pick them up, he now has to carry both of them piggyback, with Lazlo on top Belphegor’s back. 

And then there was Remy, Lazlo's twin sister, perched precariously on top of you, with her head resting on your chest, one leg sprawled over her brother. Unlike her father, Remy was a light sleeper, and she was always the first to wake up between the three of them. “To spend more time with mommy” was her reason.

Remy is a quiet girl with big round and lively eyes. Her favorite thing is to drag her father and brother outside and the three of them just lay down wherever they can sleep. 

There was one time the whole Niflheim had to look in every nook and cranny to find them because they disappeared for the whole day. Not a single note and not even going back to eat. Turns out they were sleeping at the river near the border of Niflheim and Tatarus. You really want to give them a punishment but… Look at those puppy eyes! ╰（‵□′）╯ Agrh they all know your weakness and now take advantage of it.

It seems like this morning Remy also enjoying the luxury of sleeping in.

You sighed softly, careful not to disturb the delicate balance. You could feel the warmth of your lovely family all around you, a cocoon of love and comfort. But as much as you cherish these moments, you also need to start your day. Niflheim can operate well in the past without Belphegor is due to the poor hard working nobles and other devils. But now you’re the queen of Niflheim, Belphegor’s wife, you want to help too, mostly just paper works, but the devils always look so grateful (cus they like to use their hands more than their head?)

You glance at the clock on the nightstand - 5:39 AM. The alarm should go off soon, and you need to find a way to extricate yourself without waking everyone.

You start with Belphegor, gently lifting his heavy arm and placing it back on his side of the bed. At first, it doesn’t seem to work since he just grip your waist tighter. After a few more tries, you finally escape his bear hug. Belphegor mumbles something incoherent but doesn't wake up. Thank God (oh wait–) 

Next was Lazlo. You carefully lift him up and free your poor shirt from his fingers, then gently place him next to his father. He stir slightly but then snuggle into Belphegor’s chest, still fast asleep.

Remy is the tricky one. She has been on top of your belly the whole time when you move the other two.

You slowly shift, trying to carry her the same way with Lazlo and lay her down on top of Belphy. Just as you thought the mission complete, Remy's eyes fluttered open. She looks up at you, sleepy and confused.

"Mommy?... Where are you going…" Remy whispered, try to keep her eyes open.

"Just getting up, sweetheart," You whispered back. "Go back to sleep my little potato."

Remy nods and rolls over, snuggling into her father while hand grip onto Lazlo. With your children settled, you finally slip out of bed, feeling a pang of guilt but also a sense of relief. You tiptoe to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind you and getting ready for work.

A few minutes later, you now feel refreshed and ready to face the day. You peek into the bedroom and smile. Belphegor had shifted in his sleep, now lying sprawled on his back. Lazlo and Remy were huddled together, as Lazlo also got pick up and lay on top of Belphy’s chest, their faces serene.

You headed to the office, with breakfast has already prepared for you. The smell of cacao soon filled the whole room. As you sipping the sweet and bitter drink, you smile happily. Mornings might be a bit chaotic, and you might feel like a human sandwich sometimes (all the time), but these moments were precious. They were the moments that made your life in Hell lively and full of love.

—

Thanks for reading (^///^)/

Yeah I put the name in so it's easier to call the kids 🥹

🎃

[oops-it-happened-again]

The Pretty Prince - Chapter 1

From the start, I want to specify that I'm not looking for hostile discourse about camps and who's right and wrong. Please, do not come to me seeking to fight.

If this is not your vision, that's okay. Please don't come for me!

Ellyn Baratheon lives a life in the shadows in her father's keeping. Until the day she and her sisters are told that they might soon be married to the King's brother. Dreading an uncertain future where all their secrets may come to light, she takes a reckless decision.

Words: 3k

Pairing: Aemond x Ellyn Baratheon (textual ghost)

Warnings: abuse, neglect, insecurity, arranged marriage, mention of brothel, mention of disfigurement, insults, slightly Aemond-apologetic, Aemond is a sad boy

Aemond kept as still as he could while the Lord of Storm’s End went through the usual motions of displaying his power and influence with despicable self-importance.

He’d expected as much, but it made him slightly uneasy, nevertheless, to feel the eyes of so many courtiers and counsellors following his every minute movement.

What were they thinking? Were they in awe or wickedly amused by his presumption?

His mother had been very clear in her instructions—he was to cement his brother’s claim to the throne by offering his hand in marriage to bind Borros Baratheon to their cause.

“At least there are two of them,” Alicent had sighed when she’d looked at her unfortunate son with quiet discouragement. “It’s your name—our name—you’ll be selling. Let’s hope that is convincing enough.”

As he now weathered the insidious tempest of disobliging whispering, Aemond sank deeper into his immobility for fear that even the minutest flinch would give away his thoughts.

Neither his mother nor his grandsire or brother had considered, even for a minute, that a maiden might want to wed him.

He was the king’s son, the king’s brother, and those fraying links of blood and loyalty were all he had to show in his favour.

As he stood, tall and cold as a statue, in the draughty hall, Aemond couldn’t shake the memory of the subdued despair painting his relatives’ faces a ghostly white—things were dire, he’d been told, and they had to make bold strokes.

Daeron, of course, was too young and outside the reach of their mother’s grasp, so she’d seen herself compelled to offer what she clearly thought of as “damaged goods” in hopes that the wave of good fortune and pure luck that had carried their House thus far would overwhelm others into complying.

Once upon a time, Aemond knew, a young Alicent had herself made her fortune by being sweet and comely, thus catching the eye and affection of a widowed king, but he could boast neither one of these favours.

Lord Borros grunted loudly, and Aemond had to suppress a shiver of apprehension. What if this formidable ally would deny his brother’s request for fealty on account of the prospective groom’s shortcomings?

He couldn’t bear imagining the look of utter revulsion on his mother’s face if he came back without having secured an advantageous match—thus, he clenched his jaw and waited.

All the knowledge and skill he’d acquired over the years meant nothing in this arena, and Aemond dreaded the arrival of the daughters of the house.

He knew for a fact that they’d been summoned, but the hall remained eerily empty. Their potentially wilful tardiness annoyed him because his stomach was churning with tension as he was reminded of the countless times he’d been deliberately snubbed and excluded before.

“I don’t have all day,” he hissed, earning but a tired look from the resident Lord.

“They’ll be here soon enough, and then you can have your pick,” Baratheon drawled, leaning back in his chair in an explicit show of disinterested superiority.

Aemond found that he was relieved to see that his negotiation partner seemed disinclined to maudlin preoccupation—this would be vital if the girls outright refused to do as they were told.

The scene taking shape in his head—a sweet-looking, dark-haired girl clutching at her father’s legs while begging him not to condemn her to such a terrible fate—made his mouth curl into a sour sneer.

“Ah, here they come now. My Prince—meet my daughters.”

“Come on, Ellyn,” Cassandra hissed as she burst into her sister’s room like an autumn storm unleashed. “The King’s brother is here—he’s agreed to wed one of us.”

Laying her book aside with a guilty flinch, Ellyn stood and patted her hair nervously.

“Remember!” Cassandra said urgently to which the other merely nodded. “Leave it to me!”

Ellyn Baratheon was almost two and twenty years of age, but her father—guided by his meddling council—had long since decided that he would pass her off as his third-born daughter instead, which was easily done as she was small of stature and soft-featured.

Cassandra, of course, was so much like him that she was the perfect choice for a provisional heir while he prayed for a son nightly.

Tall and stern, Maris was by far the smartest of the gaggle of daughters, and Ellyn had readily agreed not to stand in the way of her bright sister’s promising future.

Thus, she’d taken her place on the third rung—a future consolation prize for a minor lord or ally at best, and a contented spinster at worst.

She was not overly worried about Floris, their youngest, either for she was already beautiful and would most probably catch the eye and heart of any Lord she fancied without too much trouble.

“I thought the King’s brother was presently betrothed?” Ellyn whispered urgently as she was ushered into the tenebrous throne room.

“The new King,” Maris, who kept herself informed about the events and developments of the realm, replied haughtily. “Now be quiet and look pretty.”

Ellyn only managed to keep herself from rolling her eyes because her father’s imperious gaze settled on her at that very moment.

“My daughters,” he thundered and waved towards the row of young, nubile ladies expressively.

“Go then,” Maris said without moving her lips all too much and gave Cassandra a little nudge. “You wanted to be the oldest and the heir—go entertain our esteemed guest.”

“Oh, he’s disfigured,” Cassandra mumbled as she pretended to fuss with Maris’s collar. “Do I really have to?”

Ellyn meanwhile was spellbound by the apparition in black leather, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably as he waited for either one of them to go talk to him.

He was prodigiously tall and stood very upright as if aggressively demanding to be acknowledged by the milling courtiers and her wilfully dispassionate father.

From this distance, Ellyn couldn’t make out every subtlety of his features, but his overall demeanour was self-possessed and dignified enough to make her spine tingle.

“You can be your nasty self and make sure he won’t choose you,” Maris grinned and slouched. She’d been told many a time that she was the least comely of the bunch, and she evidently planned on taking advantage of that unfortunate shortcoming to avoid a less-than-alluring fate.

“He looks funny,” Floris whispered, tugging at Ellyn’s sleeve. Being barely more than a child, she couldn’t yet fully understand the intricacies of court life and its intrigues—to her, Ellyn was her oldest, most reliable sister, and she turned to her in her confusion.

“Hush, little one,” Ellyn cautioned. “He might well become a very important man soon. Just hold on to your doll and think of pleasant things.”

Not her, Ellyn prayed, not the baby. Floris was too young to be carried away to King’s Landing where she would be without her friends and family.

Let it be one of us, one who can defend herself and cry noiselessly. Please, Gods, spare the child—she wouldn’t know how to be a bride.

Despite her glacial pace, Cassandra had now reached their guest and was making conversation when, suddenly, the door opened anew, and the Queen’s young son was announced.

Aemond fought the instinctive impulse to avert his face from the cool gaze of the tall, self-possessed maiden walking towards him with grim determination.

“My Prince,” she greeted without an ounce of virginal shyness or understandable fear. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip.”

Oh, he thought, she’d been taught how to behave in such a situation and taught well at that. From her calm demeanour and steady gaze, he could deduce that she’d entertained and humoured more than one unwelcome guest of her father’s in her short life.

Despite his better knowledge, he wished that she’d show any kind of candid emotion other than steadfast dutifulness. Even horror would have been better than cold indifference.

Along the back wall stood three other girls, trying hard to dissimulate their hushed conversation by hiding their mouths behind slender hands.

“Your sisters won’t join us?” he asked, aghast at how tense and breathless his voice sounded.

Cassandra Baratheon—oldest daughter and heir apparent—cocked one eyebrow impatiently as she took a nimble step to bar his view on her siblings.

“You shall have the opportunity to meet each of them in turn if that is your desire,” she replied in the bored tone of a tired shopkeeper.

Different answers, unduly angry and even bordering on despicably petulant, rose to Aemond’s pinched lips and died unspoken in the damp air between them.

The girl lifted her head defiantly, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him as one gazed into an abyss just before taking a leap of faith.

“I take it you’d join your wife in Storm’s End?” she then said as he merely returned her icy look unflinchingly.

That reflection surprised and startled Aemond. “No,” he answered slowly.

“Well, as long as my father has no son, I’m bound to this place,” she shrugged.

For the first time since stepping out of the shadow of the hallway leading to their private rooms, Aemond saw her eyes light up with what he now recognised as insultingly earnest relief.

"What about your sisters?” he inquired, holding back his temper. The agony of being unwanted and unwelcome yet again thrashed like a wild beast within his chest, but he couldn’t let his undeniable faults ruin this tremendous chance for his House.

“Floris is too young to be taken away,” Cassandra replied sharply. “And Maris would probably nag you into taking her to Old Town to your mother’s kin.”

Mentally, Aemond weighed every piece of information carefully. There was a fourth daughter, he knew, but the young lady seemed unwilling to bring her up.

From where he stood, he could see her, bent over the youngest of the brood admonishingly. He couldn’t see her face very well, but she seemed comely enough, and the little girl’s expression was full of trust and love as she looked up at her older sister.

Cassandra followed his gaze and stiffened. “Ellyn,” she said in an unfathomably vague tone. “Who knows what she’d want—she’s a dreamer.”

Pulling himself back to the conversation at hand, Aemond snuffed out the spark of torturous envy that had been ignited in his heart at the sight of Ellyn’s small, pale hand smoothing down the youngest daughter’s braids soothingly.

Even after all these years, he still wished that things had been different between him and Aegon at times.

“I’d speak—”

He never got to finish his sentence as Lucerys was announced at that very moment.

An eternity of hurt and compounded slights came tumbling down to bury Aemond under his own folly.

In the end, he had to return to King’s Landing not only without the bride he’d sworn to secure but also with the terrible news that the first fell stroke of the looming war had been dealt by his very hand.

His mother only looked at him, eyes empty and lips pinched, before sweeping out of the room in disgust.

Later, Ellyn would hardly remember all the minute shifts in tone and demeanour that had led to the monumental tragedy of Prince Lucerys’s death, but the voice—raw, angry, and shockingly pained—of that looming, white-haired intruder stayed with her through many a night.

“Father will let him have one of us, nevertheless,” Cassandra prophesied as they sat around a blazing fire, Floris asleep on a nest of pillows at their feet. “He found Maris unprepossessing, and I must admit that he’s not what I’d hoped for either.”

When both her sisters turned to her, Ellyn drew her shoulders up as if to protect that spark of undue curiosity she’d buried deep within herself.

“He sounds…wounded,” she said cautiously.

“You don’t say? Were you so distracted by your romantic novels that you failed to notice the glaring lack of an eye?” Maris mocked. “What kind of man plans to present his mother with such a gruesome offering? He was outright frightening, no?”

Her tone was hard and unforgiving, and Ellyn frowned at the sight of the bitterness overtaking her plain features.

“One who wants to impress her?” she offered. “He’s well-grown and looks healthy. And he’s well-spoken.”

“If you disregard the unequivocal blemish and the fact that he’s a murderer,” Maris interjected coolly.

“Of course,” Ellyn sighed, feeling chastised once again. Her heart was too soft, and her mind too inclined to lose itself in fantastic stories to be relied upon to say the right thing at the right time.

“He has a face like a crescent moon,” Floris, who’d of course woken up at the worst possible moment mumbled.

“He looks dull,” Maris added pitilessly.

“He kind of is,” Cassandra agreed. “He’s just not…impressive enough. All those black clothes and the petulant expression—I’d rather hoped to marry someone more grandiose if you know what I mean?”

“You’re being ungenerous,” Ellyn interrupted their flood of mean words. “I thought him a fine-looking young man.”

“Well, then you can marry him for all I care,” Cassandra scoffed and breezed out of the room in a fit of unjust vexation.

As she lifted Floris into her arms to carry her to bed, Maris gave her sister a hard but not unkind stare. “Be happy that father demoted you—you clearly have much to learn still about the ways of the world and…men,” she said and left Ellyn alone, staring at the flames wistfully.

Even after she’d gone to bed, her sisters’ words haunted her. Displaced as she was, she loved them and wished to spare them any harm or pain.

In the eyes of the world, she might have been a lesser, younger daughter, but—in her heart of hearts—she knew what was expected of her.

Thus, she made a hare-brained, daring plan. Taking advantage of the fact that she’d grown almost invisible to those around her as war loomed on the horizon, she prepared for days before slipping out of her father’s castle under the cover of night.

To ensure that her disappearance would stay undiscovered for as long as possible, she didn’t take any of the guards or soldiers but fled with only her personal maid towards King’s Landing.

As soon as she’d made landfall, she hurried up a busy street and stopped at a vendor’s stall.

“I’m looking for the prince,” she whispered, jingling a few coins in her palm to signify that any information would be rewarded well.

“Which one?” the crone asked in a bored tone as she kept chewing on something soft and wet.

“The pretty one?” Ellyn said, afraid to speak his name where so many could overhear.

“He’s the King now,” the other laughed.

“No…the other one,” Ellyn sighed. “I mean him no harm—I—” She stopped herself before she could give away her identity inadvertently.

“Listen, lass, a pretty young thing like you should not go looking for Aemond One-Eye—he’s dangerous.” The woman spat into a street corner with admirable precision and then turned back to Ellyn. “Take it from me, dearie, you don’t want anything to do with him.”

I might not have a choice, Ellyn thought as her heart sank.

“I thank you, good woman,” she replied politely. “Where can I find out more? I’d like to know what kind of man he is.”

“Why?” The beady eyes of the old vendor now inspected her shrewdly, drinking in her dark, curly hair and her gentle, black eyes. “You’re not from here, are you?”

Knowing that she couldn’t very well tell this stranger that she wanted to protect her family and, if necessary, warn her sisters, Ellyn nodded wordlessly.

“I’ve seen him when he flew around the kingdom in the name of his brother…and I found him very intriguing,” she then breathed cautiously, hoping that her tone and wavering smile would give the impression of a puerile infatuation rather than of a deadly serious scouting mission.

“You’re as mad as he is,” the crone cackled. “Either way, ask around in the pillow houses and taverns—not that you’d find him there, but there might be people who know him better than I do, Gods be thanked.”

Bowing low, Ellyn dropped the coins into the gnarled hand that was extended towards her demandingly.

“Not promising,” Hala, her faithful maid and friend, who’d been standing just behind her throughout that whole conversation, whispered as they made their way into the bowels of the bright, sunny city. “What’s your plan?”

Just ahead, Ellyn saw the oddly familiar silhouette of a tall man walking stiff-backed towards an establishment of ill-repute, so she quickened her pace.

“Milady?” Hala called with mounting alarm.

Ideas and thoughts were considered and discarded at a pace that would have rivalled even Maris’s quick wit as they pushed their way through the throng of unwashed paupers and ruthless thieves.

Her father’s hall had been gloomy and ill-lit, and the Prince had certainly had other considerations on his mind than the seemingly innumerable daughters of a sour-tempered Lord—consequently, it was highly unlikely that His Highness would recognise her if he were to meet her again, stripped of all the trappings of her station and her house.

It was worth a try—instead of buying potentially false information from every low-born crook in the city, she might as well try to get to the man himself and make up her own mind about him.

Ellyn wasn’t naïve enough not to be fiercely aware of the moral peril she’d be, in for her father would certainly shun her if he ever learned of this, but she’d come too far to give up now.

“Why, my dear friend,” Ellyn grinned mischievously, feeling more like her brave, ferocious father’s daughter than ever before. “I’m going to pretend to be a whore.”

So, this was the first chapter. -> Chapter 2

⤳Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you want to read more of this, please let me know!

[sunnysideaeggs]

I saw speculation that Aegon will claim Cannibal in the next season, and as much as I love Sunfyre, I don’t hate the idea.

Otto said this : "Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conqueror's crown, wields the Conqueror's sword, and bears the Conqueror's name. He was anointed by a Septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him."

However, since his 'sausage' burst into flames and his only male heir is dead, Aegon's claim has been weakened in the eyes of the Westerosi lords and smallfolk. Because of that, he may need another symbol of legitimacy—Cannibal, an 'untameable beast' and a black dragon (similar to Aegon the conqueror), could serve that purpose...

i love the foils of sunfyre/the cannibal, one being a literal golden symbol of loyalty and bravery for the targaryens and the other being an abhorrent creature that eats its own young. my personal hc is that the cannibal, as a westerosi dragon, can only be claimed by a westerosi rider. like a half hightower, it would fit perfectly.

but i have to ask, how would the cannibal improve aegon’s reputation in a way sunfyre couldn’t? the dragon is an outsider, considered undesirable and a kinslayer (if dragons can be so). it would highlight the slander aegon’s enemies use against him.

when it comes to aegon vs baela, how will it be justified that the cannibal loses against a baby dragon when that’s just his regular diet? it made sense for sunny because he was injured, but i doubt the cannibal will be so damaged by the fight. if the cannibal lives on, then it would be expected that aegon gets his wounds patched and flies to burn the tullys and starks.

sunfyre is *the* symbol for aegon because he’s the best boy, and he is good for aegonoptics because of his resilience in fighting and his loyalty to his rider, crossing hundreds of miles to reunite with him. he also allows aegon to show a softer side by grieving him and refusing to ride another non-sunny dragon. if he just dies and is replaced then we lose a good part of the og story.

let’s make another story then: a golden dragon being burned and melted and twisted into a terrible vengeful thing. the gold is gone and only the bitterness remains. he raises again from the shadows, ready to spill the blood of everyone that went against him. he has nothing else to hold dear, all his softness burned out long ago. he knows his end is close, yet he holds to his crown with all his might, terrorizing the hatchlings that are trapped in his den.

aegon switching the sun, the golden legacy of his house for the cannibal, the black dragon feasting in the rot of his house. he’s the stranger on a dark horse with burning eyes, ready to cleanse king’s landing of sin and demons. prayers and tears can’t stay his wroth, only blood can quench his fire.

[noparadiseinthis]

English is not my first language. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles

When I realize I'm still human

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/fem!Reader

Warnings: Gaz vaguely mentions the kind of violence in his work. Apart from that, just pure cuteness and fluff.

Summary: Gaz comes home at dawn after a mission and finds you asleep on the sofa. The reason surprises him.

"Thanks for the ride, Johnny," Gaz said as he closed the car door, putting one of the backpack straps on his shoulder. "Drive carefully."

Inside the car, Soap rolled his eyes at the show of concern, but with an affectionate smile. "I'm the careful one, kid." And with that, he pulled the car away with one last wink before driving off, causing Gaz to snort in disbelief before entering the building.

The clock on the desk of the doorman who greeted him gave away how late it was, crushing all his hopes of kissing you and eating with you before going to bed. A hot bath would have to suffice, at least he had someone in his bed waiting for him.

It was his first mission since you decided to move in together, and as long as he could see your face and hold your warm body against his to remind him of all the good things that existed beyond the evil he saw and did at work, he could fall asleep with a certain peace.

He climbed the stairs quickly and quietly, always a little tense about using the elevator after returning home. Images of all the chaos, destruction, and violence he had seen kept flashing through his mind, and he swore he would leave it all behind as soon as he walked through that door - or when he turned off the shower - just as he swore he would never let any of it influence his relationship. Outside, he was Sergeant Garrick. For you, he would always be Ky. And Ky wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares that disturbed your sleep.

He smiled when he noticed that the door was locked, even though there was a 24-hour concierge at the residential building. My clever girl, he thought, pulling the keys out of his pocket with a sigh as he prepared to enter the house for the first time in weeks.

What he saw inside, however, was not at all what Kyle had expected. The lights were all off, but seeing in the dark was second nature, and he could make out a silhouette lying on the sofa in the living room. He frowned, his hand instinctively going to his hip, where his holster was until he realized that he knew that form curled up under so many blankets. He sighed in surprise, locking the door again behind him and approaching silently.

His assumption was confirmed when he saw your face peeking out from under the mountain of blankets you always slept under, which brought a smile to his face when he noticed how familiar it looked. He couldn't resist crouching down and raising his hand to gently caress your face. Why on earth were you sleeping there? On that old sofa that was begging to be replaced, where your back would surely ache, and not in the bedroom, in the very comfortable king bed you helped choose? He barely noticed when your touch woke her up.

"Ky?" you asked, rubbing your eyes and wondering if it was another one of your sleep delusions.

"Hi, pretty girl," he said, with a huge smile opening up, his thumb tracing your cheek "What are you doing sleeping here?"

You gave a shy smile, leaning closer to his touch and trying to smell him. If you had been more awake, you would have jumped into his lap and showered him with kisses, but there, at that moment, that sleepy comfort was all the reassurance you needed.

"It didn't feel right," you whispered, "sleeping in bed without you. I couldn't relax without you by my side. So I came here."

Kyle's eyes widened a little, his heart swelling inside his chest. Although he felt guilty knowing that you were hurting yourself because of him, he couldn't help the warmth that took over his body. The one that said he had a home, someone who loved him and was worth fighting for, doing all the things he did.

"God, I love you."

You laughed softly, holding his cold hand against your cheek and leaving a small kiss on his wrist. "I love you too, brave boy."

"But now, it's time for you to sleep in the proper place, young lady." Kyle said as he stood up and put his arms around you, lifting you with covers and all. Instead of the natural instinct to run away, you clung to him and buried your face in his neck, wanting more of your boyfriend's warmth that you'd been denied for the past few weeks.

"Hmm, Ky..." you moaned appreciatively as he carried you effortlessly. "I've missed you.

"I thought about you all the time," he whispered as if it were a secret.

The walk to the bedroom was short, and when he set your body down carefully on the bed, you stubbornly wrapped your arms around his neck and chest as he tried to get up.

"Doll, I'm dirty; I have to shower."

"No, later." you moaned, almost like a petulant child, reinforcing his grip from which he could escape if he wanted to "Stay with me, Kyle.". But he could never deny you anything.

Gaz let his body relax on the bed next to yours, pulling you against him as he had dreamed of for so many lonely nights, and in his sleepy state, you pulled the blankets up to cover him, too, his body much colder than yours.

"Always, but I don't want you sleeping on that sofa anymore, baby. I'll give you a massage in the morning." He whispered against your skin, stroking your back.

"Anything you want, Ky, but I'm the one who's going to give you a massage."

"No, baby, whatever you want. Now go to sleep, I'm going to stay here".

With soft kisses being planted on your face, you fell fast asleep. And with your loving body pressed against his, Kyle soon followed you into the dream world, happy to have remembered how good it was to be human.

(A/n): I love my boy Kyle and he doesn't get enough love. This was my first time writing for COD

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

ike prince zoo to husband AU

- you have three pets at home Yeves(yellow cat), Rio, ans Silvio

- you found Rio first, saving him from the streets, he likes to lay in your lap and cuddle you alot

- then you went to a pet store and bonded with Yeves then a bit later Silvio

- Yeves is often in accidents, falling off of everything, tripping iver things, etc. It's amazing he is still alive

- Silvio and Rio often bark at eachogher and play fight. You do get worried about Rio, bit soon after he trots ived to you and cuddles you. Silvio is a bit of a gaurd dog and protects you, and steals treats when he can get away with it. He also barks and growls at any of your guests and won't let woman (outside of you if you are one) pet him

- at the zoo you take care of alot of differnt animals

- there is the Albino Tiger known as Chalavier, you call him Chev, he dosent really let people hang around him. You're one of the only ones he does, witch is cool, you walk with him, and feed him. He dosent ever seem interested if you ever play with him, so you leave it be. Aparantly thjbgs went bad with the other tiger so they have been seperated

- Clavis is quite the graceful and playful leopard. He likes to jump on you and give you a bunch of kisses and is a bit cuddley. He clearly takes pride in whatever you gift him and is sure to eat it in view of other animals

- Nokoto is also quite the affectionate little animal. Although he is a bit more likely to show that affection in private areas. He tries his best to leave his sent on you. Loves to chase you and play tag

- Luke literally is the most affectionate and vuddley bear here. You tought the other animals were cuddley. When it comes to hibernation, he tries to take you to his cave to hibernate with him. It is dangerous for others to try to free you, but you can make a trade for your freedom

- Leon the Lion. Makes sence for a lion. He is quite the elegant and sweet one, with a beautiful dark Maine. He has never really shown who his favorite keeper is, but sometimes gentley bites your sleeve so you can stay longer

- Jin is a beautiful and elegant Eagle. He often flies over the zoo as the animals aren't going to attack him, and he won't attack them either. He has good manners, but mainly lands on the female employes

- Licht is a quiet and unassuming wolf. He often stays away from his keepers. He is a rescue from another zoo afterall along side of Nokoto. He gets along well with all of the animals surprisingly. He dosent allways eat, but you have been the first one to get him to. You do worry about him and just kinda hangout in hos enclosure sometimes just to let him get used to you

- Sarel is this beautiful big Eatern king snake, he was the first zoo animal witch took a likeing to you outside of Leon maybe. He likes to hang out on your shoulders and let you talk to kids and others about him and his species.

- Gilbert is the other lion this time with Melanism. He is black and quite beautiful really. He is quite playful with you, but is a bit nippy. He is often isolated and not allowed to sotalize with the other animals within the zoo due to a big fight with Chev causing him to lose an eye.

- Keith is another rescue from another zoo. He isn't really allowed to sofalize with the other animals due to being prey. He is another enclosure you do hang out in. Only Licht is allowed to play with him because Licht dosent eat animals he knows, any dead ones given to him. Keith is quite the sweet deer, most of the time. There're times where he does get aggressive and a bit bucky. You don't blame h8m tough and give him space and respect. He does his best to keep you safe while in his enclosure.

- one day you wake up to "hey! I'm hungry- are ya gonna feed us or what?-"

"Heyyy be nice to our human-"

"Whatever- they need to feed me since I'm the only one here who can actually take care of us outside of them getting the food!"

"Please shut up you two. They should get their beauty rest."

- what in the hell is going on????

[bucketspammer4life]

the boxers coaching little mac

Ok, theoratically, if doc were to not be here he would need to be coached by someone else and uhh i forgot, this was very fun to do actually (this turned into a "what if Mac had the boxers as a father/brother figure")

Glass Joe

- has hope in Mac But is also very concerned about everything else, his school life, his health, where the hell his family is.. all that useless shmuck

- has to cover his eyes when Mac gets hit from concern but then acts like nothing happened, he totally doesnt care about this child who he sees as a son and would fight a crocodile for

- his advice is semi-useful but he cant speak in a motivating manner to save his life

- "When i was little, i got my ass kicked all the time, Mac, But with more time and work, i only get my ass kicked sometimes now"

- "was that supposed to be helpful or make me feel concerned about my future"

- outside of the ring, people mostly confuse Joe as a babysitter

- when Mac loses, Joe takes him to get some food to cheer him up, he cant speak in a motivating manner but damn he can comfort a man

- cheers like he saw his least favorite celebrity get cancelled when Mac gets a strong hit

Von Kaiser

- very stern & a bit cold with him and doesnt show affection since he thinks it would "distract him" (he doesnt know how to show affection) but will go out of his way for him

- very strict training schedule with him, if he wants to skip a day he'll ask mac if everything is alright (wow Kaiser's on some school counciler shit)

- to help him after losses, he usually gives Mac some headphones and gives him some space to calm down

- Really good at motivational speaking but terrible at comforting, completely clueless on what to do

- people always assume that Kaiser sees Mac only during training due to how cold he comes off to Mac

Disco Kid

- pretty loose with training, if they do training together he'll turn on some music and cheer him on, doesnt really mind if he wants to train alone or not

- wonderful motivational speaker, also good at comforting too

- people keep confusing them for adopted brothers

- to comfort him after losses, he'll give him a pep talk and it works 70% the time, the last 30% is him just crying harder

King Hippo

- overly concerned for him, if he doesnt want to train he'll just assume the worst and ask if he wants to talk, if he gets hit a little too hard he gasps like your grandma finding out you got a piercing and gets worried for him no matter how much he says its ok

- cant really motivate him well so he justs does a war cry and it works really well, they just communicate in movements & weird sounds sometimes, no better advice than "WHAGGHHHH"

- takes Mac out to get some comfort food to cheer him up after losses

- cooks for Mac to make sure he gets his proteins & eats his veggies, when he found out Mac had some troubles with getting enough nutrition he got to making him some food instantly

- Mac actually knows some basic hippo language from him

- people actually see Hippo as his brother, less like a trainer

Piston Hondo

-cold but tries to show affection since he doesnt wanna come off as too emotionless

- good motivational speaker, horrid comforter

- strict training schedule but a lot of meditation sessions & reading times as well, helping Mac with his education since he doesnt have much time to go to school

- gets some tea with Mac to help him calm down after losses

Bear Hugger

- good at giving advice along with comforting & motivation, the holy trio is complete with him

- they dont train much together, he mostly has ms bear train with him & watches over them to make sure no one gets too hasty

- goes fishing & gathering with Mac sometimes and lets him take out some energy he couldnt take out during matches & training

- goes walking in nature with Mac after losses and lets him punch a few trees

- most of his advice is just "PUNCH EM İN THE EYE!!"

Great Tiger

- training with Mac & teaching him some magic along the side, showing great care for his education since hes pretty concerned how hes gonna do math when he needs to

- uses his clones to demonstrate how to do moves since Mac is a visual learner, including movements, down to how he moves his arm and everything

- doesnt know how to comfort him so he just goes "There there" as hes in pieces

Don Flamenco

- giving Mac life advice knowing damn well his own is in shambles

- starts a crowd chant for Mac to cheer him on during rough matches

- gives him pep talks when he loses matches and chants for him

-not really a brother or a father figure, more like a uncle figure??

Aran Ryan

- making up the most devious cheating strategies specialized for Mac, at first Mac was kinda taken aback but after chugging 25 redbulls and a powerpoint presentation, aran convinced him

- "ok so we're putting needles covered in peanut butter in your gloves since the bastards allergic to nuts, we'll just throw jars of peanut butter at him if that doesnt work"

- "ok??"

- says some truly dumb shit to confuse Mac when hes sad and make him focus less on his loss when matches go bad

- "ya crying?"

- "yeah"

- "i thought your eyes were sweating"

Soda Popinski

- keeps him away from his soda (or does his best since macs a sneaky little boy) he has no clue why Mac is getting stronger and stronger this quickly and just assumes its him eating his veggies

- horrible at giving advice, down to the shitter with it

- "punch him!!"

- "what do you think ive been doing all this time"

- "punch him harder!!"

- horrible at comforting Mac after losses so he just offers him up some books he has lying around or offers to watch a movie with him

Bald Bull

- riles Mac up by going nuts for him in the corner, it helps him win matches, also totally unrelated: mac needs to get anger management

- "GO GET HIM!! BEAT HIM SO HARD HE CHANGES LANGUAGES!!"

- "yeah!!"

- cooks for mac since he doesnt get enough proteins, it started with him saying "dont expect this very often" But after seeing Mac live off pasta he took that statement back very quickly

- first time Mac called him dad he teared up on the spot

Super Macho Man

- both of them train on seperate times so the most he does is make sure he trains for the day

- bad at comforting and celebrating so he just takes him shopping, he won? Shopping, he lost? Shopping

- pretends to not care about him but would iron someones face if they spoke shit about him, thats HIS little punchy boy youre dissing

Mr Sandman

- comes off as cold but cares a lot deep down, he just doesnt know what to say to help him

- gives really detailed advice to mac that always works somehow

- "if you punch him on the forehead while he tries to jab you he'll fall to the ground and struggle for a while and not be able to recover, he'll also get up very slowly if he can since he has iron deficiency"

- "how do you know he has iron deficiency?? Are you his doctor or something??"

- gives some pep talks to him after tough matches, regardless if he won or not

[perfinn]

the heat that drives the light

aemond targaryen x tyrell!oc - part iii

wc: 3.1k

summary: a tourney is held to celebrate aemond and cecily's wedding, and aemond finds himself participating despite his outspoken disdain for tourneys.

cw: period typical ableism, jousting inaccuracies, brief sexual fantasies and sexual references

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

The day following Aemond and Cecily’s wedding boasts a grand tourney. It boasts the attendance of many of the realm’s noble houses, much of them coming from the Reach given their fondness for tourney, and given too that the union celebrated is that of their future wardeness. 

Aemond rises in his bedchambers long before Cecily awakes, lifting the blanket and nodding in satisfaction at the specks of blood that stain the sheets. They have done their duty, and with any luck it will take right away and he will not need to put either of them through this again. He glances to Cecily’s sleeping face. Her hair – still half-braided as it was for the wedding – is a mess around her, and she sleeps with her mouth open ever so slightly. Still, she is beautiful. Even now. He cannot deny that, not a man alive could deny that.

He looks away, huffing softly to himself and standing. While he cannot deny she’s a work of art to look upon, he also cannot let himself be fooled by it. Weaker men are slaves to their desire. Aemond is not. 

He dresses and leaves before she has even stirred, making his way from the Red Keep and toward the tourney grounds. He denies the offer of a litter, but accepts the escort of a gold cloak, knowing his mother will worry if he doesn't. It is not as though he could not protect himself from smallfolk if provoked, but he is not so arrogant as to think he will notice every little pickpocket that scurries the streets. 

He reaches the tourney grounds with no issue, seeing a number of tents pitched bearing the sigils of many great houses. He pauses outside of one tent, gazing up at the insignia of a white tower for a moment. He clenches his jaw, glancing away before moving on and ducking into the tent emblazoned with the Three-Headed Dragon. 

It is empty, of course. He is the only Targaryen to fight today, though he does not wish it so. Someone must. Aegon is no doubt being dragged from some pleasure house, Daeron is too young. And his uncle, along with Rhaenyra and her bastards have not even bothered to come. Aemond does not know if they were even invited, though he cannot say he blames them if they were. He would not go were he offered an invite to any of their weddings. 

Aemond is left to represent his house, represent his half of the marriage. He huffs as a squire ducks into the tent, wide brown eyes meeting the prince. He wears a green and gold shirt, and Aemond clenches his jaw to hold back a sigh. 

Another Tyrell. No doubt another of Cecily's cousins. Another benefit afforded to the Tyrells through this union, he’s sure. What else have they been given in this? How heavily they benefit from this marriage, and what does Aemond get? Perhaps the Greens have gotten security, have gotten Cecily's dowry and the likely promise of support when the issue of succession inevitably arises. But Aemond? What has he gotten? He has gotten nothing from this, nothing but humiliation and shame. 

He glares at the boy as he approaches, flexing his hand before holding it up. He does not need to be dressed in his armour yet, he’s not going to waste his time. “Fetch my grandsire. I wish to speak to him.”

The boy pauses in his footsteps, mouth dropping open. Aemond supposes he’s frightened of him. Or just a fool.

“The Hand of the King, boy,” he snaps. “Lord Otto Hightower. Go.”

The boy nods, bowing clumsily before rushing out of the tent and leaving Aemond alone once again. He takes a seat by the table, fingers flexing as he awaits his grandsire’s presence. He respects him, of course, but he cannot help but want to chew the man out for organising this, and all but forcing him to participate. 

(Though in truth Otto did not force him, but it’s his own wedding tourney, what kind of man would not participate in his own celebration? To let other men fight for his own wife would be all but declaring himself a weakling and a cuckold.)

Otto arrives soon after, and Aemond stands to greet him with a scowl, an all too comfortable expression. “Grandsire,” he says before the man can say anything. “This tourney is a farce.”

“I am glad you think so,” says Lord Otto, amusement on his face. “And yet you participate?”

“Well, I must, mustn’t I? But I should not have to, this should not be happening. She is blind, grandsire. She cannot even watch the proceedings.”

“No, but she is from the Reach. Her house and their banners would not be pleased if we stole from them an opportunity to show their support for her by way of their favourite tradition.”

Aemond’s jaw clenches for he knows his words are true. “Was her opinion on the matter considered?”

“We did not ask her. Her father agreed.”

Aemond laughs bitterly. At least they are equal in that regard. It is a sobering reminder that this marriage is not theirs but rather their parents’. Their names are joined but not their souls. 

Otto tilts his head at his grandson. “There was no obligation for you to participate,” he reminds him. “I am well aware of your disdain for tourney. I would not have asked this of you.”

“That is not what this is about. It is a humiliation, like this marriage is.”

Otto sighs, approaching the tense prince. “This is what must be done to secure the safety of our house, Aemond. We must all make sacrifices, and this is yours. Marrying a comely, clever young woman is not exactly the heaviest of sacrifices.”

Comely, he knows. She is beautiful, and for prayers to the old gods and the new he cannot get her smiling face out of his head. Clever, he doubts. She has not spoken anything particularly shrewd or insightful to him yet. 

(He ignores the voice that tells him he has not given her the chance to. If she were truly clever, she would have shown it without needing to be asked.)

“Do you wish to withdraw from the joust?”

“No!” Aemond snaps, not even making the Hand flinch. “I will not add to my growing pile of humiliations. I will fight today. And I will win.”

Otto chuckles dryly. “Do so with honour,” he reminds. “The Reach likes chivalry. They will like you better if you show it.”

Aemond says no more, watching Otto duck out of the tent and considering his words a moment. He is right, of course. He does need the Reach to like him, whether he wishes it or not. Aemond was not planning to fight without honour, but he decides then that he will be chivalrous. Whatever that fucking means. 

Some hours later Aemonds rides out onto the tourney ground on a horse the colour of Arbour gold, thankful for his helmet so that the crowds cannot see his frown. He turns his eyes to the king’s box, urging the horse toward it. He has but little care for the horse beneath him as anything more than a vessel, though he knows men of the Reach treat their horses like an extension of themselves. 

He cannot imagine troubling himself with such a fickle beast when he has a dragon. This farce would certainly be over faster were he able to ride in on Vhagar.

He spots Cecily easily in the box, seated between his mother and Flora. She wears a structured blue gown draped and lined with pearls, and her dark hair is pulled back and similarly secured with a winding string of pearls. 

When Aemond approaches and lifts the visor of his helmet, Flora gently coaxes her to stand, and Aemond can see the upset and concern on Cecily’s face as she approaches the balcony with a ring of white flowers clutched in her hands. “Lord husband?” She calls over the balcony, leaning forward as though she might be able to see him.

“Yes, my lady,” he calls back, trying to force the annoyance out of his voice. Why else would Flora have guided her to him? “I hoped I might be so lucky as to earn my wife’s favour.”

He wonders if the words sound as ridiculous to Cecily as they do to him. He lifts his lance to rest against the balcony, sparing Cecily of the need of trying to throw it. She gently grabs the end of it, carefully lacing the ring of flowers over it and letting it fall down toward Aemond. 

“Fight well,” she calls to him, offering him a smile. “Be careful.”

He hums, though he knows she can’t hear it at this distance. His gaze shifts to Flora, who grants him an apologetic smile. 

“Many apologies, my prince!” She calls. “I have promised my favour to my brother, Ser Leo. You understand, of course.”

Aemond supposes he does. He would not accept her favour regardless. Flora is not his wife, as much as he might prefer it.

Flora offers him a big smile, leaning forward. “He is set to join the Kingsguard! Is that not exciting?”

She certainly seems excited enough, though Aemond cannot much see why. He glances back to Cecily, who is smiling more now and seems at ease with the idea. Ah, he realises. Flora is naive not to notice what he and, evidently, Cecily have. Promising Ser Leo to the Kingsguard removes him from the line of succession to Highgarden. He is a threat to Cecily’s ascension, but swearing the white will have him neutralised. A fine enough idea on Lord Martyn’s part–

“‘Twas Cecily’s idea!” Flora declares proudly. 

Aemond fails to hide the surprise on his face when he turns his eyes to Cecily. Despite himself, he finds himself inching closer to the willingness to admit she is clever indeed. 

“Good luck, lord husband,” Cecily says, all but dismissing him.

Aemond nods, lowering his visor and riding off. He hopes this is over with soon. Were he weaker, he’d throw it and knock himself out of the running in the first round, but this is his wedding. And they’re already underestimating him, he knows it. They think because of his halved vision he will be weak, incapable of the joust. They are wrong.

He will prove them wrong and crown his wife the queen of love and beauty in the process. 

And prove them wrong he does, reaching the final joist with little trouble. His last opponent is Leo Tyrell himself, with Flora’s favour still settled on his lance. His face is uncovered so that he might shoot his handsome smiles toward the crowd, and Aemond rolls his eye. There is not yet a Tyrell he’s met that he can stand. Even Flora has begun to bother him. Weak, naive, narcissists that he is now bound to by marriage. 

At least he can knock one from his horse now. 

He spares a glance toward the stands to see his wife, who has Flora whispering into her ear and a worried expression on her face. No doubt Flora is commentating the entire event for her, though she does not seem to be enjoying the proceedings. Does she worry for him, or for her cousin? 

He huffs, putting her out of his mind and instead waiting for the bell to ring so he might knock Leo off his horse, and hopefully knock some sense into him in the process. 

The bell rings, and Aemond urges his horse forward, lance poised for Leo’s shield. He grits his teeth as he goes forward, but instead of knocking his opponent from his mount, Leo’s lance hits his shield. He feels every bone in his body rattle upon impact, but he manages to keep his seat, riding past Leo and taking a deep breath in to settle the rattling in his skull. 

They’re doubting you, Aemond, he says to himself. Prove them wrong.

When he surges forward again, he refuses to be humiliated. This time the lance strikes Leo, sending the young knight toppling off the back of his speckled mare. Aemond lets out a shout, allowing himself to smile since he knows no one can see it. 

But by the time he returns to Leo and lifts his visor his face is trained back into his practised neutrality. Leo stands to meet him, smiling jovially as he bows his head to Aemond. 

“Well done, good-cousin!” says Leo, offering a hand to Aemond. Aemond hesitates, but joins his hand with Leo’s in his best attempt at chivalry. Good-cousin. Gods, he despises that. Still, Leo does not seem the least bit bothered by his loss. Aemond cannot find it in himself to understand how that is– but perhaps when one has not been doubted all his life he does not fear the threat of second place. 

“You were a worthy opponent, Ser Leo,” Aemond says. It sounds wrong on his tongue, but he hears his grandsire’s voice echo in his head. The Reach will like him better if he’s chivalrous. This is as good as they’ll get. 

He leads his horse away and takes a crown of yellow and white roses from his squire. He turns it over in his hand slowly before he rides toward the box. There is no other choice in his mind, and he does not quite realise he never even considered another woman. 

Though he will tell himself he wishes he were wed to Flora, his gaze finds only Cecily. He calls out to her, “Lady Cecily!”

She rises, and Flora gently guides her to the small stairway that leads down to the grounds so that she might be face to face with him. He does not quite realise it, but he is smiling as she greets him. 

“My lady,” he greets, reaching out to her with the crown in his hands. “Hold up your hands?”

She does so with some hesitation, a conflicted smile on her face. He places the crown in her hands and gently guides it onto her head. “The realm may never see a queen of love and beauty more deserving of the title.”

“Thank you, lord husband,” she says, gently adjusting the crown so it sits securely over her dark hair. “It is an honour.”

“The honour is mine,” he tells her, and though he can scarcely believe this, he means it.

Once Aemond is back in his tent and freed of his armour, he is about ready to dismiss his new squire for the day when a familiar voice calls inside the tent. 

“May I come in?” says Lady Cecily, her silhouette illuminated against the closed flap of the entryway. 

Aemond nods to the squire and he rushes to the entrance, opening it for Cecily. The boy greets her politely and gently leads her in by the arm. She looks radiant this close, this intimate. Before, the eyes of the realm shrouded them in their shadow, now it is just them and the squire that Cecily is speaking gently to. 

“Thank you, sweet cousin,” she says to the boy, giving him a warm smile. “You did very well today. I am most proud. Leave us for a moment?”

The squire rushes from the tent, and Aemond and Cecily are alone again, as they had been last night. Suddenly Aemond feels the thorny vines of insecurity wrap around his ribcage. No one is expecting them to lie together, not here so close to other ears. But part of Aemond fears that is why she is here. 

Cecily stands before him in silence for a moment, hands clasped together as she picks at her nails. 

“You need not have fought today,” she says after a long bout of silence. “I know this is not an opinion shared by any of my peers but I find tourney to be a dangerous and ridiculous pastime. Perhaps it is because I cannot see it, but I–” 

She stops, taking a steadying breath and lifting her head, as though to look right at him. “It is a brazen display of pride, but it goeth before the fall.” Aemond fails to hide the surprise on his face. She would quote the Seven-pointed star at him? “You do not need to prove your bravery to me, lord husband.”

Aemond steps forward, placing one hand over both of hers, putting a stop to her fidgeting. “I did not fight today to prove anything to you or myself. This is your wedding tourney as much as it is mine. I could not let it pass with some other woman named the queen of love and beauty. Nor could I allow another man to give you the title.” He glances down at her hands and guides one of them to the lace on the cuff of her sleeve. He trails a gloved thumb over her nail beds, wanting to tell her off but instead only speaking gently to her. “Wear your embroidery. Fidgeting with it is not ladylike but it suits you far better than harming yourself.”

Cecily’s lips part in surprise as she takes in Aemond’s words, a soft ‘oh’ escaping her. “I see,” she says, beginning to play with the lace on her sleeve. “Well… that is very kind of you. Thank you.”

Aemond nods, hand still touching hers. He longs once more for the intoxicating heat of her bare skin touching his, cheeks heating at the memory of last night. He glances down at her lips, never more thankful that she cannot see it. Though he cannot delude himself into thinking she has not heard the rattling breath that escapes him. 

I am not a slave to my desire, he reminds himself. But in doing so, he can no longer deny that he desires her. He cannot help it, to desire a woman so beautiful and smart so carnally. But he will not fall victim to his urges. That will make him no better than his brother. He clears his throat, dropping his hand and settling it behind his back, clasped with the other. 

“If that is all, Lady Cecily,” he says, seeming to break her from her own reverie. “I will see you tonight.”

Cecily steps back and nods, smoothing her hands over her dress. “Yes, of course,” she says, voice softer than usual. She calls gently for her cousin, and Aemond watches as the boy leads her out. A traitorous image forces its way into Aemond’s head, of Cecily on her knees taking him from behind. He inhales sharply, looking away and clenching his fists. 

Damn it.

part iv

[seokmthw]

shining excalibur | shen ricky

⇢ pairing: ricky x reader

⇢ warnings: royalty au, death, blood, mentions of bombing, angst, king!ricky, king/queen!reader

⇢ word count: 1.3k

⇢ note: in my abc headcannons for ricky i said that a royalty concept would fit him really well, so here's this! maybe i'll expand on this overall idea someday, who knows. also, i used quanrui instead of ricky because it sounds more fancy to me!

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"i won't let you go!"

the despair in your voice was hard to miss. you'd been begging him for what felt like hours not to leave the safety of your castle — he couldn't risk his life. you couldn't rule the kingdom without him. you couldn't bear the thought of him going out to war and never returning.

he sighed heavily, walking from his place near your chamber doors over to stand directly in front of you, hands coming up to delicately cup your cheeks and catch the new tears that had begun to fall, eyes searching your face in hopes you'd understand, but he knew he wouldn't get what he wanted. you grabbed his wrists, clutching them tightly in your hands, practically begging, "please don't leave me."

"y/n," he started, "i'm the king, you know i have to fight for our people. it'd make me look like a coward if i didn't and let others die for me instead." you choked on a sob that had been threatening to rip itself from your throat and collapsed into his chest, tears staining the fabric of his undershirt. he held you close, tears pricking the corners of his eyes now at the realization that this is what the war had come to.

he didn't want to leave, either.

"i'll do everything i can to make sure i come back to you," quanrui’s words were soft, his lips finding their home on the crown of your head. he closed his eyes, breathing in your scent and relishing in the last moments he had with you in his arms, "just promise me you'll keep the kingdom in order while i'm gone."

you nodded, not daring utter a single word as you balled your fists up behind his back. you let out a broken cry, body shivering as the sobs overtook you, and you felt your legs begin to wobble. this was beyond unfair. you shouldn't have to lose him because your opposing kingdom had an unresolved rivalry with your own. you shouldn't have to do this alone.

quanrui began to pull away, catching your lips in a desperate kiss, as if you make sure you knew how deep his love for you ran. you sniffled after it broke, uttering a soft, "i love you."

"i love you more, y/n"

quanrui began to dress himself in his suit of armor, sheathing his sword at his hip and settling his crown down on the thick, wooden nightstand beside your bed. he was almost unrecognizable as king, had it not been for the rich, royal blue arm covers that distinguished him from the rest of your army.

he hardly had the chance to kiss you for the last time. a deep, indistinguishable rumble sounded from the grounds outside and the screams of many of your townspeople were carrying through the wind. quanrui’s eyes grew wide, panic evident in his voice as he said, "we need to get you suited up."

"what? why?" you asked, bewilderment contorting the features of your face as he frantically dug through his chest to find your protective gear. he helped you get into it, securing it in all the right places, though the tremble of his hands was visible to you, "they're here."

a loud banging against your door was able to be heard, the person on the other side not bothering to wait for an answer as he barged in, making himself known. quanrui’s second in command, taerae, was standing in the doorway, the look on his face unable to read before he blurted, "king quanrui, they're bombing the villages." you felt your heart sink into the pit of your stomach, a deep sadness instantly filling your body.

quanrui’s face grew hard, his brows furrowed and his nostrils flaring out in anger, "we need to get y/n out of here," his voice was firm, "now."

quanrui grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as taerae guided you down the hallway, the maids and butlers as well as visitors from other countries flocking to escape the castle as well. the halls were cramped with bodies, everyone's shrieks mingling with one another in the air, and you felt yourself begin to shut down.

quanrui glanced over his shoulder at you, motioning for taerae to take a detour down the hallway many people were passing. your vision was blurred with tears and it was difficult to know where you were going, but you trusted quanrui and taerae would be able to get you out of there unscathed.

before you knew it, the crisp, night air was flooding your nostrils, but the stench of gunpowder and lead was unmistakable. the village was engulfed in flames, bodies were laying limp in the grass, there was fighting and bloodshed in the fields. you knew the opposing kingdom was capable of terrible things, but you didn't think they'd blow up and entire village of civilians and children. your voice was shaky as you said, “our people.”

quanrui turned you away from the sight, instead having you focus on him, "listen, we're gonna be alright. i will make sure you're able to get out of here without a single scratch, okay? i just need you to-"

a sickening crack was able to be heard from overhead, and upon looking up, you were greeted with the sight of a cannonball making a new home in the side of the castle. debris was falling at a rapid pace, and without thinking, quanrui grabbed ahold of your wrist and began running forward, shielding your body with his own from any of the stone that threatened to hit you.

taerae was following close behind, his sword in hand as he kept a lookout for anyone who dared try to bring harm to you or quanrui, but he was too late. the king of the opposing kingdom greeted you with his own sword, piercing the flesh of your belly with the blade. you peered down in horror, your own blood soaking your hands and dripping down the dazzling silver.

quanrui completely halted, far too stunned to speak. instead, king hanbin spoke, venom laced in his words as he growled, "this is what you get for not playing by my rules," he shoved his sword deeper, a pained grunt escaping your lips, "next time, i'd advise you listen to me."

with that, he yanked his sword away from your body, a sadistic grin pulling the corners of mouth upward at the sight of his revenge against your king. he turned his back and began walking away, not bothering to look at you as you fell to your knees into the damp grass.

quanrui was quick to be at your side, pulling away the fabric from your wound to get a better look at the damage king hanbin had just caused. he was visibly sobbing, begging taerae to find something to create a makeshift tourniquet to try and stop the bleeding, but it was far too late. your vision was fading, tears falling down onto your cheeks once more.

you reached up and touched quanrui’s face, your blood leaving streaky fingerprints in their wake. you smiled sadly, silencing him when he tried to say something. instead, you spoke, your voice surprisingly calm, "i love you, my king."

your consciousness slipped away from you, hand falling heavily to your side, head beginning to lull around as quanrui clung to you, a wail erupting from his body as your soul slipped away. he pushed your hair away from your face, placing a gentle kiss in your forehead, whispering, "i'll come find you in the afterlife." anger took over now, and he commanded taerae to band your strongest soldiers together to take care of king hanbin once and for all.

if he didn't die from avenging you, he surely would from the grief he felt in his heart.

[salty-lemon-shark-from-the-sea]

Maya and the Three + (Reader) Incorrect quotes

Gran Brujo: My knee just cracked so loudly that I half expect it to glow in the dark tonight.

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Chimi: Any idiot would know that

Rico: I knew it!

Chimi: See?

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Rico: I’ve got a weapon, and I’m… admittedly VERY afraid to use it!

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(Reader): Are you mad?

Acat: No.

(Reader): So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

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Zatz: Due to personal reasons, I will be sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Maya: Did (Reader) say ‘I love you’ and you said ‘Thanks’?

Zatz: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL—

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(Reader): Okay, I'm going to get the wedding cake.

Chimi: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

(Reader): …

(Reader): You mean ring bearER, right?

Chimi: …

(Reader): Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

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Rico: Hey, Zatz? Can I get some dating advice?

Zatz: Just because I’m with (Reader) doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

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(Reader) sweating: Bone, Skull, there’s something I need to ask you-

Skull: Finally! You’re proposing!

(Reader): How’d you know?

Bone: (Reader), you’ve dropped the rings five times during dinner.

Skull: I even picked it up once.

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(Reader): That was so hot, Acat.

Acat: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenerate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

(Reader): I’m so in love with you.

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Cipactli: Hey, Maya, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?

Maya: Yeah,

Cipactli: And you, (Reader)?

(Reader): Umm… yes?

Cipactli: Great! Because I’m not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!

(Reader): Did she just-

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Chimi: Is this your plan B?

Maya: Technically, this is plan P.

Rico: Plan P? Is there a plan M?

Maya: Yes, but I marry Zatz in plan M.

Zatz: I like plan M.

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(Reader): It’s called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli.

Hura and Can: We know what we saw.

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Chivo: When I said bring me something back from the beach, I meant like a conch shell!

Vucub: *holding a seagull* Please say that next time!

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Maya: Things will get better!

The Others:

Maya: Okay, maybe they won’t

Maya: But they will be terrible in a new and interesting ways!

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(Reader): I love you.

Xtabay: I love me too.

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Lady Micte: How did you break your leg?

Maya: Do you see those porch stairs?

Lady Micte: Yes.

Maya: I didn’t

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(Reader): Do you know the ABCs of first aid?

Picchu: A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad.

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Vucub: I lost my fish, can you help me find it?

Chivo, cooking the fish: What? I couldn’t hear you, speak up.

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Zatz: My crush isn’t picking up on my hints.

Camazotz: What hints have you given them?

Zatz: We’ll, I think about them a lot.

Zatz: And sometimes I even think about talking to them.

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Lady Micte to Lord Mictlan: You smell of sweat and loss.

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Rico: I wasn't that drunk,

Chimi: You colored my face with a highlighter because you said I was important.

Rico: BEACAUSE YOU ARE!

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(Reader): You really believe in Lord Mictlan?

Lady Micte: Luckily, he believes in himself enough for the both of us.

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Xtabay: Sorry I can’t be emotionally vulnerable with you it’d ruin the mystery.

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King Teca: You can answer almost anything with “Not since the accident”

Queen Teca: Actually, you can’t.

King Teca: Not since the accident.

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Zatz, to Maya: You wanna fight? All right, let’s take this outside. The stars are so bright tonight and the moon looks so nice. Here, hold my hand—

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