lol
have my WOLS mutant babies
Shes married to Aymeric and they are both Estinien consorts because dragon things
so poly relationship
which scares my friends x3
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I just think that sometimes Alfonce and Estinien choose where to train based on where Aymeric is likely to see it because flustering him is very funny
Featuring Lucia who is done with Aymeric's shit as she has to put up with him pining over Alfonce (and Alfonce pining over him) for most up to most of the way through the dragonsong war before either of them used their braincells
This is based on a comment Estinien makes at the end of one of my lil fics I am yet to post
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The mercenary, the mage and the cursed prince
Why actually write the thing when you can pose the thing? :D
I started a new fic, another Fairytale AU, this time inspired by Beauty and the Beast. If that sounds like your thing you can read it over on AO3 - link in notes.
A Land Long Dead
Three hundred years ago, King Thordan and his Knights Twelve laid low the last of the Great Wyrms and doomed the world to darkness. The land withered, magic forsook man, and the very balance of life and death was rewritten.
Moth is the first mage to be born in centuries, a thaumaturge whose blood is worth more than gold. Wyrmblood is a mercenary bearing a curse of his own, sworn to her side. When the temptation of power and freedom leads Moth astray, they are both pulled into an adventure beyond their ken: a tale yet written, of good and evil, of might and magic, and a cursed prince who may be the key to restoring the world that was lost.
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Vitrum 5/7 [Read on Ao3]
Rated E for Explicit*
He draws the tormented breast through the opened shirt and bends to it with his wicked tongue. It laves circle after circle to turn her admonishments into sobs, her free hand allowed to seek desperate purchase in his hair.
The door opens.
They freeze.
Estinien manages a tray in one hand while the other curls about the doorknob. It’s loaded down with a teapot, cups, tiny pitchers for cream, a sugar bowl and a mound of pastries aromatic with chocolate and butter. He stares at them a long moment, one eyebrow rising higher and higher till it disappears beneath his fall of silver-white hair.
He stabilizes the tray with his other hand and kicks the door closed. "Last night, you said she was to rest as long as she was able, without interruption."
“E-estinien.” Aymeric’s tongue darts out over his lips. “...You left, I thought.”
“To attend to certain matters, I never said I wasn’t returning.”
Aymeric gives an unlordlike snort. "Now you see why I ask for a note, so I may know the difference."
The other man shrugs before striding over to the chaise lounge and placing the tray upon the small table before it. He drops onto the rose silk cushions and begins pouring himself a cup.
"Do you mind?" Aymeric asks.
Estinien bites a corner off a pastry and takes a gulp of hot black tea. "No, and clearly you don't either."
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...no, Google, that's not what I want to search for.
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