#adding the princess bride one here too

[rocktheholygrail]

#the hunger games #10 things i hate about you #ella enchanted #pride and prejudice #hi hugh :) #hugh dancy #adding the princess bride one here too #the princess bride

[saintobio]

ACT I. THE LADY

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), slight mentions of gore

♱ notes. 6.5k wc, unedited. again, for anyone who missed my small announcement, the ‘juliet’ from my megumi r+j fic has a name here for narration purposes. she remains as you or yn in the original fic tho :) feedback would be highly appreciated!

series masterlist ♱ act two.

“I humbly beg your pardon, Your Imperial Highness. The lady declines any audience at this time.”

Throughout his princely life, Satoru had never before faced rejection from any of his subjects, let alone one of his own citizens. No one ever dared to deny the Crown Prince as they were aware of the consequences of offending a member of the imperial family, let alone the future Emperor of Caelum. 

So, how could this mere daughter of a duke summon the courage to refuse his audience? 

It was baffling to him. Were you not the one who had written him a lovestruck letter requesting a meeting? As one of the eligible brides for the Crown Prince and a strong contender for the position of Crown Princess, it was only natural for you to vie for his affection and secure your spot on the imperial throne. You had it all; the status, the power, the wit. You had quite the face, too. This would have been an opportune moment for you to ensnare his favor and win him over. Yet, what reason could you possibly have now to suddenly decline his audience?

“On what grounds did she refuse?” Satoru maintained a stern demeanor as he stood beside his white horse, scrutinizing the servant from the De Roma estate who trembled before the prince. His blue velvet cloak and imperial insignia added to the overall intimidation of his presence. 

The maid, mindful of the perils that may befall her for the actions of her master, spake with evident apprehension. “The lady offered no explanation, Your Highness. She simply wishes to remain in her chamber.”

Needless to say, he felt a mixture of amusement and intrigue at this situation. The same noble lady who had previously been forward in her advances and infatuation towards him was now avoiding an opportunity to get acquainted? And to think, he had believed he was doing you a favor by granting you a chance to spend time with him this noontide. 

“Very well.” The prince gazed down at the servant with a stern expression, raking his slender fingers through his arctic white hair before mounting his war horse. “Remind the lady that there are consequences for denying the rights of the imperial family. Each slight she casts is an arrow to her neck. Let her know that there shall not be another chance such as this.”

He sensed the maid’s fear after she offered him a curtsy, yet he could not fathom how she remained steadfast in her refusal to grant him access to your drawing room despite his clearly spoken warning. She was guarding the entrance to the estate as though she would face greater consequences for letting the crown prince in than for keeping him out. Were you truly so stringent in maintaining your distance from him?

So be it. If that was your game, then let it be played. In fact, you might be trying to seem hard-to-get after the stunts you had pulled at the hunting expedition two weeks hence. If his memory served him right, you were the one who sabotaged Lady Anastasia’s crossbow and led her in her near-fatal experience. You see, you might have gotten away with it, but Satoru was a witness to your deliberate crime. He had seen you tampering with Lady Anastasia’s weapon, replacing her regular bolts with ones laced with fast-acting poison, which left the poor lady paralyzed in the middle of a dangerous hunt. Had it not been for Satoru, Lady de Florentine would have likely been mauled by a wild boar. 

Yet, his intervention only seemed to stoke your ire even more. Your jealousy after seeing him save Anastasia’s life only made you see red, almost revealing yourself the true perpetrator for the obvious expressions you had displayed. Still, he chose to remain silent about your malicious actions, pretending to be oblivious to your cunning ways and dismissing any suspicions of foul play in the incident. In a way, Satoru had saved your life more than you realized. Not only that, he had also safeguarded your reputation and standing in high society without your knowledge, as he understood that your animosity towards Lady Anastasia only stemmed from the way he had interacted with her, speaking in close proximity and kissing her hand prior to the hunting game.  

Ha! What a devious little viper you were. What a brazenly proud woman. By declining to meet the Crown Prince, you had only ironically succeeded in piquing his interest even more.  

“Is everything in order, Your Highness?” It was his close friend and personal knight, Suguru, who snapped him out of his reverie as they rode their horses back toward the capital. Three more of the prince’s knights trailed behind them. Suguru’s question hinted at concern for the prince’s sanity, given that he had been observed laughing to himself despite the insult he had faced just half an hour ago.

“It is rather amusing, is it not?” Satoru pondered, his hands firmly gripping the reins as he guided his horse along the uneven path. “Lady Y/N might seem out of her wits, but she is astute. I see through her tactics. She obviously desires my attention, which is why she is behaving this way.”

The long-haired knight chuckled with unease. “I fear that may not be her intention.”

The notion appeared absurd to him. “Not her intention? Grant her but a moment, and she shall trail after me once more like a shadow. This is a blessing, if anything. I am now spared the need to endure that lady’s temperament during formal events.”

Did you realize? Despite numerous instances where Satoru overlooked your transgressions, if you were to provoke his ire, he could surely publicly enumerate each offense. The stained dress incident involving Lady Serena? Your handiwork. The scandalous rumors regarding Lady Franchetta? Also your doing. Not to mention your mistreatment of maids and commoners out of mere boredom. Your actions would have easily rendered you an unsuitable candidate as the Crown Prince’s bride, yet he remained silent and never reported such occurrences to his father, the emperor. More than that, he should be relieved that you had chosen to avoid him and spared him further entanglements with you.

However, Satoru’s words contradicted his own sentiments, and he refused to acknowledge his hypocrisy. Although he claimed satisfaction with your decision to keep your distance, why did thoughts of you arise foremost when he passed by a jewel shop that showcased its newest collections? He and his men were traversing the city square when his sky blue eyes caught sight of a necklace with a large, deep-red garnet as its centerpiece, surrounded by intricate gold filigrees, and a single teardrop-shaped pearl dangling at the bottom. The overall design was bold and commanding, yet undeniably elegant. A befitting accessory for Caelum’s next crown princess.

“Would you care to inspect the jewel shop, my lord?” proposed one of his knights. “That necklace could serve as a splendid gift for Lady Serena, who is soon to celebrate her birthday banquet.”

The prince saw his reflection in the shop’s window, his white steed poised gracefully while he gazed at the jewelry on display. A smirk unanticipatedly graced his lips as he envisioned a particular scenario in his head. “Indeed.” 

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Milena was cinching your corset when your father abruptly entered your chamber, his visage bearing a questioning mien as his footsteps loudened each second. You already anticipated the nature of his visit, for nothing else would prompt such urgency unless it pertained to your reputation. In retrospect, you remembered him having knowledge of your misdeeds against the other debutantes currying favor with the crown prince, and he was well aware of the details of your crafty schemes and all the deliberate sabotage you had orchestrated. And although your father often covered for you out of paternal pride, he still chastised you for your actions in private. The latter assuredly was the purpose of his visit now.

Well, dear father, your daughter is no longer the same. 

“Maid,” commanded the duke, “Leave us for a while.” 

Milena immediately bowed at your father. “Yes, Your Grace—”

“No, Milena. You will not take a single step out of this chamber.” Your order somehow surprised the both of them as though you had never sounded so authoritative before, like you had the imperial power and position to be issuing commands greater than your father’s. Ah, right. You were not an empress anymore. Or yet. None of these people were your subjects, and living in the past would really take some time getting used to. In an effort to conceal your years of imperial presence, you looked at your father with a gaze that suggested naivety. “What is the matter, father?”

Duke de Roma appeared visibly strained by his youngest child. “Y/N, is it true that you declined a visit from Crown Prince Satoru?”

You felt the urge to scoff, but opted against it. “Rejection is an understatement, Your Grace. My interest in His Highness has simply waned.” 

“So soon?” The elderly man was perplexed by your assertion, considering your reputation as a notorious obsessive lover of the prince. You were perceived by all as the erratic woman who would engage in conflict with any rival who dared to court his affections. “What sudden change prompts you to speak ill of him? Were you not striving to win his favor?"

Yes, but that was before. That was the version of yourself who sacrificed everything for someone incapable of reciprocating the love you sought. Things have altered now, and you recognized it was wiser not to pursue Satoru after knowing and personally experiencing the peril it posed to both yourself and the empire. He would only seek to exploit your family’s military influence to stage a coup against his parents, beguile you with his false affections, and make use of you until you were no longer serving him any purpose. You refused to be complicit in his ambitions any longer. Not in this life, no. 

“Rather,” you began with a voice of confidence, “I would choose being in a convent than to wed a man like His Highness.” 

Your father nearly fainted from your words. “By Saint Peter’s keys! I cannot understand the youth of today. Tell me, is there another suitor who has captured your interest? Have you found another man more noble than a prince?” 

With a smile, you looked at yourself in the mirror and prepared for the day ahead. “No, Father. On the contrary, I seek a life of solitude. If I could remain unwed for the entirety of my days, I would gladly embrace it.” 

This, you believed, was the surest way to distance yourself from trouble and seek redemption for your past transgressions. A life without Crown Prince Satoru was the road to attaining highest virtue. Your love for him was the reason you had committed such sins in the past, so the best thing to do in this life was to steer yourself clear from his path at all cost. Otherwise, the thought of facing the piercing gaze of Archangel Raphael again was too daunting to bear.

“What folly is this?” Duke de Roma questioned your words incredulously. “Did you not aspire to become the most powerful lady in the empire? Pursuing the Crown Prince is the path to becoming an empress. Cease this nonsensical talk and continue your efforts to win his favor!”

Once he departed, you were left alone in your chamber, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. You were tempted to let out a groan of exasperation, but with Milena present, you had to maintain your composure. It was crucial for her to witness your changed mindset. Gone was the vicious lady she had served in her previous life. Though you could not offer a direct apology for the role you played in her demise before, you were determined to ensure her comfort and well-being in this new life.

As for your father, you were uncertain what to do with him yet. He was coming from a place of concern, knowing that your decision to enter a convent would ultimately make his investments futile. He had invested heavily in your upbringing, providing you with every luxury, the finest education, and the resources necessary to secure a prominent place in high society. His aspirations for you to become an empress were not solely driven by paternal pride, but also by the anticipation of reaping the rewards of his investment. Losing such an asset would undoubtedly be a significant blow to his plans and ambitions. Yet, he had no single idea what suffering you had actually endured in your past life after becoming Satoru’s wife for 10 agonizing years. 

Well, in that case, you had an alternative plan—one that promised to secure the De Roma family’s status and elevate its wealth to unreachable heights without necessitating your ascent to the imperial throne.

“Milena,” you said, walking towards your window, “Prepare the carriage. We have somewhere to be.” 

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“Fifty celestas?!” Milena questioned in disbelief, her hooded cloak framing her face as she confronted the artist before you. Today, both of you dressed down, adopting a guise that would allow you to blend seamlessly with the throng of commoners in the outskirts of the capital. “Signor, are you not asking for an exorbitant sum? You are exploiting My Lady merely because she is the daughter of Duke de Roma.”

It was a mistake bringing Milena with you, but it also served as a good signifier that the artist, Giancarlo di Firenze, was still operating in an era where his talent and skill as a sculptor had yet to be recognized. In the eyes of others, he was a struggling artist whose work warranted no more than a few trinkets. However, you possessed the advantage of foresight, bestowed upon you by your gift of clairvoyance (or in layman’s terms, a cheat sheet into the future due to your regression). You knew that Maestro Giancarlo’s sculptures would eventually gain widespread acclaim, particularly after they were displayed at the Veneran Museum, and he would be the most sought after artist in the continent with pieces worth thousands. Even your then-husband, the emperor himself, commissioned him for the notable Star Crossed Lovers sculpture for the ten year death anniversary of the prince and princess of the Astheryn and Caelum Empires. The 50 celestas Signor Giancarlo demanded now paled in comparison to the immense resale value his works would command in a decade’s time. This would be one of your best investments as a mere lady with no imperial wealth. 

“Fifty celestas for this Apollo and Daphne sculpture seems a fair price,” you mused, scrutinizing each exquisite detail of the remarkable artwork. The sculpture was truly a masterpiece and very much deserving of admiration, which was why in your past life, it was highly coveted by The Venera for its sheer magnificence. However, you refrained from showering the Signor with excessive praise. To do so would only awaken him to the true value of his creations, and he could potentially inflate his prices beyond your budget. Thus, you maintained an air of indifference as you regarded the middle-aged sculptor. “It would make a suitable addition to our garden,” you casually added. “I shall purchase it.”

“My Lady!” protested Milena, but you silenced her with a gesture.

“In addition, I would like to acquire the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa and a selection of your cherubic sculptures,” you continued, disregarding Milena’s objections and the delighted expression on Maestro Giancarlo's face. “Pray, how much would the entire collection amount to?”

It was as if he had stumbled upon a treasure trove. The Signor’s eyes glistened with tears of joy as he responded to you. “Lady de Roma! What a blessing you have bestowed upon me,” he exclaimed, leaving you sympathetic towards his years of unacknowledged artistry. “The collection would fetch two-hundred celestas.”

Your maid, filled with concern, cried out in protest. “Preposterous! This is a swindle!”

Again, 200 celestas was a trifling sum compared to its prospective worth. Moreover, it was a price that would not significantly dent your finances as a noble lady. However, if you acquiesced to his initial offer without negotiation, he might infer that you would readily purchase any of his other works at its highest prices.

It was a simple game of chess, and he was merely one of your pawns.

“A hundred and fifty celestas,” you countered, maintaining a steely gaze on Maestro Giancarlo as you made your bargain. “Take it or leave it.”

The man voiced his objection, nonetheless. “But My Lady, I have dedicated weeks to crafting each piece.”

Being ten steps ahead, you already anticipated his response, so you offered a compromise. “Yes, yet two hundred for a handful of pieces seems excessive. I will increase it to a hundred and seventy-five. Do we have an accord?”

“But—”

“Two hundred celestas,” you declared firmly, “on the condition that you add a few more cherubim to my collection.”

In the end, he agreed to your offer with an air of triumph as if he had hit the jackpot. He penned your receipt with a sense of satisfaction, believing he had outwitted you with his inflated price when, unbeknownst to him, he had just sold pieces worth roughly two-hundred thousand celestas. The clear winner in this exchange was you, though you kept that fact strictly concealed. Your strategy to amass personal wealth would remain a secret to all, even if Milena thought you had lost your mind paying such a sum for the work of a struggling artist.

And you did not plan to stop there. Your next task was to visit Pietro De Luca, a renowned painter from your past life who had risen to prominence during your time as empress. Like the sculptor, this man was yet to achieve fame during the future period of artistic renaissance. He was the one who painted you and your husband’s infamous portrait at the palace. Unfortunately, though, luck was not on your side when you visited the painter that day, as the man had apparently journeyed to Constantia and would not return for another fortnight.

Ah, well. There would always be another opportunity.

“My Lady,” spoke Milena, standing beside you as your father’s men loaded the sculptures into the spare carriage. “I never imagined the day would come when you would take an interest in sculptures. When did you develop an eye for art?”

To tell her the truth, you cared little for its artistic merit. Your sole concern was its value and the wealth it would bring you in a decade’s time. You could never reveal that fact to Milena, so you offered an excuse instead. “They make for lovely decorations, do they not? They would certainly add to the opulence of the estate.”

Your sentence was abruptly interrupted as a pair of playing children collided with you, causing your hood to slip down and reveal your face. The mother of the children, instead of offering an apology, was too stunned to realize that you were a noblewoman from the capital. They were clearly of lower status than commoners; they were beggars, clad in tattered garments and bearing grimy faces. Your heart twinged with pity, especially upon seeing the mother cradling a baby in her arms.

A poor infant. Almost instinctively, your hand flew to your belly as memories flooded your mind of the baby you nearly had in your past life. It was Satoru’s child, the future emperor of the empire, the sole heir to the imperial Gojou lineage. Yet, he refused to acknowledge it as his own. What would have happened to your child if he had lived? The bittersweet recollection clenched at your gut. 

“Please, my lady,” pleaded the impoverished woman, “Any food or clothing would be a blessing.”

To think of it, in your past life, you realized that the commoners harbored resentment towards you for your extravagant lifestyle. None of the luxuries you enjoyed as empress were shared with the masses of the Caelum Empire. They remained trapped in poverty while you reveled in comfort, completely disconnected from their reality. It was no wonder you had incurred the wrath of Goddess Fortuna and Archangel Raphael.

And now, overwhelmed by compassion, you motioned for Milena to offer 50 celestas to the woman, who graciously accepted your gift. The sum would suffice for six months' worth of food supplies. Though you wished you could give more, your wealth was not infinite as the daughter of a duke. Nevertheless, it was the gesture that mattered, was it not?

As you and Milena continued to stroll through the plaza, you could sense the incredulous glances she would cast your way. It must have been strange for her to witness your kindness towards commoners, let alone your act of charity by giving away months worth of allowance to strangers.

“Is it the tea I served you the other morning, my lady?” she inquired, concerned. “You seem to be behaving differently, as if you have transformed into a completely different person.”

In your previous life, Milena’s straightforward comments would have resulted in punishment from you. However, in this timeline, you merely chuckled with her. “Life’s too fleeting to be evil all the time.”

Like an eager puppy, she nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, my lady. Indeed! It brings me joy to see you embracing life in a different manner.”

If only she knew the hardships you had endured in the past, molding you into someone who viewed the world through a different lens in this present time. She would have been glad to see you become an empress, but she would be horrified to know the amount of souls that died by your hands alone. 

You were lost in contemplation throughout the afternoon, and you wandered aimlessly around the city, immersing yourself fully in the lives of the common folk until dusk began to descend. Just as you were about to make your way back to your carriage, a larger one passed by, adorned in white and blue with the imperial insignia proudly displayed.

Today heralded the return of Princess Savina from The Providence. She was the sister of Crown Prince Satoru and the infamous Caelum princess who had tragically perished alongside her lover, Prince Megumi of Astheryn.

Her tragic demise was also the beginning of Satoru’s descent to tyranny. 

That could only mean one thing: the true story was just about to unfold. 

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You felt unsettled. 

Princess Savina’s return marked not only a significant turning point, but also served as a stark reminder of the events that had unfolded in your previous life. Her tragic death had set off a chain reaction of calamities. After her illicit romance with an Astherean prince was exposed, a devastating war broke out and claimed the deaths of innocent citizens. Shortly after, the prince and princess' dead bodies were discovered in the Sistine Chapel. While the conflict might have concluded with an armistice, it was also the catalyst for Satoru’s path to seizing the throne with your helping hand. It was this very moment that laid the groundwork for Satoru's eventual usurpation of the throne. 

Soon after, Satoru’s ascension to power would be imminent, with you standing by his side as his chosen empress. He would eliminate every traitor you had identified, while you exacted vengeance upon those who had wronged you prior to your rise to an imperial status. Yet, despite your unwavering loyalty and dedication, Satoru never truly trusted or loved you as his wife, ultimately leading to his betrayal in the end.

How could you stand still and watch history repeat itself? 

You had to have a plan. You had to devise a scheme wise enough to change the course of your life. And perhaps, befriending Savina might be the key. She might have a chance to live if her affair with the Astherean prince remained undiscovered, averting the tragic chain of events that led to her demise. That way, Satoru would not harbor the desperation to usurp his parents. He would not ask you to orchestrate a coup, and make you his pathetic empress in return. In this life, you resolved to be repulsive enough in Satoru's eyes that he would be utterly disinterested in you, even if you were the last person on Earth. 

The plan seemed logical, yet simultaneously absurd. In your past life, you had strived with all your might to become Satoru's wife, yet now, you were doing everything in your power to avoid such a fate. Is this naught but a cruel game? You could not suppress a wry chuckle as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the bright moonlight casting an illuminated glow upon you. It was enchanting yet horrifying at the same time to see a faint scar encircling your neck, a grim mark that reminded you of your previous fate as a beheaded empress. You were still uncertain whether you were the only one who could see the scar, but Milena had never seemed to notice it during your bathing rituals. Perhaps the scar would only manifest as a visible reminder of sin, and would fade with virtuous deeds. Your recent act of generosity towards the beggar, however, seemed to carry no weight in mitigating your previous unethical dealings with Maestro Giancarlo. It appeared that genuine acts of kindness were only truly rewarded when performed with sincerity, while any hint of selfishness nullified their positive effects.

You acknowledged that virtuousness was not inherently ingrained within you. While avoiding marriage to Satoru was your primary objective, the prospect of a life dedicated to serving the common people was not your desired path. As long as you refrained from inflicting suffering upon others, you saw no necessity in accumulating merits through good deeds. After all, your sole task, as directed by Archangel Raphael, was to atone for your sins, not to become a paragon of virtue. You were no saint. 

Three days had quickly passed since that night, and this day held a special occasion that had your heart pumping heavily the morning you woke up. Today, as accurate as your previous life, was the day of The Mass of Annunciation—a holy Catholic mass to celebrate when Archangel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary and announced to her that she would conceive and give birth to the son of God, Jesus. 

The grandeur of the event was undeniable, and attendance was obligatory for all noble families of Caelum, given the devout nature of the empire’s populace. Moreover, the presence of the imperial Gojou family ensured the importance of the occasion. Yet, for you, stepping into Saint Peter's Basilica once more stirred nerves as memories flooded back from your time as an empress. Now, as a 20-year-old daughter of a duke, you entered the basilica beside your brother, Aristide, whose pompous demeanor drew the gaze of all noble ladies present. After all, he was the empire’s second most eligible bachelor after Satoru himself. In your first life, your brother had wed Lady Serena, and your relationship had soured when you declared him a traitor and accused him of treachery against your then-husband. Although Satoru had spared his life, he had decreed Aristide’s eventual exile, wary of the threat posed by a brother-in-law with ambitions for the throne.

The stark contrast between your current standing and your former eminence as an empress was palpable as you made your first public appearance in high society since your regression. No longer did heads turn and knees bend at the sight of you. Instead, you were regarded as a mere noblewoman, approaching the age where marriage prospects dwindled, and whispered rumors branded you as a woman with an unsavory fixation on the crown prince. It was a humbling experience, to say the least, and a reminder of the depths to which your reputation had fallen.

Despite no longer holding the title of empress, you spared no effort in your attire. You carried yourself with the same regal air, a testament to your upbringing and the lavish lifestyle afforded by your father. Your family not only produced the bravest knights, but also supported a prosperous weaponry business, which reflected your ostentatious way of life. That was why you had the means to wear a sumptuous gown of rich burgundy brocade, intricately woven with gold thread and adorned with delicate floral embroidery. You made certain that the modest neckline gracefully covered your neck to hide your revolting scar, while layers of sheer chiffon formed a voluminous skirt that cascades to your feet. Your hair was secured in a crespine, a delicate net-like veil adorned with lustrous pearls and sparkling gemstones, while around your neck hung a simple yet elegant silver cross pendant to add a touch of reverence.

In your eyes, you considered yourself a modest and conservative lady who was hesitant to reveal too much skin. However, your brother found it laughable, jesting that you might as well become a nun given how covered your chest and neckline were. He remarked that it was unusual for you to dress in such a reserved manner, as you had previously taken the initiative to wear attire that would attract Satoru’s manly gaze.

“Announcing the arrival of His and Her Imperial Highness, followed by His and Her Imperial Majesties—the luminaries of our empire.”  

As the imperial family arrived at the basilica, a hushed anticipation suddenly fell over the gathered crowd. The air was filled with a palpable sense of reverence and awe as the imposing façade of the basilica welcomed the presence of the empire’s highest authority.

First to enter were Princess Savina and Crown Prince Satoru, the heir and heiress to the throne, their regal presence commanding attention as they made their way down the grand procession. Princess Savina was resplendent in a gown of shimmering silk and a coronet as her headdress, while there he came… Your then-husband. Your ex-lover. Your betrayer. Crown Prince Satoru, clad in a tailored doublet of rich blue velvet, projecting an air of quiet strength and authority as he stared straight ahead towards the altar like he did in your past life. You had almost forgotten how princely handsome he was when he was younger, and you could not stop your frenzied heart as you felt somersaults in your stomach. No, you must not! It was all in the mind. It was all a matter of mind games, and this might be the first time you had seen Satoru again in real life after your regression, but he was still a man who had ordered to kill you. You should never be fooled by his luscious white hair and sky blue eyes. 

“In love?” whispered your brother, a smirk visible on his face. 

“Out of love,” you corrected and remained resolute in your goal not to get swayed by Satoru’s charm again. “I feel not a single thing.” 

Aristide scoffed at that. “Yet your eyes shine at the sight of him?” 

As the imperial siblings took their places at the head of the procession, the assembled congregation bowed their heads in deference as the imperial family proceeded to their seats and their every movement watched with rapt attention by the gathered nobility. Following closely behind were the Emperor and Empress, the reigning monarchs of the empire, their presence heralded by the sound of trumpets and the swell of sacred music.

You chose not to bicker with your brother throughout the holy mass, although there were times you were tempted to cuss him out. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, ridiculing your attire and insisting that Satoru would never pay you any attention. He took great pleasure in reminding you of the prince’s supposed revulsion towards your obsession, when little did your foolish brother know, you would be glad if that was in fact true. 

And the ironic thing was, in your previous life, you had done Aristide a great favor by marrying Satoru. This freed up Lady Serena for marriage, despite her supposed status as the crown prince’s favorite. You used to despise Serena out of sheer jealousy, while Aristide had always desired her, which was why your brother had urged you to win Satoru's affections to pave the way for him to marry the lady he so coveted.

In this life, you decided not to interfere in any potential relationship between Satoru and Serena, regardless of your brother’s wishes. You acknowledged that Serena would make a far superior empress than yourself, as she possessed enough empathy in her to prioritize the welfare of her people and avoid endangering them. She was not the type of person who would willingly bring about the destruction of an entire nation, nor would she welcome the spread of plague out of mere vengeance against her husband. 

With Satoru out of your plans, Savina then came into the picture. You had to speak and get close to her—close enough for her to trust you and befriend you, but not attached enough for you to act like her older sister. You would only be here to guide her and avoid her from the path of her downfall in order to save yourself. Savina was the key. 

Savina… Savina would be the one to save you in this life. Savina was your only hope. 

As the mass concluded, some of the nobles began to disperse, while others congregated in a corner to converse with the Archbishop. Your sole intention at that moment was to approach Savina, allowing your feet to lead you to the direction of where she was. But just before you reached her, you stumbled upon a very significant individual who had played a pivotal role in bringing about your suffering in your previous life.

It was none other than Satoru’s advisor, Lord Maximillian. 

“Lady Y/N, it is a delight to see you,” the man greeted, but you could see right through him. He never liked you now and in the past. In fact, his hatred stemmed from his peculiar fixation towards the imperial family. He may look younger presently, but he was still an old and rotten base-born cur. 

Maximilian was the one responsible for introducing Satoru to the prophecy, and he was also the individual who whispered your demise into your husband's ears. Given his role in your past suffering, why should you afford him any respect?

“It is rather surprising you had not burned inside the church,” you remarked acerbically, eliciting widened eyes from the nobleman. “Yet it does beg the question, Lord Maximilian, what brings a heretic like yourself inside a Catholic church?”

Within the confines of the basilica, or at least the space surrounding you, a variety of reactions unfolded. A noble lady shot you a disapproving stare for your perceived rudeness towards a man of higher nobility, while your brother regarded you with a mixture of astonishment and concern as if you had gone mad. Conversely, a young nobleman appeared impressed by your audacity.

As for Maximilian, it was rather amusing to observe the crimson hue that spread across his face. You anticipated his retort and braced yourself for his comeback. “Why, you foul-mouthed wench!” he exclaimed, his voice laden with indignation. “Who do you think you are speaking to?!”

You grinned triumphantly at your success in offending him. “You should be ashamed to show yourself in front of God—” you began, relishing the opportunity to further provoke him, but was cut short when a formidable presence appeared before you. 

The arctic white hair, the crystal blue eyes, the smooth ivory skin, the towering build from years of training… 

“Your Highness,” Maximilian immediately curtsied before the prince, while you remained frozen in place. Like a statue. “Your Highness, this young lady is preposterous!” 

On one hand, Satoru’s eyes bathed in humor as he observed the interaction between you and Maximilian. This was the first time you two had faced each other since the regression, and the emotions stirred within you were still raw. You were husband and wife when you last saw each other. You could still remember the last time you saw him the night before your execution, when he visited you in the West Tower and asked you to live a solitary life in the countryside as his mistress. Your heart seemed to constrict in your chest, yet simultaneously, it pounded loudly with anticipation. 

“Max, it seems the lady has labeled you a heretic,” the Crown Prince remarked, his gaze unwavering as he focused on you. “Can you substantiate your accusations, Lady Y/N?” he inquired, prompting you to defend your claims.

Satoru, you fool. If you were to reveal what happened in your previous life, he would be an accomplice to the crime. He carried the highest position in the empire at the time, yet he was a supporter of heresy himself. That alone would have brought him into Inquisition. 

You could not think straight. Oh for heaven’s sake! You could not focus. Could not breathe. Could not speak. Your thoughts were flooded by memories of your past life; of Satoru claiming you were useless for being barren, of him refusing to acknowledge your child, of him planning to wed another woman after the years you had devoted to him, of him ruthlessly ordering your execution. 

Of him never saying he loved you. 

Before you realized it, tears welled up in your eyes. You were utterly unprepared to encounter him today, let alone engage in conversation, especially while the wounds from your past were still so raw. Some wounds had yet to heal, and the mere sight of him brought them flooding back.

And with your unexpected reaction, his expression softened and morphed into one of genuine concern. Why? Why was he suddenly concerned now when he spent years of being an ungrateful husband? His smile had long vanished, replaced by a look of worry after seeing you on the verge of breaking down. However, before the tears could spill, you turned and fled, unable to bear the thought of crying in front of a man like him.

“Hold on, Lady Y/N—!”

His voice called out to you, but you refused to look back. No, you were determined to only keep moving forward, to distance yourself from the man who had caused you so much pain. Therefore, you hastily fled the basilica, seeking solace amidst the throng of nobles who were crowding outside. 

As you ran, tears streamed down your face unchecked, yet you let it be. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing that the man you had once loved so deeply now had the power to hurt you all over again. Only when you found a secluded spot beneath a stone pine tree did you collapse, clutching your chest as you recalled the face of the man who had caused you so much anguish.

I despise you, Satoru. 

“How could you betray me like that?” you murmured, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed beneath the tree, feeling utterly pathetic.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over you, and as you looked up, you saw a man with dark hair clad in shining armor. His smile was gentle as he approached and crouched down beside you.

“My lady.” It was the Knight Commander, Yuuta, offering you his handkerchief. “Is everything alright?”

#series: lltv #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader

[strangersmunsons]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 8 Prompt: Rom-Coms 🎟️ ~ 2,400 words Watching a romantic comedy on TV brings back some memories for Eddie. (angst, w/ a hopeful ending)

Eddie taps the lit end of his cigarette into an ashtray, staring at the television screen with tired eyes. The bluish light casts an eerie glow about the room; it feels cold, sterile. 

This has been his ritual for far too long now: go to work, come home, and watch some mind-numbing program alone until he falls asleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

He yawns, and rubs his stubbly face with one hand. He should get in bed before he passes out on the couch — save his back the trouble — but instead he picks up the remote again, flicking through channels, waiting in vain for something stimulating.

Coca-Cola ad. Late night talk show interview. Some black and white picture from MGM. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. Sitcom rerun. 

He pauses, thumb hovering over the button.

Eddie switches back to When Harry Met Sally. He rented it from Family Video once upon a time, but he hasn’t watched it in years. It feels like an eternity has passed since then and yet, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

That’s what every memory with you feels like to him; it’s both an old scar and a fresh wound. He doesn’t know what feels worse — the hot, gut-wrenching ache of longing that pains him now, or the knowledge that those memories, no matter how agonizing they may be, might start to fade one day.

But it seems an impossibility; he can recall every detail. He wets his lips, remembering how you had pleaded with him in line to rent this particular film, even though he’d been hoping to see the new Indiana Jones movie.

“Rob Reiner doesn’t make bad movies, Eddie. He did The Princess Bride, remember? Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

He relented, as he always did. Who was he to deny you anything?

But oh, how things change.

Pipe dreams turned to reality. Demo tapes turned to albums. Dive bar gigs turned to international tours. You, bravely avowing that he had to grab hold of every opportunity he could — you told him that no matter where in the world he went, you would always be here, loving him. All the while, secretly, the small pit of fear planted in your stomach was sprouting and unfurling as the distance between you two grew further, and the silences louder. 

He should have tried harder. Came home more. Picked up the Goddamn phone. He’d always had to call you; it was too difficult to get a hold of him yourself, to keep track of where he might be, when he was traveling constantly.

And then that awful night, when he’d lost everything. Everything that mattered, anyway. 

It was the last time he ever saw or spoke to you. Hours of arguing, pleading, crying; it was the death rattle of the most important relationship of his life. You finally told him what you were afraid of, what you had been afraid of, and that it had come true.

“I’m just a girl from back home, Eddie.”

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You were never just a girl to Eddie. Not then, not now. Not ever. But what difference had it made? When the time had come for him to make a choice, he had still walked out the door. 

The world was being presented to Eddie Munson on a silver platter. He was young, up-and-coming, successful. A talented musician — gifted, even. He had the right look and the attitude.

Being his partner wasn’t easy. Your support was unwavering, but your lives were going in different directions, it seemed. You both loved each other enough to want the other person to have what they wanted, which were…no longer the same things. 

But it was still horrible. 

He spent the next few weeks in a near-fugue state, numb and inconsolable. His bandmates whispered to each other in the studio, casting furtive glances over at their supposedly-invincible leader, while the rest of their team offered him pseudo-smiles tinged with impatience, and suggested that he focus on channeling the pain towards his music.

After that, when he had the time, he’d leave LA and come back to the city he’d initially dragged you out to after graduation. He had no idea if you still lived there, but it didn’t matter. It was the last place he knew you to be and so he wandered those familiar streets, looking for you in every person he passed, as though it were likely that he might bump into you at a bus stop, outside the grocery, sitting on a park bench.

It was a luxury he could afford until Corroded Coffin started to fall apart. Disputes between band members, both personal and professional. Declining album sales. Bad management. Once sold-out venues were a struggle to fill. The once-steady flow of cash turned into a trickle, and then the boys were unceremoniously dropped from label, the execs deciding that keeping them around wasn’t worth the expense.

He supposes he could have stayed in the industry if he really wanted to. Formed a new band or begged to join another that was in need of a guitarist, but Corroded Coffin was his baby. The idea of starting all over again or leeching off of another group’s success left a bad taste in his mouth. And the producing gigs and session work somehow felt even worse; he dreaded having to watch others succeed at what he had ended up failing.

Fame had chewed him up, decided it didn’t like the flavor, and promptly spit him back out. His music career felt like a fever dream now. His life before that, with you, was the realest thing he’d ever had. 

As he watches Harry and Sally dine together at Katz’s Deli, his mind wanders to the slip of paper stowed carefully away like a sacred jewel, all alone in a drawer of his bedside table. 

No, he won’t.

Harry and Sally fall apart.

He won’t dare.

Harry runs through Manhattan to find his girl. 

Not after everything he’s done, after all this time.

Harry tells her all the reasons that he loves her…

Eddie abruptly switches the TV off, unable to hear anymore. He sits in the darkness for a moment, aching with bone-weary sadness. What had Dustin told him, as he passed the paper to him across the table over lunch one day?

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

But Dustin was wrong about that. It could hurt him very, very much.

Eddie stands, and pads through the apartment to his bedroom. He sits on the side of the bed, and pulls open the drawer that holds his very last tie to you — a scrap of old receipt bearing your name and phone number. He picks it up with trembling fingers, then lowers it again, terrified that his clammy hands with smudge the ink. The phone seems to taunt him from where it sits atop the nightstand. As though he’s having an out of body experience, Eddie’s arm reaches out beyond his control and picks it up, the dial tone emitting a low buzz in his ear. He stares down at the number in the drawer, as though he didn’t memorize it the second he got it. He doesn’t even know how Dustin found you; but the geeky little shit has his ways. 

He punches in the number, heart racing faster with each digit he puts in.

It rings…and rings…and rings…

“Hello?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in a low gasp. Your sweet voice is the same, only slightly marred by the bewilderment you must feel at receiving a call this late in the evening. Embarrassingly, his eyes sting with tears; he can’t speak.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Eddie slams the phone back into the receiver, white as a sheet. He gets up, paces a lap around the room, chugs a glass of water, and finally takes his seat again, trying not to hyperventilate. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he picks up the phone again, and re-dials.

His heart is in his throat now, swollen and beating so violently it threatens to choke him. 

Your voice again, slightly more annoyed, though you still sound like an angel. “Hello?”

“H-Hi,” Eddie says hoarsely, and tries to swallow his fear. 

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “...who is this?” 

“It’s me. It’s…it’s Eddie. Munson,” he tacks his surname on at the end, as though he needs to specify.

Muffled noise through the speaker. The seconds tick by, and Eddie waits with dread for you to hang up. 

Finally, you whisper, “Eddie?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“H-How did you get this number?”

He has the phone in a vice grip. “Dustin gave it to me.” 

“Why…why are you calling?” He wishes he could see your expression. You sound terrified, like he’s going to bite you through the phone.

How can he answer that? What is there to say, after so much time, after so much pain? I miss you. I love you. None of it was worth it, even when I was on top. Losing you was like being cut in half.

“I wanted to see how you were. How you are, I mean.”

“I’m okay.” The response is quick, automatic. But you don’t elaborate any further than that, and awkward silence prevails again.

Eddie deserves that, he supposes. Sweat trickles down his back, under his arms, breaks out on his forehead. He pushes his damp bangs back out of his eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart,” the term of endearment slipping out as though a day hasn’t gone by where you haven’t been his sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that,” you tell him tersely, sounding pained.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, ashamed. He had no right to do this to you. Drudge up old memories that you probably wanted to forget, or had so already.

“What is this about?” you ask him again, voice shaking.

“I told you,” he mumbles, “I want to know how you are. And I guess…I want to apologize.”

“You want to apologize,” you repeat skeptically, with an incredulous huff. “Now? Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes glazed and wet. A dry sob rattles his chest. “I don’t what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have called, I shouldn’t be…I’m sure you hate me and I don’t blame you, because I do too.” He wets his lips and presses on. “But if I can take this time to say one thing to you it’s that I’m sorry. For everything. I am so fucking sorry. For leaving, for hurting you, for every stupid little thing I did. That’s why I really called. To tell you that.”

“Oh God,” you say, almost to yourself, voice suddenly small. “I — I’m not ready for this.”

“You don’t have to say anything back,” he whispers, voice breaking, closing his eyes, letting the tears slip over his lashes.

“Are you crying?”

He wipes furiously at his nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Eddie can’t lie to you, certainly not now. “Yes. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Your voice…”

“That — that came out sharper than I meant it to —”

“No, I mean it’s beautiful. I missed it.”

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

You start to speak and then falter, struggling to articulate what it is that you’re feeling. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what to say.”

Eddie laughs brokenly. “Funny, because there’s a million things I want to say to you. I just don’t know if I should or not.”

You swallow with an audible click. “I don’t know if you should, either.”

Another silence. Eddie thinks he could pick out the sound of your breathing from a mile away, he’s still so in tune with it. After hundreds of nights spent laying next to you in bed, no other sound could send him to dreaming so quickly or peacefully.

“But why call now? After all this time?” 

“I miss you.” The words escape before he has a chance to stop them; he bites his tongue against the rest of them. He considers his next words carefully before continuing.

“I never reached out before, because I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. I didn’t deserve to ask you for another chance, and I don’t think I do now, either, but…I was thinking of you tonight. Even more so than usual.”

Your voice shakes. “Does…does that happen often?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “All the time.” The floodgates open; all his woe and regret from the past spills forward. “I am always, always thinking of you. Even when you thought I wasn’t. I know I was a shitty partner, but that didn’t mean — that I didn’t love you more than anything.”

“Eddie —”

But he can’t stop now. “I’ve missed you like hell since that very last night. I loved you so much, a-and I threw it away! How could I bring myself to speak to you after that? Especially after I lost it all? I would — God — I would hate for you to think that I was only coming back to you because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t wanna hurt you again, baby, and I know it would’ve.”

There’s a quiet sniffle on the other line. “It broke me when you left. And now this hurts, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I wish I could make it better. I would do anything to make you not hurt anymore. I won’t ask you for a second chance, but just know,” Eddie takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and seals his fate. “I’ve loved you for more than half my life,” he whispers. “I’ll love you until I die.”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Eddie stares at nothing, doesn’t move. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for; eventually, his body moving on autopilot, he hangs up the phone and crawls under the covers. He’s done sobbing, but tears drip down his temples as he lays back in bed, dampening his hair.

Time doesn’t exist anymore, but he hopes he’ll fall asleep soon anyway.

Breathing, quiet and even. Eyelids slightly heavier. He thinks maybe it’s finally within reach.

He’s almost there.

The phone rings.

Eddie blindly feels with one arm, and picks it up from the receiver for the third time tonight.

“Hello?” he asks hoarsely, not daring to believe it.

An angel answers.

“E-Eddie? It’s me again…”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

👑The girl in the silver dress👑New version

Aemond x reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theselection

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are invited to become a selected girl for Prince Jacaerys's selection. You never thought you would fall for his uncle, prince Aemond instead.

🔷Author's note: Based on the books by Kiera Cass, but reading them is not required.

🔷Wordcount :5393

🔷Warnings: It is not a very dark or triggering fic. If you found something that upsets you, however let me know ill change the warnings

The life you had before the palace was as a child’s coloring book before growing up. You didn't bother about crossing over the lines, no one told you to stop adding hats to the animals you coloured in, or to stop using so much pink and glitters. There was no line you could cross, no scissors wrapped in papers who could cut you open without you realizing.

All of that changed for better or worse when you were selected for the Selection of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon or as he would soon be known under his ruling name, King Jacaerys Velyaron. 

You never thought you would be selected. There are strict laws that only noble ladies from the minor houses can join the month-to-a-year-long competition where the Seven Kingdoms are introduced to his future bride. 

It is more than a beauty pageant. The skills of each bride are tested. The selection does not require mere Valyrian blood or beauty alone anymore. It has become a deadly game full of manipulation, lies, tricks, schemes and plots. Things you know nothing of.

Your house is not as grand as Baratheon, or as rich as Lannister, your house…It has always been decent. Your parents sheltered you from court life and tried giving you a normal life, as normal as one could have with your titles. And now, it all would change

You sit in the dining room of the royal castle, known as the Red Keep. The castle has survived multiple wars, sieges, treasons and deaths long before any of its current inhabitants graced this world, and many more would follow before you all are bones.

In front of you is a silver plate with a spoon, a fork, a knife and a glass. You never knew you cutted your food wrong or that you lean that much with your elbows on a table until your princess training began. 

It is all so terribly confusing. There are 35 girls here, and they want the same as you do. They want to be the one for Prince Jacaerys. They want to sit next to him at official functions and parties, they want one day to be his love, to continue his legacy and perhaps more than Jace, they want this glamorous life. 

You tell yourself that this uneasy feeling, that you don’t quite belong here, will fade. It has to. These girls are all from higher noble houses and used to courtly manners and training. Of course you will be a bit out of place at first. 

A gorgeous black-haired girl with a clear stag necklace with diamonds speaks up, rising from her chair as if she is already proclaimed queen. She turns to the woman who is tasked with guiding and teaching you all how to behave accordingly as the consort of the king. That lady is called Lady Aemma Arryn, yet you may refer to her as Lady Aemma or Lady Arryn. 

The girl’s voice has a slight accent from the Stormlands. ‘’When will we meet the royal family?’’ You believe her name is Floris, but you are not sure. You become slightly worried by her question, as you are in no state of preparation to meet anyone or anything royal at all.

Your teacher sighs, annoyed by this question. ‘’Patience, girls. I won’t introduce you to any royal. Some of you can curtsy but others would fall flat on their faces.’’ She doesn't even glance in your direction. So why do you feel as if she speaks directly about you?

Floris nods to that with a sweet smile, her eyes blinking rapidly. ‘’That would be embarrassing.’’ She says, eying the girls around the table, including you. You pretend to be too busy with your glass to notice.

Lady Aemma smiles. ‘’Yes it would.’’ She says, with a thinly veiled laugh. ‘’For you it would be.’’ She adds with a charming smile.

A few girls giggle delighted by this spectacle and amazing comeback. Floris becomes furious and you fear that for now, Lady Aemma has made an enemy. ‘’Ladies, focus. Remember: You are always one step away from a scandal.’’ The grand doors of the dining room open.

35 heads turn at the same time, taking in the mysterious visitors. It is two young adult males, both dressed in black, with each a motorcycle helmet under their arms. One is slightly taller yet the smaller one stands out the most thanks to his cheekish, boyish and almost taunting grin. 

Nervous chatter erupts among most girls, as they already seem to know who these two men are. You wonder if one of these two men is Jacaerys. The smaller one speaks, and despite the distance between you and him he speaks as if he is sitting right next to you, almost purring in your ear and sending shivers down your spine. ‘’I didn’t know the royal harem had been invited already.’’ 

You are offended by his comment and frown. The selection is not a harem. One girl will be chosen. One. This is nothing like a harem. The taller man remains silent, his expression unreadable as a book in a foreign language you only heard in a dream.

Lady Aemma smiles and for a moment you believe her. You believe she is happy to see both. Until the corners of her mouth slightly begin to hang in displeasure or perhaps pure disgust when she greets the man.

‘’Prince Aegon.’’ You slowly lift your elbows again from the table, quickly sitting straight. ‘’Forgive me, you nor your brother were expected back so quickly.’’ Aegon, or rather prince Aegon approaches the long table with 35 young women that stare at him as if he is a statue that has come to life.

Aegon takes no offense. ‘’It is no matter, Lady Aemma.’’ He makes sure to put a little extra effort on the lady word. ‘’You are getting old, after all.’’ Lady Aemma turns her head so he can’t see her scowl, very subtly before looking at the selected girls again.

She speaks to you all. ‘’Girls, this is Prince Aegon, and Prince Aemond. Please stand up for them, and make a curtsy as is custom.’’ You all stand up before following her orders, making a curtsy or a bow.

Aegon seems to enjoy the attention when his brother remains in the background, unaware of your gaze slowly shifting from Aegon's eyes to his own. When he finally notices your gaze, he scowls. Your smile dies and you turn your gaze to the glass in front of you. Aemond and Aegon leave soon after that, having caused quite the uproar among the selected.

The girl a few chairs away from you speaks, her blue and gorgeous dress reveals she is from either the Arryn, or perhaps a Velyaron. ‘’Is Jace just as pretty as them?’’ She wonders, her voice a little sigh of a girl slowly falling in love.

Lady Aemma scowls at her, before insulting the girl. ‘’Prince Jacaerys to you, and have some self-respect and decorum.’’ A few girls giggle, but you don’t join this time as you take in the sad smile of the girl, clearly embarrassed. 

Two months in the selection and you feel less like a failure every passing day. One day, when you are busy practicing the dance of the dragons, Lady Aemma returns from her walk. Several girls who have been practicing break up their dances, but you and your partner keep engaged in the dance. The girl was shy at first, keeping her movements stiff and ungracious, but after your encouraging smile and jokes about how you look like a parrot when you dance, she has loosened up and dances as if she is the most free and spirited girl out there. Her name is Maris. You and Maris smoothly glide over the dance floor, leaving jealous eyes behind. Not jealousy aimed at you, but at Maris or the bond you two have. Lady Aemma quietly walks over, her hands folded in front of her blue dress when she takes in the movements you and Maris make, faithful to the waltz.

She smiles, nodding in slight approval. You are shocked and you can tell that Maris is too. ‘’Good, especially you, Lady Baratheon. You are a natural.’’ To you, she does not utter a word but gives you a warning glare before turning her head to the other girls. You and Maris finally break up your dance so you can listen to what Lady Aemma has to say.

She sighs, deeply and very unbecoming of a lady, before speaking. ‘’Ladies, it is with great displeasure and my greatest fear that I must admit to myself, and you all, as adults, that you are finally ready to meet what could become your future family in law, as well his royal highness, prince Jacaerys Velyaron.’’ You hear Maris gasp, as well as other girls who giggle and mutter excitedly. Lady Aemma glares at one girl who lets out an excited cheer. ‘’Do not make me regret this.’’ She warns the girl in particular. 

That evening, you are prepared to meet the royal family. You are put in a silver coloured dress with transparent sleeves,  befitting your house colors. The other girls are dressed as well, each in another dress with a different model. When the selection started you all were giving a tailor, a handmaiden, a team of make-up artists and dressmakers. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t nervous to meet the royal family. They have a reputation for being intense people. They dislike outsiders joining their royal private circle, and for centuries banned people for even joining theirs. Now the rules have changed, and you are prepared for your meeting, hearing other girls talk with their teams.

Lady Floris Baratheon wears a dark black with gold gown, sleeveless with a huge diamond choker. Again, it would be a lie if you wouldn’t admit she wears it very well. She orders her maids to tighten her corset even more, before her small feet glide into her dark black heels.

You hear sniffs beside you, and turn your head to a gorgeous blonde crying girl in a red gown. Her make-up artist sighs. ‘’I can’t work like this. The girl keeps crying and it ruins the eyeliner I put on her.’’ Is he heartless? You feel conflicted as you take in her big puffy red eyes. She is upset.

The dressmaker does her best to comfort the girl, but fails miserably because of her annoyed glare and her tight pressed lips. ‘’You are ruining everything we worked so hard for with your tears.’’ She warns the girl. 

That only makes the girl feel even more terrible. ‘’I don’t know. What if he hates this? What if he hates me?’’  Your chest tightens as you become worried about that too.

A woman with her gorgeous silver locks high up on a knot in the Valyrian style, approaches the girl, gently taking her hands into her own. ‘’He doesn’t know you, he can’t hate you yet.’’ She tells the girl, who slowly calms down because of this act of sincere genuine kindness. That is all she needed.

The girl continues giving her advice as you listen in on them, feeling terrible that you do so. ‘’Jacaerys is very kind, and takes his role and the selection very seriously. He will have a small talk with all of us. Just be yourself, Jace likes that the most.’’ She finally notices you listening in. Instead of glaring or snapping at you, she smiles. ‘’You look beautiful. Silver is your color.’’

You are speechless. The girl she helped, is not. ‘’Thank you, Lady Baela. You’re always very kind to me.’’ She sniffs. ‘’If my face wasn’t full of snot and ruined make-up, I’d hug you.’’ 

Lady Baela smiles, yet beams at the compliment before taking the girl’s hand. After Baela has cleaned her face for her, and put on a fresh layer of much less expressive make-up, she takes the girl by her hand. ‘’I’m simply speaking my truth, lady Dyana. Come, we’ll go in together. I met the royal family before. They are actually very nice.’’

Floris snaps her head to Baela, taking in her dark blue puffy gown as she scoffs, clearly hating the seahorses that are embroidered on it. ‘’Where the hell would a girl like you met the royals before?’’ She asks, her voice clearly jealous.

Baela smiles, sweetly. ‘’Be careful, Lady Floris. Green clashes with black.’’ She walks with Dyana to the people by the doors, to let them know they are ready. You smile, faintly until you notice Floris approaching you.

She takes in your plain silver dress. ‘’You’re the nameless girl.’’ That is one way to greet you.

You shrug. ‘’What if I am?’’

Floris sighs, deeply as if you are just stupid before giving you some friendly advice meant as a threat. ‘’Just don’t bother, dear. A prince like Jace wants a girl with a house, banners, and good men to fight his wars.’’

You might suck at dancing, at court manners, public speaking, but the history and the books? That is something you excel at. You turn your head. ‘’Lady Floris. Perhaps if you spent as much time with your nose in a book as you did making others feel miserable, you would know that the last time the Seven Kingdoms had a war was hundreds of years ago. I suggest you spent more time reading, no man likes a girl that can’t keep up with him.’’ A few girls overhear and giggle among themselves, as Floris becomes a dark shade of red. You let her be, before telling the crew you are ready as well.

You are let in at the same time as Dyana. You take a moment to take in the grand chandelier, dangling from the ceiling, the polished marble tiles and the buffet tables with delicious sweets and glasses of champagne. The curtains that cover the tall windows are in a red color with dark black details, and you hear a faint orchestra play an upbeat tune as the selected are paraded to the royal family. 

You feel like you don’t belong here at all, suddenly. You and Dyana both approach the royal family. You will curtsy to every member, and when he has the time, Prince Jacaerys will formally meet his selected, making a conversation of about 3 minutes with every girl. You feel nervous, so you wonder how Lady Dyana  is feeling. She must feel even worse. She is close to crying again. You wait for her to catch your glance. She finally looks at you, a little nervous and worried.

You wink at her, causing her to giggle loudly. The royals snap their heads in her direction, but Jace’s lips curl into an approving smile, before grinning back. Dyana makes a deep, beautiful curtsy for Jacaerys. He speaks to her, smiling as well, before likely asking what she was laughing about. Dyana nods to your direction and Jace follows her gaze to you. Jace nods as if he thanks you, before taking off with Dyana.

Your hand is grabbed and you are tugged out of the line by Lady Aemma. You smell her intense parfum as you are dragged to the side. ‘’I had hoped you learned by now.’’ She sighs, almost disappointed in you. She turns her body so she can look at you.

You blink, confused. ‘’Had learned what, Lady Aemma?’’ You ask, your voice soft. ‘’Dyana seemed nervous-’’

She grabs your shoulders, breaking protocol. ‘’These girls are not your friends, Y/N. They would throw you from the towers so they can hold Jace’s hand when he takes in your corpse. Every girl is here for herself. You should be too.’’ She warns you, but you are not angry. Just upset.  Deep down, you know very well she is right. ‘’You are a sweet, genuine girl with a kind, gentle heart. It won’t lead you anywhere with this family. Take it from me. Kind girls, finish last.’’ She looks at King Viserys when speaking. ‘’If they reach the finish at all, that is.’’ You heard Floris once tell a story that Lady Aemma was a Queen once, but that Viserys degraded her because she could not deliver him a healthy child. Others say that Alicent used her dark magic on the king, breaking their relationship. So you don’t really know if there is truth to those rumors, and if so, how much truth.

‘’Come, Jacaerys is occupied, but the other members of the family must be greeted.’’ She takes you with her, walking you to the other members of the very well dressed royal family. ‘’May I present, Lady Y/N?’’ Princess Regent Rhaenyra is the first to address you.

Her dress takes your breath away, it is a dark black gown with red and golden details, but on her back are dragon wings. You drop in a low respectful curtsy before lowering your gaze. The princess smiles, approvingly before telling you to rise with a nod. ‘’My. Your dress is by far the simplest, but still the most beautiful out here. You must share your tailor with me.’’ She rambles excitedly. ‘’I love the little sparkles.’’ She seems like a sweet kind woman. You don’t understand why the media calls her cruel. ‘’And I saw what you did for your fellow selected. You have taken my interest, I don’t doubt you’ll hold Jacaerys soon as well.’’

You are brought before the king next, King Viserys. Aemma does not speak a single word, but you drop into another curtsy. The king speaks, and you worry for madness coming out. But it is far from madness. It is plain, true, as clear as a piece of well forged glass. ‘’It is a wonderful day, seeing a common girl grace the halls with the posture and decorum of a true born royal. Your kindness with the girl did not go unnoticed.’’ He speaks very kindly and you almost feel as if you are back at home again. He nods to Dyana who is now dancing with Jacaerys, in the waltz you practiced, not a care in the world. ‘’A ruler must have a kind heart, that beats for her people.’’

You are shocked and honored by his compliments. ‘’Y-your majesty, King Viserys. Your words honor me.’’ You speak, your voice touched by his kindness. 

A sharp but elegant voice cuts in, interrupting you, protocol and the reality is brought back in. ‘’May I cut in?’’ A beautiful red haired woman in a dark green gown with sharp spikes smiles at you, and you know she is Queen Alicent.

Viserys nods, smiling as you gulp silently. ‘’Of course, dear. This is her majesty, Queen Alicent Hightower.’’ You make another deep curtsy, and you can’t understand why she is called a witch or worse in the media sometimes.

Alicent smiles at Aemma. Aemma smiles back, unchallenged. You can read rivalry and hatred in both their eyes. Until Alicent speaks. ‘’Surely your flock needs help? I’ll take over for you. She only needs to meet my sons and the little princes.’’ The flock, being selected girls. You feel insulted and a little frightened when Alicent takes you with her, not giving Aemma a chance to save you. She walks you to the two young adult men, no longer in leather and jeans, but in suit and tie. They look extraordinarily handsome, for sure. But you are not here for them.

Prince Aegon sighs, muttering to his brother how bored he is. Prince Aemond does not even respond, having his hands folded on the back of his suit jacket, and his good eye is aimed at you, and you alone as a bee in trance of a blooming flower. Aegon even waves his hand in front of Aemond’s good working eye, before Aemond snaps at him, likely telling him to behave. You find it wondrous how he is the youngest, yet act as the eldest.

Alicent presents you to her sons. ‘’Aemond, Aegon…’’ She glares at the latter, warning him with that. ‘’This is Lady Y/n.’’ You dip in another curtsy, smiling at both royals who do nothing to even acknowledge your existence. 

The silence is painfully awkward as Alicent leaves. You speak, your voice soft and sincere. ‘’I am honored.’’

The eldest prince scoffs, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. ‘’I imagine you would be.’’ You try to find your tongue, to say something sharp and witty but all that comes out is a very soft:

‘’Pardon?’’

Aegon laughs, gesturing around him. ‘’We are royalty, you are like a peasant. We are the lions, you are our gazelle.’’ You feel nauseous at that description, as if he can rip you to shreds. 

You turn your head to the other prince who remains silent. The prince follows your gaze. ‘’Don’t talk to my brother, he is not very talkative. Unless you like to talk about ancient Dornish statues, or banter on endless debates about historic battles.’’ You would much rather be getting a drink, then to be in the crossfire between those two.

Aemond hisses, clearly a bit embarrassed in his rough voice. ‘’Aegon.’’

You see an opening. And so you take it. ‘’I quite like Dornish statues. My father is the patron of art conversionship in Sunspear.’’ Aegon bristles, scoffing when sipping his drink when Aemond looks at you as if he only sees you now for the first time. He sees the real you, for the first time.  ‘’You do? You don’t…’’ He clears his throat. ‘’Find it boring?’’

Your father has been patron of persevering Dornish and other foreign cultural works, protecting it from greedy graverobbers and folks who think other people’s cultures belong in their own house. He makes sure the local museums display it, earn money from it and profit from it but most of all: That Dornish aritfacts remain in Dorne. Your dad does admirable work, some would call it boring, perhaps. But how else can you learn from history, if you don’t cherish and protect it?

Your words come blurting out, before you can stop them, quoting your father. ‘’Only a soul with little imagination would find history boring.’’ Aegon stops sipping his drink, looking at you with newfound interest. But Aemond has become absolutely silent, a smile on his pink soft lips.

You forgot yourself for a brief moment. These men are above you. ‘’I-..’’

The younger prince talks, his rough but soft voice leaving his mouth. ‘’I concur.’’ He nods, even. ‘’What is your favorite piece?’’ He brings his champagne glass to his lips before taking a sip.

You watch, before answering the question. ‘’It’s a cliche, but Nymeria’s statues, the ones that have been constructed by her family.’’ You tell him, with a dismissive little laugh.

The prince does not agree with you. ‘’Is it a cliche, or is it a classic?’’ You are dumbstruck at that comment, feeling all your wit leave your body. He smiles, reassuring that he does not find your interests stupid. And that is something no one else did before. He in fact, takes the bait and asks you things. ‘’The one’s at Sunspear or the one’s at Dornegarden? Of course, a lot of smaller statues have been build all over Dorne to honor her.’’ You are impressed by his knowledge.

You nod. Dornegarden is on your bucket list. ‘’Dornegarden’s are my favorite. The statues are so immensely huge, as if she is a goddess looking down at you.’’ You describe it the way your father described it to you.

Beyond his shyness you can see a small smile appearing, gentle as a first snowflake in november. ‘’Ah, I can see why you like her. She was clever, fierce and beautiful too.’’ You blush, unintended. 

You know it is polite to ask, but part of you is dying to know. ‘’And yours?’’ Aemond opens his mouth but sadly, the pig that is his brother interrupts, ruining this precious moment and shutting Aemond up.

Aegon grins. ‘’He has a fascination for everything depressing, doomed and disastrous.’’ You try to think of a specific name that comes to mind. Isn’t all history depressing, dooming and disastrous, in certain ways? 

‘’Oryn.’’ Aemond mumbles, quietly.

You hear it perfectly. If he were in a crowd of thousand screaming men, you would hear it just as clear. ‘’Oryn?’’ You find that an interesting intriguing choice.

Aemond nods, his silver hair going up and down.‘’Yeah.’’

‘’I like his statues.’’ You tell him. His temple was destroyed by his usurper, the king’s brother, when Oryn was cut in pieces. The foul king took Oryn’s wife as well.

The prince takes a bigger sip of his champagne, his body language suddenly tense and clearly distressed. ‘’You don’t have to lie to me. I know no one really gives a fuck about him.’’ He mutters as if he hates himself for caring as much as he does.

You step closer to the prince before speaking your truth. ‘’I’m not lying, his story is a tragedy but it doesn’t mean that the story isn’t worth telling. It has betrayal, brotherly love, devotion and romance. How can you not love it?’’ You bring out your smartphone from your handbag, showing Aemond a few photo’s your father sent on his recent travels. ‘’They found his grave recently. My dad was there when they cut the rock open.’’ Aemond’s mood changes back from sullen to excited, to impressed, yet still reserved.

‘’No way.’’ He murmurs, looking at the little screen as if it’s a diamond. ‘’Your father leads the expedition?’’ He sounds impressed, and you blush.

You know the Dornish would never. Too long, Westerosi grave robbers from the Crownlands have taken Dornish artifacts. ‘’No, the Dornish lead it themselves. Father simply is invited, because he protects the art faithfully. The Dornish have closed him in their hearts.’’ 

Aemond understands that, still his eyes are glued to your phone, taking in every detail on the dark photo. ‘’Oh, yes, of course.’’

He mutters to himself.‘’Where did they even find this?’’

You tell what your father told you. ‘’A farmer found it. Apparently his son was playing and saw a crack in a rock. They rolled the rock away, revealing a cave. Inside the cave, there was his tomb.’’ The rest of the world seems to fade when you and Aemond talk, the worries and fears of not fitting in miles away.

He grins, smiling, letting out a little chuckle. ‘’I love that. I doubt his brother knew of it. His supporters must have made it, after Oryn was slain.’’ His brother would be Prince Razar, the brother of Prince Oryn, and Princess Farya.

He is an Oryn supporter, so perhaps he likes to hear this as well. ‘’Dad says they found traces of Queen Farya. Flowers were left. They withered, but they are testing the remains. They think they already know it are Dornish daisies.’’ You tell him.

The simple grin he lets out does something to your heart. ‘’Her favorite, according to many poems out of that time.’’ 

You nod. ‘’Yes, exactly.’’

Aemond becomes a little more serious, still rambling on, happy to finally have found someone, anyone that listens. ‘’Do you think that she was even allowed to visit her brother’s grave? Or out of the palace?’’

You think deeply before speaking. You avoid his gaze. ‘’Perhaps in secret? When people are meant to be together…’’

He answers without missing a moment. ‘’They will find a way.’’ You smile at one another, both lost in each other’s eyes.

He breaks eye-contact, nodding to the phone. ‘’This is certainly amazing. Thank you for showing me this.’’

You take back your phone, putting it in the handbag. ‘’Have you ever been in Dorne, my Prince?’’ You wonder. Aemond seems to slightly blush.

He nods. ‘’Yes, many times. I go as often as my duties allow me.’’ You inwardly sigh, delighted. That must be so wonderful.

The prince then turns to look at you. ‘’And you?’’

You shrug, a little playing with your handbag.‘’It’s a heartwish of mine.’’ You confess.

Aegon makes a strange sound, startling you as if he is about to puke any moment. ‘’Give me a fucking bucket.’’ he comments, grumpily you both ignored him for so long. You feel embarrassed and mocked.

Aemond’s smile dies and he is back to hiding his emotions. ‘’Aegon, perhaps you can go get a drink?’’ He suggest, sweetly. Aegon nods, taking off. Once Aegon is gone, he turns to you. ‘’I apologize for him. We had such a lovely conversation and now its ruined.’’ You nod, but part of you is worried the conversation isn’t allowed. 

You try to give him some advice, though. ‘’Don’t be. He is your brother, but you don’t control him.’’

He seems dumbstruck by those words, staring at his empty champagne glass. ‘’Hm. I’ve been apologizing for his behavior before I was old enough to walk.’’ He mutters.

You smile, faking a bit of a stern glare causing him to chuckle. ‘’Well, maybe you should stop apologizing.’’ You mean it. He is not responsible for Aegon.

The prince nods, as if you have given him a lot to think about. ‘’Maybe I should.’’

You notice the Prince, Jacaerys has joined you, listening in with his hands folded on his back. You notice the seahorse pin on his chest.‘’Ahum.’’

You dip in a curtsy. ‘’Your highness.’’

Jacaerys ignores you, staring at prince Aemond. ‘’Uncle.’’

‘’Nephew.’’

You notice another rivalry, unfolding right before your eyes. You wish to leave, right now.

Jacaerys speaks, his voice taunting but soft. ‘’Thank you for keeping Lady Y/n occupied when I spoke to the other ladies. It is her turn now, however.’’ Aemond lifts his chin as if he wants to speak, but changes his mind.

‘’Of course.’’ And with that, he lets you go. You turn on your heel, walking back to Aemond. ‘’It is always nice to talk with someone about history.’’ You thank him with that and smile. He doesn't smile. He does not even glance at you, anymore.

All you get is a vague, disinterested ‘’Hm.’’

The prince takes you with him, walking to the buffet before offering you a glass of champagne. ‘’Did he hurt you?’’

He casually asks between filling the glasses. 

You are confused. ‘’Who?’’

He shrugs, as if it's obvious. ‘’Aemond?’’

You become even more confused. ‘’No?’’

Jace leans in a little closer. ‘’You must know, it is inappropriate for any selected to have another lover. It can lead to disqualification or worse, punishment.’’ He warns you, kindly of that. You know he does not mean to harm or threaten you.

You nod, thankful but you do want to clear things up.‘’I didn’t know that. But Prince Aemond and me only talked about Dornish statues.’’ Not very romantic, so why does your heart beat so fast?

Jacaerys scoff. ‘’Statues?’’ You can see that Aemond is likely the only history buff in his family. That must be lonely.

You smile, telling him the same thing you told Aemond. ‘’Yes, in Sunspear-’’

But this time, you get a deep sigh before Jace even rolls his eyes. ‘’Don’t you want to talk about something more exciting?’’ He suggests. 

You feel as if you have been hit in the face. You feel rejected and foolish. ‘’Like what?’’

He shrugs. ‘’Most girls tell me of their house, or their horses.’’ Their horses? You hear yourself think, and its not a pleasant thought. How…dull? And all of them? You bet that Floris told them to bring it up.

You repeat after him. ‘’Horses?’’

‘’You don’t like horses?’’ He asks. Horses terrify you.

‘’I don’t dislike them.’’ You say and it's the truth. Horses are beautiful from a distance. You just don't want to ride them. Or talk about them. ‘’I don’t like talking about horses. I don’t want to have dull meaningless conversation with you.’’

Jace straightens his back. ‘’That is part of your job, should you become my queen.’’ You feel your lips hang in a sorrowful line and for the first time you wonder if this is what you really want.

Jace notices your mood change quickly. ‘’But it's alright. We can talk about something else too. What is your favorite sweet?’’

You nod, accepting his attempts at winning your heart.  ‘’I like cupcakes.’’ Jacaerys takes a chocolate cupcake for you from the impressive cake stand, looking at it very briefly, inspecting it before handing it to you. ‘’These are my favorites. I have yet to taste anything else that taste as good as these.’’ That sounds promising. You clumsily bite the cupcake off, tasting the surprisingly good white chocolate filling. It tastes as good as he said it would, and your argument from earlier vanishes as snow that is basked in sunrays. ‘’It is really good.’’ You say, licking your fingers off when you think no one is watching. Jacaerys is amused by your actions, before slyly doing the same. 

Jacaerys seems a bit nervous, before he sighs after you both have finished your cupcakes. ‘’I’m sorry for being a little mean about Aemond earlier. I’ve been hearing disturbing news about him and his brother. I don’t see you girls as my cattle or my livestock, but I do feel responsible. You are here under my roof, for me. You put up with etiquette and court rules for me, the very least I can do, is protect you from men that want to harm you.’’ You notice your gaze swift between Jace and Aemond, who is now talking with an unknown silver-haired woman in a luscious green gown. That must be Helaena.

You feel foolish you even entertained the prince that long, or talked with them. ‘’Do you think Aemond is that malicious?’’You wonder.

Jace does not need long to answer that question. ‘’I know he is. They both are. If you are important to me, he wants to destroy you.’’ You find that a little extreme but Jace’s stern glare tells you there is nothing funny about this. ‘’Just be careful, Y/N. That’s all I ask.’’ And you nod, obedient as a good girl would. But your gaze kept stealing peaks at the forbidden prince, however.

This is part one, for now.

I hope you all liked it

Its different than what i usually write.

Reblogs/comments are welcome!:))

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader

[istadris]

Don't know if this was discussed before but here's a bowuigi idea.

Combining two beloved tropes of this ship :

Luigi disguised as Peach

Magical binding/marriage contract

And adding one of my personal favorites : mind control.

Taking advantage of Mario being away in another kingdom, Bowser captured "Peach" (who's wearing a mask/veil/whatever fools him long enough) and, having enough of being denied and thwarted before he can seduce Peach properly (which wouldn't work anyway, but Bowser ain't no quitter and has too much optimism), decides to "speed up things" by having Kamek hypnotise the princess into saying "yes" at the altar and sign a magical wedding contract so she will stay with him. Kamek's magic will ensure the princess believes she's madly in love with Bowser until the real feelings appear (as we mentioned before, Bowser is incredibly optimistic)

But.

Three unexpected things happen.

One : Bowser finally reveals his new bride's face to kiss her...what, is that Mario's brother ??

Two : the contract planned for the "bride" to be confined to the "husband" 's home for as long as the husband wished. By some convoluted loophole, it turns out Luigi is the one considered as the "husband" by the contract, and thus calls the shot on who stays where.

Three: Kamek can't dispel the love spell/hypnosis. No one can figure out why.

...And of course Bowser had to implement a clause in the contract so neither spouse can harm the other.

#super mario bros #bowuigi #miscellaneous mario madness #Ista writes #Yes I like hypnosis where it's unclear how much the ''victim'' is controlled and how much they're willing

[grigori77]

Reasons to LOVE Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

It's brand new in cinemas, so there are still plenty who ain't seen it, so if you're among 'em best skip this and just GO SEE IT, it's SO well worth it, genuinely it's one of the best new movies I've seen so far this year. Hope you love it as much as I did!

So, yeah, there you go - SPOILER WARNING, FOLKS!!! If you don't wanna get spoiled, RUN!!!

Still here? Okay, here we go then ...

This really is, UNAPOLOGETICALLY, a comedy. I mean yeah, this is a classic fantasy action adventure in the Willow, Krull or Ladyhawke mold, but it is also very enthusiastically POKING FUN at the classic conventions of the genre ... albeit CLEARLY done with great affection and love for the material, as only the best lampoons can be. So this is more The Princess Bride or Galaxy Quest than Your Highness or Spaceballs ...

Chris Pine is ALWAYS at his best when he's being FUNNY, so he is PERFECT here. Edgin is most definitely a bit of a douchebag, but he's the sweetest, most lovable douchebag you'll ever encounter.

Holga. Literally just EVERYTHING about Holga. She's my favourite character in this, this REALLY IS the best role that Michelle Rodriguez has EVER HAD, if you ask me. She's a total badass, a truly AMAZING FIGHTER, but I love that despite her dour demeanour she's actually quite sweet, gentle and really a great innocent in many ways. She's an absolute cinammon roll and must be protected at all costs.

OH MY GODS!!! All the easter eggs, SO MANY easter eggs ... FAR too many to count throughout, all the references and nods and winks to the game itself, all the spells and races and creatures and stuff ... but I love how the movie NEVER beats you over the head pointing any of it out, it just lets you enjoy it. So the proper fans will get a huge kick out of spotting it all, but casual viewers will just enjoy it as rich worldbuilding colour and flavour.

Seriously though, it's a D&D fan's DREAM!!! Not just the mimic, or the owlbear, or the gelatinous cube! SO MUCH to spot ...

Justice Smith's Simon gets THE CLEVEREST and best introduction in the film, I love the theatre scene, he's SO BAD at this while also simulataneously being really great. Totally sums up this gloriously clunky hot mess of a sorcerer ...

the opening is GENIUS, totally sets the movie up as it means to go on - the parole hearing is a brilliant comedic take on the scene-setting infodump which is brilliantly carried through in the way the movie delivers exposition in a fun way or just lets you absorb it through what's happening in each scene. This is the perfect, TEXTBOOK way to do it.

"That is one pudgy dragon!" LOL

Doric. Just EVERYTHING about Doric. Sophia Lillis' tiefling druid is a wonderful diminutive little action hero, so fiesty and capable. I love her. It's just a shame she's not primary coloured, I'd have loved it even more if she'd been blue, or red ...

The Wildshape Escape! XD Yeah, I love that, that's THE BEST set-piece in the whole movie, definitely, when Doric gets cught out spying and has to shapeshift on the fly to get away, and it all plays out in one immersive single shot that just leaves your heart in your mouth ...

Oh, the Speak With The Dead montage, that is comedy GOLD. Funniest scene in the whole movie. And with added payoff at the end! XD

Rege-Jean Page's Xenk Yendar. Oh boy, that paladin is something else. I love how LITERAL he is, he's like Drax in GOTG but much more intelligent. Y'know when Holga says: "You're not a lot of fun, are you?" to him? She's so wrong. I just wish there was more of him in this ...

The heist! Oh, the heist! So good ... the portal trick, it's great, love the way they did that, and then that HILARIOUS bard illusion distraction - Pine skipping the song like a broken record was just chef's kiss!

That wonderful wibbly-wobbly illusory reality thing whenever Simon tries to atune to the Helm ... wow, that is some spectacularly trippy shit. Granted, twice is fine for terms of pacing, but I could've done with a few more scenes of that, it's fascinating.

Hugh Grant really has just become a MASTER at playing smarmy, slimy duplicitous gits now, hasn't he? Forge is a reprehensible prick and I love it.

I love how they made Bradley Cooper a halfling for his cameo. They're never gonna let him live down the fact that he's now probably best known for playing a two-foot-tall talking racoon so forever after he will be a Short King.

Wow, Daisy Head's Sofina is a CRACKING villain, she's just SO CREEPY!!! I love how coolly menacing she is, a brilliant dark necromantic wizard that just makes your skin crawl. Especially at the end ... IS SHE a lich? Is that what they were doing there?

That whole big action climax, the showdown in the city centre is FIRE!!! It's so amazing, so brilliantly dynamic, with EVEN MORE great easter eggs! Simon and Sofina having an insanely awesome "arm wrestling" bout with Mage Hand versus Earthen Grasp (I think that's the spell, couldn't be sure), oh my gods! So cool ... and then the way they neutralised the threat! Brilliant.

Chloe Coleman's Kira is an absolutely adorable delight, and I think she's ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED in how pissed she is at Edgin for abandoning her. It makes the payoff when they finally make up so much better.

And that resurrection scene at the end? Yeah, sure, I saw that coming a mile off, but it was so well done, and they played it so well, that it was still SUCH a powerful scene even so. Just perfect.

Seriously, they just did this whole thing SO PERFECTLY. It's visually STUNNING, really it just looks AMAZING, and the action sequences are BRILLIANT but always feel entirely necessary for the story, which is how you want to do it. Best of all, though, is THE PACING!!! This is such a quick, breezy film, it just barrels along at a spectacular clip, so it never drags. Mark Kermode is right, even though this is two and a quarter hours long it doesn't FEEL LIKE IT, it feels like a super-trim 90-minute movie.

And it ties everything off nice and neat, too. Sure, there are definitely possibilities for the future, going forward if they make more, but if the movie DOES tank then it's fine, because this really does do a great job about feeling self-contained and telling its own complete story, so if we DON'T get more it won't be too big a disappointment ...

#dungeons and dragons honor among thieves #the D&D movie #dungeons and dragons movie #chris pine #edgin darvis #michelle rodriguez #holga kilgore #justice smith #simon aumar #sophia lillis #doric the druid #regé jean page #xenk yendar #hugh grant #forge fitzwilliam #chloe coleman #kira darvis #daisy head #sofina the red wizard #reasons to love #reasons to love the D&D movie #2023 in movies

[artist-issues]

A little late, but reading your take on Enchanted made me remember how much I love that movie. What are your thoughts on the rest of it? Like say, what do the Prince and Nancy represent? What about the villains? I’m curious how they fit into the allegory

Prince Edward is just like Giselle in the sense that he does what people accuse Disney Princes of doing, and it's funny--but it's rewarded by the narrative, because it's actually a good thing.

People think a Disney Prince is just some dumb hunk with no personality, because he's "just there to be the obligatory love interest so the girl can't save herself." But that's a twisted, hollow way to look at it.

Prince Edward is

Active -- he actually does something, not just in his spare time but when faced with a problem or a dilemma. Doesn't matter if it's troll-hunting or braving a strange world to rescue his bride or turning on a dime to fight his own step-mother when she turns out to be evil. He actually acts.

Keeps His Commitments -- When Prince Eric commits to Ariel he commits; jumps in the water to fight a sea-goddess single-handedly. When Prince Charming says he'll give his heart to Snow White but then she disappears, he won't rest till he's found her. When Prince Edward's fiancée disappears, he won't stop searching for her, either.

Genuinely Cares About the Princess -- People act like Princes in Disney movies are just obligatory--they don't actually care about the girl, there's no real tension or getting to know each other or whatever. That's such bull, obviously. In fairy tales, you cram a lot of nuance into a little scene. The Prince meets Snow White singing at a well and promises his heart to her; but it's after he hears her singing about her heart's fondest desires, after he observes that she's surrounded by doves that aren't afraid of her, after he notices she's just a scullery maid; and he still chooses her. Disney appeased everybody by adding in more rom-com moments with later Princes, like Aladdin and the Beast, but truthfully, Princes do what Princesses do; they know what virtues they're looking for in a good soulmate, so they don't need much to recognize it when it crosses their paths. Then they commit. Edward is willing to go on a date with Giselle. When she grows, he's confused, but he'll go with her. She doesn't sing with him anymore but that doesn't mean he ditches her. When she's cursed and be can't wake her he's 100% onboard with Robert doing it--because it doesn't have to be him, he just cares about her.

Has Just As Much Faith As the Princess -- One of the things Princes and Princesses use as the litmus test of whether or not they're soulmates in Disney movies is if they're both believers in the same Idea. Ariel and Eric are the perfect example. They both believe in something that everyone around them thinks is totally crazy. Eric believes in the fated, Right Girl. Ariel believes the Surface World can be worth loving. Those two things get united when they meet each other. Prince Edward longs to find the woman who's his other half, a companion who fits into his heart and makes his life more than just one quest after the other. (And he's so sweet about it.) He's very romantic. Giselle's been dreaming of her true companion, too. They have that in common, that faith that somebody right for them is out there. It just...so happens that that person isn't each other. But they're not wrong that someone is out there, which is why he is rewarded by winding up with Nancy.

Anyway. If Giselle is the Disney movie, so is Prince Edward.

And yeah, he's not quick on the uptake, he's super confident that everything he's doing is right, and he's definitely convinced that Nathaniel actually likes him. But that is okay. Because Edward is uncomplicated. He knows that what he's setting out to do is Right, so what bothers him is never "people here are mean" or "I'm not the hero in this world." Did you notice that? He's never bothered when he finds out he's not the hero. He's only bothered when the idea that Good won't win is threatened.

He's the first one to turn and look at Robert and go "unless...!" excitedly when he realizes his own kiss isn't working. No trace of bitterness. No suspicion. Just eager to solve the problem.

That's why he's great. His confidence came from being the champion of Goodness. Doing the right thing. He doesn't care if he's not the one who wins. He just cares that it's someone Good who's winning.

Then you have Nancy, who is the first of the "normal" people from our world to really give in to the idea of "True Love's Kiss" being a viable solution, right on the spot. Meaning there was space in her brain to believe in it.

I guess if I had to try to distill it, I'd say Nancy is just the reverse-Giselle. In the allegory (it's not all one-to-one) I would say...if Giselle (and to a lesser extent, Edward) is the Disney movie, and Robert is the skeptic, Nancy is us. She's not quite Giselle, not quite Robert...she's someone who wants to believe that the Disney Philosophy is true, but the problem is, nobody in our world believes it or acts like it.

She's looking for a fairy tale but she's stuck in our world. The moments where she's happy with Robert are moments when he's doing something an open-hearted, genuine, selfless and chivalrous Disney Prince would do. The kind of guy who knows who he is and knows what's Good and values Love, so he isn't ashamed or insecure to come right out and declare it.

Gentleness is power, under control. A man in love should have no fear of vulnerability, which again, takes faith—because love isn't about you. It's selfless. Why worry about how telling a girl you love her will make you look, will make you feel? So what if she rejects you; you thought she was worth loving, you gave her that enormous compliment--so what if she doesn't return it? You know who you are. You didn't need her validation--that was never the point of the love-declaration--it was for her. You kindly gave her the world's best compliment, good job, now on to other worthy things. It would've been great if she wanted the same outcome of that love as you did, but she didn't, and that's great too, because it was never that much about you. So you don't have to be hurt, angry, embarrassed, jealous, or any of the anti-love things we associate with bogus unrequited "love."

But in our world, men don't act like that anymore. Because it's all about you. Can't tell the girl how you feel because she might hurt you. How would you be hurt? By finding out she doesn't feel the way you would prefer her to feel about you, by mocking what you've deemed precious, etc. It's all about you, you, you, fear fear fear, etc.

Still, you can tell Nancy thinks she got as close as she could to the fairy-tale guy with Robert because in her first scene, when she finds Robert and Giselle together, she goes on that rant about how she thought he was "sensitive" and "protecting Morgan." Those are the traits she's attracted to; the idea that he wasn't protecting himself, he was protecting his daughter--the idea that he was careful with emotions for other people's sake, not his own--that he cared about emotions at all.

But that's not what it was, it was self-protection, over-planning. Still, the second he's willing to send her flowers or make any kind of heart-on-his sleeve, straightforward gesture of affection, she is SO ready to believe in him again.

She's the grown up who wants to find the Disney fairy tale in "real life" and she's doing the best she can with what she can find. Kinda like a lot of us who grew up on Disney and didn't want to accept the derisive cynical mocking of Disney as we got older, but what could we do?

But good news! It's real! The Good, the Beautiful, the True, exists, and it comes for her.

Then you've got Narissa, the villainess.

She's interesting because she's totally the opposite of everything the movie says is Good. Giselle and Edward wear their hearts on their sleeves—Narissa manipulates people's fondest desires for her own gain. Robert needs to learn to have faith—Narissa believes everybody is out to take what's hers.

Edward gives the gift of love freely, first to Giselle, then, unshaken when she doesn't give him the same, to Nancy—Narissa takes the adoration of people like Nathaniel and treats them like garbage in return.

I also think Pip is important, and it's important that Narissa is defeated by him.

She's brought down by the tiny chipmunk who's been treated with true kindness and friendship by the Princess. The chipmunk who can talk and understand what's going on and be useful, even in a world where people like Robert think there's no such thing. Pip is the unlikely "something wonderful will happen" in our world that Robert didn't believe in. He's the little, fairy tale element that nobody could plan for or calculate or control, coming in to save the day.

How very Disney of him. Ya'll get off of Wish. Disney's tribute to 100 years of fairy tale animation? It has nothing on Enchanted.

#Enchanted #enchanted meta #meta #analysis #character analysis #Prince Edward #Giselle #robert #Amy Adams #mcdreamy #narissa #Queen Narissa #pup #pip #Disney #the real Disney #Ariel #Eric #fairy tales #romance #romcom #Wish hate #wish 2023 #Disney wish #wish movie #wish

[literatecowboy]

The King With No Name

2. An Unwilling Bride

Part 3 is here!

Read part 1 here Summary: König - the king of Caldera - has been called upon by your father to choose a bride from his daughters in order to establish an alliance to keep peace over the lands they rule. When he arrives, he is enraptured by you, your father’s eldest child - an unconventional woman by all standards. He pursues your hand in marriage, doing his best to make you fall in love with him like he has fallen in love with you - much to your dismay Author's Notes: I wasn't sure if anyone asked to be added to the taglist for this one so I didn't do one, but I'm willing to do one if people want to be notified when new parts go up Warnings: Arranged marriage, eventual smut, pining, dogged pursuit of reader’s love and affection

-----

You got up early the next morning and tucked food from the kitchen away and into a sack before heading down to the stables and hurriedly saddling your horse. At this hour, you were the only one down there, so you were bound to dodge König’s…strange method of courtship. Before the sun even rose you were riding away from the castle, your horse huffing in protest as you plodded quietly across the cobblestones and out the gate. 

Despite your best efforts though, König had seen you leaving through the window, having been up all night, unable to sleep with thoughts of you clouding his mind. He had spun your hunting knife between his fingers, caressing the grip and imagining how small your hand was compared to his. The blade was sharp - the small nick at the base of his throat he had gotten last night was enough to prove that. 

As he watched you disappear onto the plains he laid back down on his bed and sighed softly, running the flat end of the blade against his lips and kissing it. He would return it to you later. 

He dined with your family and the gathered nobility eagerly at breakfast that morning and suggested getting away for a while with a hunt. Your father, though too frail to go himself, urged Lord Henry and Lord Ferdinand to go with König and they set off on their horses after they had eaten. The two lords talked as they rode, following König as he, unbeknownst to them, tracked your horse’s hoofprints across the plains and towards the forest. 

“I’d like to ask the King for Princess Lydia’s hand in marriage sometime soon. I’ve been courting her for some time and I just cannot wait longer - she is the love of my life and I must begin my life with her.” Lord Henry admitted dreamily, a smile warming his features. 

“You’re a lucky man, Henry, that the woman you love loves you in return. To wish to court someone only to be treated like a friend…it is a pain like no other.” Ferdinand admitted, palming an identical charm to the one he had given you in his pocket. It was quiet for a moment. 

“Sir, have you gotten to know Princess Sadie very well yet?” Ferdinand asked, calling out to König. 

“No,” he stated plainly. “I have eyes only for the other one.” Henry stiffened. 

“You seek to marry Lydia?” he asked incredulously, his face paling. 

“No,” König said plainly. It was Ferdinand’s turn to stiffen, and Henry looked shocked. 

The sound of approaching hooves and voices startled you from where you lay against a tree reading and snacking from the food you’d packed earlier. You sat up as you recognized the voices, and when you heard König speak, your heart began to race. 

“Hello, maus.” he bid you as he slid from his horse and strode towards you. You stood and backed away, watching him warily. You were unarmed - your bow was tied to your horse’s saddle as she grazed feet away. 

“Did you follow me?” you growled, glancing behind him at Ferdinand and Henry. 

“You traitor.” you snapped coldly at Ferdinand. 

“I wished only to return your knife to you from when you lent it to me last night, but you scampered away before the sun rose.”

Ferdinand’s face went red, but he said nothing as he slid from his horse. Henry remained mounted, still looking shocked as he looked from you to König, to Ferdinand as he advanced upon you. 

“I thought I told you to leave me alone.” you quipped, snatching the blade back from him and jamming it back into its sheath.

“No, you merely asked me to get out,” he said plainly. 

“What’s going on? He came to see you last night?” Ferdinand demanded, stepping between you and König. 

“I am merely doing as your father asked - I am choosing a bride from his daughters,” König said softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wilting flower, holding it out gently. Ferdinand snatched it from him and König scowled, his eyes hardening. 

“She’s not interested in you. She’s off limits,” Ferdinand growled, throwing it down. 

“I can fight my own battles, Ferdinand. You’re the one who led him here.” you snapped angrily, bending down to gather your things from the grass. König knelt to help you and you snatched your book from his grasp, finding your horse and tucking your things away. 

“But I didn’t–”

“Ferdinand, just leave me alone. All of you leave me alone.” you snapped, climbing onto your horse and riding away back toward the castle. König was quick to follow. His large, black stallion was much quicker than your little tan mare so he caught up quickly, slowing his pace once he was beside you. You glared over at him as you rode, scowling. 

“What do you want now?” you snapped, urging your horse on. 

“I want to get to know you, maus. You are enchanting - I must know more of you.” he urged, his horse keeping pace with yours. 

“My life is none of your business,” you grumbled. König sat up straighter in the saddle. 

“Tonight, I intend to tell your father that I have chosen you as my bride. We will be married before the next sunset, liebeling,” he said sternly. You huffed. 

“My father will not agree to this,” you said firmly, looking away from him. “You must marry Sadie. I am not for sale.”

Henry and Ferdinand rode together a distance behind you, Ferdinand stewing in his anger. 

“He can’t do this, Henry. I’ve got to figure out a way to stop him from taking her away. She’s supposed to marry me!” he cried, watching as his love and the man determined to marry her rode closer to the castle. Henry shrugged. 

“Who knows if it’ll even happen? There’s still time before the wedding is set to take place. He has time to change his mind.”

—

König did not change his mind. 

That night at dinner he announced to your father his choice: he would marry you the following day and whisk you away back to Caldera to be his queen. Your father had shocked everyone at the table by accepting the arrangement. 

You stood, seething in your parent’s chambers later that evening, glaring your father down as your mother tried to placate you.

“How dare you pledge my hand to another without my permission? After the destiny you raised me to achieve? I thought that you expected me to rule after you passed as the queen of this place! I will not abandon the people that I have grown to love!” you shouted, slamming your fist down on the dresser as your father sat by the fireplace. 

“This game of yours has grown as old as me, daughter. I was mistaken to allow you so much freedom when you were a girl, and I was mistaken to believe you would be capable of holding power after my death. It is time for you to learn your place in this world. You will marry König and you will return with him to his homeland. My word is final. He said. 

“Darling, it won’t be that bad. König is a strong man. He will take good care of you.” your mother said, attempting to soothe you. 

“I need no protector! My job was to be your protector! What has come over you? Have you not forgotten his reputation? The thousands he’s slain, the cities he’s burned, the kings he’s buried for his own sake? You are dooming me to a life of misery and slavery and violence!” you shrieked, folding your arms across your chest. 

“That is enough–”

“You will send me away from my home, into the arms of a violent king, all for what? Money? An alliance? You are weak, father. Pathetic. Who will rule after you? Without me, your legacy will crumble.” you spat. 

“Lord Henry or Lord Ferdinand will be my successor. They are capable, proper men, and I trust them to use the power that comes with the crown wisely–”

“Damn you to hell, father. And damn you too for allowing this.” you thrust your finger at your mother and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. 

Your sisters were in the hall when you emerged from the bedroom, standing quietly, no doubt having heard the whole exchange. Lydia looked at you pityingly and Sadie just glared at you coldly. 

“It will be alright, sister…” Lydia murmured, embracing you gently as tears flowed down your cheeks and you choked out a sob. Sadie said nothing, only scowled and turned on her heel, storming down the hall and towards her bedroom. You gently pried yourself away from Lydia, taking her hands. 

“I will return to you and Sadie. I will not leave you behind,” you murmured, trying your best to stifle your crying. She nodded, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. 

“Tell Sadie I’m sorry. That I love her very much - I never meant for this to happen,” you said softly. 

“She’ll be okay,” Lydia murmured, squeezing your hands gently before turning to head to her bed chamber, the door shutting quietly behind her. 

You stood quietly in the hallway for a moment, tears rolling down your cheeks as you strained to hear anything in the silence. Sadie cried quietly in her room down the hall and sadness tore through your heart. 

You made your way slowly down the stairs and outside into the courtyard, doing your best to memorize every last detail of the castle you once believed would be yours to rule. As you made your way outside and into the garden, footsteps sounded behind you and you looked over your shoulder. As Ferdinand approached you you sighed, slumping your shoulders in defeat. 

“You’ve taken my crown, Ferdinand. Is that what you wanted?” you asked after a moment, sitting down on a marble bench and looking at the trees while they blew gently in the wind. Ferdinand sat down beside you and sighed. 

“No,” he said after a moment.

“It’s between you and Henry now. Did my father tell you already?” you asked. Ferdinand sighed. 

“He spoke to us before dinner. So…yes,” he admitted. You swallowed thickly. 

“Then I might have to face you on the battlefield someday because I will not let my people go so easily,” you said coldly. Ferdinand stiffened. 

“Or you could marry me,” he said, turning to look at you slowly. 

“I have no say in what happens to me any longer. I suppose I never did actually,” you said stiffly. 

“Your father said no. I’ve asked. I wanted to spare you…this. But we can still do it.” Ferdinand admitted with a sigh. 

“So this was his plan all along,” you murmured. It was quiet for several minutes. Ferdinand shifted suddenly and knelt before you on the garden path, taking your hands. 

“I have to confess something to you. For years I’ve–”

“Maus?” König’s voice split through the night air as he rounded the corner and approached where you were sitting his brow furrowing. Ferdinand rose sharply, turning and walking away without another word, König glaring after him.

“Maus, it’s cold outside. Come in,” he said, offering you his hand as he reached you. You rose without his help and turned away, striding back down the path and toward the castle. He followed dutifully, ghosting his hand across your back as he guided you inside. 

“I can walk myself from here,” you muttered as you stepped inside, pulling away from König and heading up the staircase toward your room. 

“May I come in with you, maus?” he asked, ignoring your plea and following you to your door, standing in the doorway as you entered. 

“No. Go away,” you said tiredly, too exhausted and crushed to fight. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes and he reached out with one large hand to brush them away gently. 

“Gute nacht, maus,” he murmured before pulling away and leaving you alone in the dark.

—

The next morning you slept in, unwilling to budge from bed until the sun came up. The churchbells were ringing and you could hear bustling in the halls. Eventually, you were roused from your bed and forced to get up. Your mother forced you to bathe and supervised you as two maids stuffed you into a dress intended for one of your sisters. The three of you were about the same size, though, so to your chagrin, the wedding was not delayed to fix the dress. 

Heeled shoes you struggled to walk in were pushed onto your feet and your hair was made up. Before you could blink you were ushered downstairs and into a waiting carriage. Your mother and father entered shortly after and climbed in across from you, neither meeting your eyes. 

Once you reached the church you were assisted out and onto the cobblestone streets. Your father took up your arm and the doors were opened by two guards. 

Music drifted out of the church in a sickening melody and your father practically had to drag you forward. Your feet felt like cement bricks as you entered the church and felt the eyes of all upon you. You refused to look forward - knowing König was standing there, dressed sharply in ornamented armor. 

Ferdinand stood in the crowd and your eyes locked with his. Sorrow clouded his features as you passed him by, tearing your gaze away from his and focusing your eyes back on the ground. When you reached the altar, König and your father exchanged words you couldn’t hear. Your hand was placed into his and you stepped up the short stairs, finding your place in front of the priest. 

You could not force yourself to smile. You kept your eyes firmly fixed on König’s shoulder as he squeezed your hands and looked down on you, radiating warmth. The ceremony flew by in a blur, and you were so distracted that you had to be prompted to say “I do” twice before you realized you needed to say something. 

“I do,” you mumbled after a second, looking at the floor. The priest continued, but you couldn’t drag your focus away from his words no matter how hard you tried. 

“And do you, König, swear to love and protect this woman from now until the end of your life, through sickness and in health?”

“I do.”

The world blurred again and the priest kept prattling on. And then König was pulling you close to him, lifting his hood–

Soft lips found yours, kissing you gently. He cradled the back of your head with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist. You did not kiss back.

#könig #konig #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #cod #konig modern warfare #konig fanfiction #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #mw2

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Now I’m Covered In You [Chapter 2: Dusk]

Series summary: Aemond is a prince of England. You are married to his brother. The Wars of the Roses are about to begin, and you have failed to fulfill your one crucial responsibility: to give the Greens a line of legitimate heirs. Will you survive the demands of your family back in Navarre, the schemes of the Duke of Hightower, the scandals of your dissolute husband, the growing animosity of Daemon Targaryen…and your own realization of a forbidden love?

Series title is a lyric from: Ivy by Taylor Swift.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Word count: 4.0k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @ipostwhatifeel​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ @quartzs-posts​ @tclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @chainsawsangel​ @itsabby15​ @serrhaewin​ @padfooteyes​ @arcielee​ @travelingmypassion​ @what-is-originality​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @blackdreamspeaks​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @jvpit3rs​ @sarcastic-halfling-princess​ @flowerpotmage​ @ladylannisterxo​ @thelittleswanao3​ @elsolario​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @girlwith-thepearlearring​ @minttea07​​

Let me know if you’d like to be added! 💜

The girl is from Milan, and Daeron is enamored with her: bright-eyed, beaming, blood rosy in his cheeks. Her name is Nicolosa, though she is adamant that everyone should call her Nico. She is one of those effortlessly informal people. She laughs too loudly and says all the wrong things, too-honest observations that would be offensive if the person breathing life into them was anyone but her. She spins around the hall as violins and lutes play, swinging from the willing arms of chuckling noblemen, an aisle of light in a goldenrod gown, the sun made flesh. She has the luxury of dancing until breathless, until she glows with the sheen of exertion. She could not possibly be carrying a child; she will not be wedded and bedded for another year.

This is a great triumph for Otto the Duke of Hightower. Milan under the House of Sforza is an enviable ally, wealthy and sophisticated, and eager for friends who will one day be willing to assist them in resisting French encroachment. This is the deal that the Duke of Hightower has struck. True, Daeron is still rather young to take a bride. True, Nico’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Milan, were insistent that they would concede to the match only if the marriage and consummation was postponed until next August. True, this does not resolve the immediate concern of Aegon’s lack of an heir. But it is another tile of a mosaic, another thread in the patchwork of the Greens’ objectives, another brick in a castle wall from which boiling oil could be poured down upon invaders.

The Duke of Hightower is accepting warm congratulations from the nobility of Southern England: Norfolk, Gloucester, Somerset, Buckingham, Suffolk, Clarence, Exeter. Those of the North—Lancaster, York, Stark—shun him. They stand instead with Rhaenyra, admiring her two eldest sons, pretending not to notice how little they resemble the late Laenor Velaryon. The Crown Princess is wearing black accented with maroon, as she almost always is. She sends a small, reassurance-seeking smile to where Daemon sits at the high table, and he raises his cup to her, his face sly, arrogant, proud. They love each other, this is clear; it may not be an especially conventional love, and it may be a love that emboldens rather than tames, but it is love nonetheless. This does not make your resignation to your own fate any easier. Queen Alicent, laughing as she joins Daeron and Nico dancing, is dressed in dark green to match her father and her children. You often wear purple, the color of royalty…just to remind people that you still deserve to be here.

You are at the high table too, albeit on the opposite side from Daemon; the Blacks are always seated to King Viserys’ right, while the Greens are on his left. Aemond doesn’t dance, you aren’t permitted to, Aegon is too drunk. He’s apparently not too drunk to leer, however; his bleary storm-blue eyes follow Lady Joanna Montford as she glides across the floor like a shark through surf, flashing luring eyes and flirtatious simpers. You’re a better dancer than she is, but of course that doesn’t matter, because no one ever gets to see you do it. Aegon won’t go so far as to touch her in public—he would consider that discourteous, you think—but he’s sleeping with her, and everyone knows he’s sleeping with her, and you can’t even truly wish he’d stop because you don’t want him in your bed anyway. But the humiliation of it…the hopelessness…that is more difficult to come to terms with.

“Portugal,” Daemon tells Aegon nonchalantly. “You could have married some princess from Portugal.”

Aegon guzzles his wine and says nothing. Aemond—scribbling messy lines of black ink onto parchment at the end of the table—glances up at you and then back down again.

Daemon continues: “The Infanta Maria was wed around the same time you were, and she’s produced a more than satisfactory son for her husband. Hugely fat, practically hoglike, I’ve seen portraits.”

“Daemon, please,” King Viserys scolds mildly, smiling as he watches Rhaenyra mingle with nobles who wouldn’t mind burning you alive if it meant the Blacks would ascend more seamlessly to the throne. The king has her son Joffrey in the chair next to him and has enthralled the boy with stories of jousts, hunts, feasts, Christmases and May Days. You wonder if he’s ever shown such interest in any of his children with Alicent. If he has, you aren’t aware of it.

“Or Savoy,” Daemon says. “Not as cultured as Milan, this cannot be denied, but of great strategic significance geographically. One foot in France, the other in Italy. I’ve heard wonderful things about Princess Louise. Very athletic, very…” He smirks, biting into a pomegranate. Ruptured seeds spurt juice like the gleam of rubies. “Flexible.”

“Oh, look, Prince Daemon.” You point into the crowded hall. “I think your wife is beckoning you to join her. Your third wife, I mean, the most recent one. The one who also happens to be your niece.”

“Or Naples!” Daemon exclaims, as if it has just occurred to him, as if he hasn’t been waiting to torment you like a wolf shadows a wounded stag, saliva filling up its mouth, fangs bared and dripping. Southerners detest Daemon because they fear he is mad; but that’s exactly what the North likes about him. “Or perhaps even—would we dare to hope?—a princess of France! Think of it! The poor Duke of Hightower would not know what to do with himself, he would be so delighted. At his age, the shock might just kill him.”

“Daemon,” King Viserys warns again.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be giving us so many ideas,” Aegon says, slurping his wine. “Aemond is still unspoken for, and now we have a tidy list of candidates to consider. How thoughtful of you.”

“Or you simply could have made the same arrangement that you did but in reverse,” Daemon goes on as if no one else has spoken at all. “You could have taken a Castilian bride, and Helaena could have been shipped off to the Pyrenees, and your circumstances would be wildly different than they are now. Princess Lucia would have been the right age for you. Do you want to know what she gave to her new husband this past Christmas?”

“I surely don’t,” Aegon replies.

Daemon grins beneath glinting eyes. “Twins.”

“Enough,” Aemond says, dark and quiet like midnight.

Now Daemon addresses you, resting his elbows on the table. “How many more chances do you think they’ll give you, Navarre, before some providential technicality that voids your marriage contract is discovered and you are discarded of in a nunnery?” Another bite of the pomegranate; another freckling of bloodlike red across the tablecloth. “The globe is crawling with royal women, they’re fish in a barrel, why would anyone jeopardize their dynastic ambitions for you?”

“My wife belongs where I am,” Aegon says: a fact, a dare. “And I will hear no more of it.”

You look at him, grateful but a little stunned. He does this sometimes. He will choose a seemingly arbitrary moment to make a show of loyalty, and then he will never mention it again. He doesn’t return your glance. Instead, he picks apart a roasted chicken carcass with his fingers and resumes staring at Lady Joanna Montford with his dazed, watery eyes. Aemond, engrossed in his writing, hasn’t eaten much tonight. Neither have you; but there’s a reason for that.

“Where you are,” Daemon muses, raising his strange white eyebrows. “Well, I hope she enjoys brothels.”

You fling back: “Like the one you fondled the Crown Princess in?”

“A baseless rumor,” Daemon replies, but he can’t smother the flare of wicked pride in his eyes.

“Will you stop it?!” the king roars at both of you. Joffrey gazes up at him with awe, like he’s seen a falling star or a dragon or the face of God. “This is supposed to be a joyous occasion, a royal betrothal, and you can’t conduct yourselves appropriately for one night—?!”

“What are they squabbling about?” the Duke of Hightower asks as he approaches the table. He can summon nothing more condemnatory than half-serious annoyance; his mood is too lofty, his victory too fresh. Behind him in the festive ruckus, Queen Alicent and Rhaenyra are exchanging awkward compliments and trying to ignore all the enmity that has stacked up between them since the king married his daughter’s lifelong companion and started producing white-haired children with her. Jace is dancing with Baela, Luke with Rhaena; Daeron and Nico have found themselves alone in a corner, giggling as candlelight glows hot and golden on their flushed cheeks.

Rather than answering, the king merely rolls his eyes and sighs, exasperated.

“You must be overjoyed, Otto,” Daemon says. “Another friend on the Continent. And yet, they are awfully far away, don’t you think?”

The Duke of Hightower smiles tightly. “Ships travel fast.”

“Ah, perhaps, though not faster than word from here to the Scottish border.”

“The Milanese girl will make a lovely bride for young Daeron, Otto,” King Viserys praises. He has either successfully deluded himself into believing that the whole of the realm will miraculously coalesce behind Rhaenyra upon his death, or he is determined to ignore the catastrophe that will ensue once he slips, gleefully ignorant, off into the afterlife.

Daemon nods. “Yes. Buxom, vivacious, amiable, she will be a fine mother someday. Unlike certain other people among us.”

Aegon says around a mouthful of chicken: “Grandsire, Prince Daemon was kind enough to point out all the other advantageous matches still at our disposal. Since we haven’t monopolized our bloodline by marrying exclusively immediate relatives.”

The Duke of Hightower chuckles. “Yes, I do sincerely hope that Jace and Luke’s offspring don’t all end up with fifteen fingers or gills or some such thing.”

“Fortunately, Harwin Strong’s blood should dilute the lineage,” you say.

Daemon turns towards you, twisting in his chair, grinning cruelly. “Gills or not, at least they’ll have children.”

You can’t think of anything to say back. Perhaps there is nothing to say. The Duke of Hightower and Aegon both avert their eyes. King Viserys has returned his attention to young Joffrey and is teaching him a prayer to invoke the protection of Saint George. Only Daemon looks at you; and Aemond watches him, quill hovering in midair, his sole blue eye a blaze of cold fire. You push out your chair and rise from the table, fleeing to one of the rooms adjacent to the exuberant, cheerful hall. You’re happy for Daeron and Nico, truly you are. But pain has a way of feeling heavier than joy, doesn’t it? It grips onto your ankles and drags you down into depths that nobody else can see.

The room is small and empty, the music muffled by the walls. Through the stained glass windows trickle in beams of pink-lavender light as dusk falls over Westminster Palace. And you stand there alone in the twilight, thinking of the past and the future and time itself, a ghost that will always be made of more secrets than answers.

You hear the door open behind you. “I’ll return to the festivities in a moment,” you say to the intruder, trying to keep the emotion from your voice.

“No need,” Aemond replies softly.

You wheel, and there he is, walking to meet you in the vanishing daylight. He takes your left hand in his and settles his right lightly, modestly, on your waist. “What—?” And then you understand.

Dancing. Here, where no one can see to forbid or ridicule. He’s come to take me dancing.

You smile up at him. “I’m not supposed to be doing this.”

“We’ll go very slowly.”

And slowly would be an understatement: you and Aemond move together in dawdling, careful steps, rotating like seasons, like the phases of the moon. He smells like he always does, of work and effort: smoke, leather, that scent he wears that is dark and woodsy and with an edge like a knife. His hands are calloused from sword sparring. Yours feel soft and helpless in his; they weren’t always so fragile, but they are now. “I thought you hated me,” you tell him.

“I’ve never hated you.”

“But you ignored me. For an entire year after I arrived in England, you ignored me.”

“I kept my distance. That’s very different from ignoring.”

“Alright, but why keep your distance at all?”

Aemond hesitates. “I am not in the habit of allowing myself to be noticed.”

“Because you fear people will see through the armor you’re wearing?” And when he abruptly stops dancing, you add: “I don’t mean that unkindly. I’m the same way. I wear all sorts of masks.”

He studies you in the lilac light. His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips to your throat. And then he resumes the unhurried dance. “There’s nothing about you worth hiding.”

You spin away from him and then return to be caught. “And you think you are a trove of scandalous secrets, Prince Aemond? Is that what’s in all those poems you won’t let me read?”

“If they were any good, I’d let you read them.”

“But you have the disposition of a genuine poet. Enigmatic, perceptive…” Alluring. Beautiful. You cast those thoughts away like coins into a wishing well. “Graceful.”

“So the dancing isn’t too terrible. I don’t do it often, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t do it ever to my knowledge. And no, not terrible at all.”

“I move best when holding a sword, not a princess.”

“I used to have callouses like yours, you know,” you say. “My palms and fingers were covered in them.”

“Because you sparred with your brothers,” Aemond remembers.

“For hours and hours. Especially with Alonzo. He’s the exact opposite of you, short and stocky and loud, with dark curls and heavy feet. And his poetry would send a lady sprinting in the other direction.”

“Do you miss it? Terrorizing men with swords?”

“Of course. I was almost somewhat good at that, unlike everything I’m tasked with here.”

Aemond grins, broad and mischievous. “Let’s have a demonstration then.” He releases your hand, goes to the door that leads to a stairwell, and waits patiently for you to join him.

This is improper. This is disobedient. But what has being obedient gotten you lately?

You follow Aemond through the doorway, down the stone steps, and out into the courtyard illuminated by dusk like amber, tiger’s eye, amethyst, rose quartz. It is empty except for the two of you; the rest of the palace is thoroughly occupied with drinking, dancing, and murderous scheming. It is a wonder with as lethal as the world is that women are meant to be so powerless. Aemond trots across the grass towards the blacksmith’s forge at the far end of the courtyard, then returns with two swords. He passes you the lighter one.

“How does it feel?” he asks you.

You twirl the sword a few times, admittedly rather inexpertly. “Wonderful. But I’m very out of practice.”

“Fear not. We’ll take this slow as well.” He taps his blade against yours, so tenderly it’s laughable; the sound it makes is blunt and low. Still, you’re both smiling as you circle each other, striking out with intentionally ineffectual thrusts and lunges, blocking, parrying. “Your footwork is excellent,” Aemond notes.

“It used to be better. But I appreciate your compliment. You’re more talented than Alonzo. Then again, you probably spend much less time skipping lessons to chase women around.”

“Undoubtedly,” Aemond says in a tone you can’t decipher. Then he asks, interest piqued: “What sorts of masks do you wear?”

You shrug, your blade skating down the length of his. “All sorts.”

Aemond parries. “I’d be interested to know.”

“A genuine poet would be astute enough to sift out the truth from the lies.”

“So lie to me,” Aemond says, his stare direct and bold, his sword balanced in one hand and pointed at your ribs, your heart. “And we shall find out if I can tell.”

You side-step him, thinking of frivolous diversions. “I love English ale and drink it all the time.”

“Lie. Apple cider.”

The blades clang. “My favorite color is, dutifully, green.”

“Lie. Red, like the flag of Navarre.”

And like blood. “It’s beginning to lose its charm,” you confide in Aemond.

“Don’t do that,” he says severely. “Don’t let them take something you’re proud of away from you.”

You consider him as stars rise in a violet sky. “Why are you encouraging my rebellious inclinations? You don’t give the impression of being much of a rule breaker.”

“I don’t see what good can come from you being denied any source of happiness,” he says simply. “Go on. Let’s have another attempt at a lie.”

You block Aemond’s benign, cautious swing as you circle him. “I’m pregnant again.”

Aemond halts; every muscle in his body goes still and inflexible. And he knows immediately that you’re telling the truth. “I’m…I’m very glad to hear that,” he manages at last.

You laugh fleetingly, cynically. “You can’t even properly congratulate me. No one can. Because everything’s gone so horribly thus far, people don’t want to get their hopes up.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Not yet. But I can recognize the first signs by now.” Constant low-level nausea, difficulty waking in the morning, dull cramping. You force a thin smile. “At least your brother won’t need to visit my bed for a while.”

“You don’t find pleasure with him? Is Aegon not…” Aemond searches for the right word, nervous, bashful. Hot blooms of blood appear in his cheeks. “Attentive to you?”

“It’s not his fault. He tries, really. He’s never been selfish or rough. It is entirely my own deficiency. I’m just not…at ease with him, I suppose. I can’t relax enough. I can’t reach…well…” Euphoria? A climax? A peak? You know what euphemisms others use, but it’s difficult to describe something you’ve never experienced before.

Aemond nods, meaning that he understands, that you don’t have to wrench the words out of you like entrails from a slaughtered animal.

“I know that other women can,” you say, tapping your blade against his. “That their husbands are well-matched with them and that they enjoy great pleasure. It’s difficult for me to accept that isn’t something I’ll ever get to have myself. At least…I don’t believe I’ve ever had it.”

“I think you’d know if you had.”

“Oh, and you’re an expert in a woman’s pleasure, are you? As an unmarried prince?” Your voice is casual and teasing; but the thought of him with a lover is like a bolt of lightning. It pains you, it paralyzes you, it hits you without any warning.

“Years ago, Aegon paid for a woman to…initiate me,” he explains. “Several times. He meant it as an act of compassion, I think. I was speechless around anyone I found desirable.”

Your nausea swells from a ripple to a wave. “Oh. I see.”

“It’s not something that I especially wanted at the time, and it’s not something that I have cared to repeat since. But it was very…informative.”

He gives you an infinitesimal little half-smile, and something passes between you as the last threads of dusk are unwoven from the sky and night engulfs Westminster Palace, something like a promise, a note, a whisper. The queasiness in your belly vanishes and is replaced by something else: a sensation like falling, like wanting. You are overcome by an ache to say something, though you don’t know what.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the Duke of Hightower bellows, striding out into the courtyard. Aemond takes several swift steps away from you and hurls his sword to the ground. You toss yours away as well.

“Grandsire, the princess and I were just—”

“You!” the Duke of Hightower shouts, turning on you first. “You should be in a chair or in bed, you should be resting, you should be thinking only of your health and of the wellbeing of the heirs you will produce with Aegon, not gallivanting around in the darkness and playing with swords, of all things! What would your husband say? What would your parents say?! Are you what we were promised when we signed that godforsaken contract?! Surely, princess, at this very moment you are not.”

Aemond begins: “Grandsire, it wasn’t her idea—”

“And you,” the Duke of Hightower growls at him. “You will immediately rid yourself of your baffling aversion to marriage, because you’re next, Aemond. Be prepared to discuss the candidates tomorrow and decide upon your preferred bride. Your brothers and sister are spoken for. We have one last card to play, and it cannot wait any longer. Not with this enduring…” He glances bitterly at you. “Uncertainty.”

Since you arrived in England, there have been innumerable discussions of who Aemond will marry, and he has staunchly evaded every proposed match. His rationale has wavered from needing to focus on his studies to committing himself to training as a warrior to interrogating the strategic wisdom of each potential alliance. This is strange for a man who is otherwise so constrained by familial loyalty, so devoted to the advancement of the Greens. “I won’t even get to meet her first?”

“You’ll learn to like her. Daeron met his betrothed today and he is happy.”

“Daeron is lucky,” Aemond objects. “I might just as easily not be.”

“You will marry,” the Duke of Hightower insists. “Without protest and without further delay.”

Aemond looks down at his empty hands—lines and callouses, fresh scars and ancient heritage—and he says quietly: “Do you care nothing for love?”

“Have you ever wondered why the old put so little stock in love, Aemond?” the Duke replies. “It’s not because we don’t believe it’s real. It’s because we know it doesn’t last. Women die in childbirth. Men die at war. Thousands die of Plague or the bloody flux. People who once would have killed for you grow to hate you, or worse, feel nothing for you at all. Love is transient and painful and changeable and destructive. Best to skip over such things and think of legacy instead. That’s all any of us are left with in the end.”

And then the Duke of Hightower clasps your wrist and leads you back inside the palace, gently, as if you are made of glass.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is several hours later when Aegon staggers noisily into your bedchamber, knocking over a Florentine vase by the door. Shards of it tumble across the floorboards like wounded men littering a battlefield.

“Sorry,” he slurs, pulling off his tunic and then the plain white shirt underneath. “I’m very drunk, wife, I cannot deny it, but there’s only one part of me that you’re in need of and I think that I can still get it up—”

“Aegon.” You’re lying in bed and sipping a cup of apple cider. “You don’t need to stay. Your part is done.”

He stops cold and blinks at you, comprehending it sluggishly. His eyes flick down to your belly, covered by a blanket decorated with green roses. “Oh.”

“It’s alright. You can go now. You have other places to be, and I know that’s what you want.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? To make it easier?”

Be a different sort of man. Be more like Aemond. “No, I’m fine. But it’s very sweet of you to ask.”

“Okay.” He lurches away, stepping on pieces of the shattered vase. His bare feet leave stains of blood on the floor. And then he pauses under the doorframe, gripping it so he doesn’t fall over. “Wife?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with you, you know,” he says. “It’s the pressure of it all. It’s the responsibility. I don’t have to feel that when I’m with anyone else.”

I don’t wish he was more like Aemond. I wish he WAS Aemond. “I understand, Aegon.”

He gives you a pitiful, off-kilter, childish smile. “Goodnight,” he says just before he leaves, clutching the doorframe with clawed hands. And then: “Goodnight to both of you.”

#aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader

[bohemian-nights]

Arlī(Anew)-Chapter 6

Word Count: ~10,442

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; minor smut; blood

Description: “I fear I will go mad if I stay here.” Naerys needed to be away from Dragonstone for a little while. Away from all that she herself had lost.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

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120 AC- Driftmark

Death is a strange thing. It’s as natural as living even more so, but one never thinks of it that way. Lurking around every corner. It is the final act of one’s life. An inescapable fate. Sometimes a grand finale. Other times a quiet whimper. It often visits in pairs. Prolonging the suffering of the loved ones left behind. Such was the case in 120 AC.

Death first visited the unlucky halls of Harrenhall. A fire swept through the cursed castle taking Ser Harwin Strong and his father Lord Lyonel Strong to their graves. Naerys had never cared much more either. Ser Harwin, though an admirable father to her cousin's children, and his bastards alike, was a poor husband.

There could be no question that Ser Harwin was undeserving of her cousin. He had a lady of house Velaryon for a wife, a young graceful Valyrian bride, and yet that was not enough for him. He instead spent too much of his time in the company of another. Fathering children with said other when his priorities should have lied closer to home.

Naerys did not know the elder Strong well. Lord Strong was a blank sheet of parchment as far as the princess could tell. He did not have the presence and guile of the previous hand, now reinstalled hand, Ser Otto Hightower. The Strong’s were a noble house yet they lacked the distinction of other riverlands houses like the Blackwood’s or the Bracken’s. They had in truth only held their seat for a generation. The Strongs had thus far failed to make their mark upon Harrenhal and Westeros at large.

Then there was Laena. Sweet Laena. A beautiful, vivacious Velaryon woman. A trueborn daughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. The blood of the dragon ran thick through her veins as much as the blood of the seas. A noble lady who might have been queen one day had it not been for their great grandsires stubbornness.

While Naerys had not cared much for the Strongs she did mourn her cousin's death. Laena was the closest thing to a sister that the princess had. She had been the one that Naerys went to when she could not or did not dare to ask her aunt for womanly advice. She had taught her cousin how to claim Silverwing as she had claimed Vhagar. Now the brown silver-haired woman was gone along with a son who never drew breath, but the Stranger was far from finished with adding to his collection.

Death was to visit twice more, but it was Aenys birth and immediate departure that had been the final blow to Naerys. Aenys funeral was a quiet affair. Ser Vaemond had been made to leave Dragonstone that night. Daemon blamed the Valyrian knight for his son's death. Naerys was not due for another week. If she had not been made to go into early labor, if she had not heard the distressing news perhaps their son might have lived.

The princess had to be carried down to the beach by her husband where their son’s cloth-wrapped body had been placed. She was the one who gave the command to light the pyre. She insisted upon it. Her small cry of “dracarys” was carried by the wind into Silverwings ears. Naerys had gone mute for nearly a week after.

By the fourth day of her silence, she refused to eat. Pushing trays of food away whenever one of her maids arrived. They tried tempting her with her favorite treats, but Naerys simply pulled herself further under her covers. This went on for two more days before a weary Daemon who had seated himself on their bed and curled himself around her. “Daenys iksos asking syt zȳhon muñnykeā byka mēre.” Daenys is asking for her mother little one.

Their daughter had been barred from entering their chamber. Naerys could not face the girl. She had left her husband to deal with her alone. Why should she burden the girl when she had failed as a mother? Failed to deliver a healthy son into the world. Who knew what further damage she might cause?

But her daughter cared not. She wanted her mother. Naerys was Daenys mother before she had been Aenys and she would be there long after the babe had gone. She was a living breathing girl. Did she not matter? All she asked for was her mother's company.

It was not fair of Naerys to deprive her living child of her mother. Daenys was used to the loss of her mother's babes, but she would not grow used to her mother's absence. Naerys had to return to the land of the living. The girl was sent for, along with some broth and bread with honey to break her fast.

Daenys sat with her mother as she ate. Climbing into her parent's bed and fixing herself to Naerys side as she prattled on about a toy Helana had sent as well as the bow and arrow set her father had gifted her. The young princess had found the latter gift to be much more agreeable than her long-since discarded training sword.

It was advised by Maester Orlys that attending Laena’s funeral on Driftmark might put a strain on Naerys' fragile condition. Daemon had agreed with the kindly older man. The stress of the journey alone could disrupt her slow recovery. Naerys was a long way from being whole. Her hunger strike had not helped matters. She was just now regaining her strength. Only being able to stand for short periods of time before exhausting herself and having to sit back down.

It would in truth take months before the princess was back to her old self. Naerys needed proper rest. Rest that could be found within Dragonstone’s walls. There was no need to stress herself, but Naerys remained firm on wanting to leave for Driftmark much to her uncle's dismay.

“Ziry istan issa dubāzma kepus.” She was my cousin uncle. It was late in the evening as Naerys and Daenys had curled up in Daemon's lap, The family was seated by the chamber’s fire. The little girl was dozing off when her mother softly spoke the words to her father.

Laena would do the same for her. Nothing would have stopped her from seeing off Naerys. Why should she not pay her the same? Her son was gone. There was nothing left to do, but mourn his loss. That could be done on Driftmark as well as Dragonstone. She could stand idly by with all that had happened. Naerys owed her cousin her dues.

“Nyke zūgagon nyke jāhor jikagon vēdros lo nyke umbagon rȳbagon.” I fear I will go mad if I stay here. Naerys needed to be away from Dragonstone for a little while. Away from all that she herself had lost. Daemon folded to his wife’s request at her declaration. Maester Orlys was to journey with them and they were to leave if Naerys became overwhelmed, but they would go to Driftmark for Laena’s funeral.

Laena’s funeral was held a fortnight after her death. Enough time for family and friends to journey to Driftmark from Dragonstone and Kings Landing. Driftmark had always been a place of levity and sanctuary for Naerys. Her mother had fled to the stony shores of her childhood when she was just shy of her second name day. Her father had been dead not even a week before her mother fled for her brother’s keep.

“There are spies everywhere brother.” That is what her uncle had told Naerys when she had asked him why she had left with such urgency. Even Ser Vaemond did not entirely believe his little sister. He thought that the late Shaera Velaryon was overly paranoid. She had always been so, but it had worsened with age. Seeing danger when there had been none. “Naerys is not safe here.”

Her mother had gone to Jahaerys with her worries, but the old king dismissed her with a flick of his frail wrist. “She is no longer the heir. There is nothing to fear my lady. Naerys is in no danger from those at my court. There is little that they can accomplish by harming a babe girl.” He was old and cared little for the politics of the realm anymore aside from who would rule over the seven kingdoms after him. Now that line of succession was clear he did not see the threat to his great-granddaughter.

In her desperation, Shaera had gone to her late husband's half-brothers. Though they had never been close to their elder brother, Naerys was their blood. Surely they would care for their little niece's safety? Viserys merely echoed his grandsire's words, but it was Daemon to her surprise who did not make light of her fears. He too believed that his grandfather’s court was full of traitors and simpering sycophants.

The Velaryon lady had thought she had found a champion for her daughter until the Targaryen prince added, “It is a pity that my grandmother saw fit to marry me to my bronze bitch. If she had waited some years more I might have had your daughter to call my little bride. Naerys is such a sweet little thing. I would have enjoyed plucking her flower.”

Daemon claimed it was a joke when he recollected the story to his wife a year after their own daughter's birth, but he professed it while his cock was buried inside his niece's warmth. Hovering over her as he thrust in and out of her sopping heat with a dark look Naerys had grown to adore.

The rogue prince reached a hand down between their love-soaked bodies. Naerys grip tightened as her husband made slow circles around her clit to bring his niece to her peak. “I suppose I have my baby bride now.” She had decided that there had been some merit in her mother’s apprehension.

Naerys' first memories were at her uncle's castle, but the white stone walls of her youth were not the ones she remembered when they had arrived at High Tide. The light and splendor had all but vanished. The castle was as quiet as the grave itself though it was bursting at the seams from the number of guests that had invaded its hall. One of her cousins and his lady wife were the ones to greet them. Making apologies for their lord uncle and his princess wife’s absence.

Ser Laenor had locked himself within his chambers. Not even Rhaenyra nor their sons were allowed in. His parents were trying to coax the man out, but with little success. The heads of house Velaryon and their heir were not seen until the next day at their daughter's funeral.

Ser Vaemond was given the honor of delivering Laena’s eulogy. Naerys did not know why her aunt and uncle chose him for this task. Any one of her cousins or uncles would have done. Anyone who would not make the loss of their daughter about himself. Never one to disappoint, the Velaryon knight did not miss an opportunity to take center stage.

Naerys uncle wasted no time in praising the purity of Laena’s Velaryon blood. The dark man did not take his violet eyes off of Rhaenyra and her black-haired sons as he said so. The Targaryen woman shifted uncomfortably, pulling her boys closer to her. Laenor, her husband, stood apart from his wife and “sons.” Naerys would have pitied her had she not earlier looked at her empty belly with a smirk on the way down to the ragged shoreline.

Daemon let out a laugh at Ser Vaemond’s poorly disguised chastisements of the crown princess. The Rogue Prince paid no mind to the looks of displeasure that his inappropriate reaction received. Instead, he craned his neck down to whisper in his wife’s ear. “Perhaps with her strong knight gone she might give the realm proper heirs.”

Naerys could not join her husband in his satisfaction for it was what worried her the most. Rhaenyra’s lilac gaze locked onto their uncle the moment she had seen him. She had only taken her eyes off their uncle when the Velaryon knight began his derision of her sons. You promised. Her cousin's pleas from all those moons ago rattled around in her head. It had never left her. They were both in need of heirs now. Did Rhaenyra intend on collecting the debt she felt she was owed?

Thankfully Daemon’s smirk dropped when he noticed his niece-wife’s growing distress. Her husband's eyes softened as he placed a kiss on her head. “Hae ao emagon teptan issa ñuhon.” As you have given me mine. Daemon pointed his gaze down to the small girl between them who held her father’s hand. Daenys seemed to be more interested in her cousins who stood by their Hightower mother than her great uncle’s speech.

Ser Vaemond was the first to make his way over to where Naerys and her family stood once Laena’s coffin was lowered into the sea. He brought his son, Daeron, and his eldest grandson with him. Daemon’s son was a plump boy of nine who had inherited his mother’s grace, a doltish woman from a minor riverlands house.

The Velaryon knight took care to introduce Daenys to her Velaryon cousin. The boy let out a clumsy bow. Referring to their daughter as cousin Daenys with a bashful stutter. It was an amusing sight to see to all but his grandfather. Ser Vaemond wasted no time in correcting his grandson's lack of manners. “She is a princess and is to be Lady of Dragonstone as well.”

Naerys bristled at her uncle’s words. Perhaps Ser Vaemond had not thought anything of it. It was the truth of the matter, but he could not possibly think that his niece nor his good nephew were over the death of their child.

Naerys would excuse the blunder. It was a simple enough mistake, but her husband would not take so kindly to Vaemond’s prideful arrogance which led to his forgetfulness. They were all grieving and the first thing that he thought of was what he could gain from it.

“I do wonder if your grandson is as insipid as you Ser Vaemond?” It was spoken with a sneer as Daemon stared down the Velaryon knight. Vaemond’s self-assured smile had finally fallen. His son looked as if someone had struck him across the face before he began to make apologies for his father's gaffe. Daeron regained his composure enough to usher his son and fuming father away from the rogue prince's ire.

Once they were gone from their sight Daenys began to tug on her sleeve fathers. “Will I have to marry him?” A little frown of distaste graced her honey face. The last remnants of tension in the air dissipated as her parents laughed at her little worries. Their daughter was an observant girl. She knew of her duties, but she was still a girl. She had nothing to fear. Daemon would never marry her off to just any boy. Her father affectionately petted the top of her silver curls, reassuring her that she would not have to marry the halfwit.

Naerys bit her tongue. The boy was young, but he came from good stock. His father was dull true enough, but he was a good man. His grandsire Ser Vaemond, though proud, was a good husband and father to his lot. She would have to marry. Why not marry Daenys into her grandmother's house? They were of ancient and pure Valyrian blood after all their daughter could do worse.

“He’d bore her in a week. He’s even more useless than his grandfather.” Naerys' husband did not miss the look his wife had tried to conceal. They both knew that proposals had been made for Daenys hand. Dragonstone and the dragons that it posed were a prized offer. As was the little princess in her own right, for she was every inch a Targaryen beauty in the making. However, decisions on their daughter's future could wait for now.

From the corner of her eye, Naerys spotted the king looking their way. The man looked worse for wear, but he gave them a polite smile. Daemon had noticed too, but the man was avoiding his brother's eye line, but that would not do. “Your brother wants to talk to you.”

Daemon hesitated. He would not leave his niece's side. Not while she tired so easily, but Naerys simply smiled and reached up to place a kiss upon his pale cheek. “Go. I have your little shadow with me to guard me.” Daemon looked down at their daughter who gave her father a salute. Satisfied with her response and his wife’s insistence the man left telling Daenys to “Watch your mother, little dragon.”

It was not long before Daenys turned her violet eyes back toward where Alicent’s sons stood crowding around their sister. Her daughter was ever the dutiful princess, but she was still a child. She deserved a moment of respite. Kissing her daughter on the top of her head she sent her to her cousins. Naerys started to make her way over to comfort Rhaenys and her granddaughters, but she felt a hand reach out grasping her arm. Spinning her around she came to face Rhaenyra’s cool inspection.

“You are brave to come here Naerys.” If one did not know any better one would think that Rhaenyra was almost giddy. She did not look as though she were a woman in mourning. All traces of penitence from Ser Vaemond’s reproach were gone. “I confess, if I was in your position I would not be able to bear it.”

Rhaenyra turned her gaze toward where Daemon stood with her father. “Our poor uncle suffers so, as I am sure your daughter does as well.” Rhaenyra took her hand. “Do not worry aunt, all will be well soon enough.” Naerys never got the chance to reply as Rhaenyra left making her way over to Daemon. To give him comfort in his grief. Daemon looked relieved to see her.

It dawned on Naerys then. Rhaenyra could not be stopped. Not by her cousin at least. She had everything yet she wanted more. She had three healthy sons. A husband who though did not love her in the way that a man ought to love his wife cared for her and her children.

The crown princess had a lover who had been willing to risk everything for her consequences be damned. She would one day inherit the Iron Throne. It all meant nothing. Not when the one thing the one man Rhaenyra wanted remained out of reach. All that stopped her was their uncle's insistence that he had no need for another besides his wife.

What would happen if Daemon were to change his mind? He had always wanted Rhaenyra. It was who he had truly desired, but he settled for another Targaryen niece. He claimed otherwise, but Naerys knew. She knew.

Ser Laenor would hardly put up a fight. He had not minded when his wife had taken Ser Harwin for a lover. Their marriage was not a traditional one. No Rhaenyra and her bastards would be allowed to journey back to Dragonstone with them. Both needed heirs. Proper heirs. Daenys was a girl. She was not a proper heir by virtue of her sex. No amount of lessons her father could give her would change that. She had been born with the wrong parts.

What man would not want to see his son rule after him? What man would not want his own seed on the Iron Throne? Of course, Rhaenyra was still married, but that impediment could be resolved. An annulment perhaps?

It was not uncommon for a Targaryen to take on a second bride. Maegor The Cruel had six; his father before him had two. Who would stop them? The king was old and weak; he would not argue against the arrangement either as long as it did not happen in his presence and once the deed was done he would not go against the union. The faith would not dare go against the king's word. They would not risk another uprising.

Daemon would never cast Naerys aside true enough. Her uncle did care for her. He may not love her as he did Rhaenyra, but some part of him did love her. He would be a husband to her as he would be with Rhaenyra. He would visit both of their beds and Naerys would be made to watch with a smile on her face as the crown princess bared him son after son.

People would whisper and gossip of course. Around court, around Dragonstone, just as they had during the last set of her failures, but Naerys would have to get used to it. The princess would be made to endure Rhaenyra as Laena had. The offer of a son and true happiness would be too tempting to pass.

But Naerys was not Laena. She could not endure. She lacked her sweet patience and grace in the face of adversity. She would not be made a pariah at court, in her own home on Dragonstone. To be mocked and pitied as though she were some poor creature. She would not allow it. She would never be queen, but she was a dragon just the same as the rest. Dragons do not share. She had given her husband an heir. There was no need for the future queen in her uncle’s bed.

Naerys was still reeling from being bombarded by Rhaenyra when Ser Otto approached her. The hand of the king started out by making his apologies for Aenys loss. His pale blue eyes shone with solace. If Naerys did not know any better she would have thought it had been made in earnest. She did not want to think the worst of the man. His sympathy could be sincere. The man had not lost children, but he had lost a wife. By all accounts, he loved her as much as a man like himself could.

“Daenys is very fond of her cousin. As her cousins are fond of her.” The hand had turned his gaze toward where her daughter and his grandchildren were. Daenys held a spider in her little hands as she talked with her cousins. A fact that seemed to please the second eldest prince as he sported a small grin on his face. The little princess had gotten over her fear of Helaena’s “friends.” Or at least the girl was willing to bare them to be in the company of her cousins.

“She has her mother’s beauty. She would have made Aegon a good wife.” Naerys shuddered at the thought. The boy was not unkind to Daenys, but her mother had seen the way the prince treated those who he thought less of. He barely spared his own sister and soon-to-be bride common decency.

Naerys could not help but feel deep sadness for Helaena. The girl was a gentle soul. She did not deserve to be married to such a careless boy who had inherited the Targaryen’s gluttonous and none of their glory. If he ever managed to be crowned king it would be in name only. “She would do well at court.” Naerys snapped her head back to look at the presumptuous man.

She had been too hasty in her judgment of Ser Otto. A leopard did not change its spots so easily. The princess would not make that mistake again. She would take a page out of her husband’s book. She was far too tired to deal with niceties. “If you want something Ser, do speak plainly.” He was wasting both of their time otherwise.

“If you are ever in need of assistance, princess.” The man bent down so that they were more on eye level. “My door is always open as is the queen’s.” With a half smile, he picked up her brown hand to kiss the back of it. It was intended as a version of a fatherly kiss. The same kind Ser Vaemond and Lord Corlys bestowed upon her when she was a little girl when they asked her to dance during feasts. “Both you and the little princess are always welcomed at court.”

Ser Otto turned his focus toward the far end of the balcony. Waiting for Naerys to follow his eye line. Daemon and Rhaenyra had vanished from sight. Not one trace of them could be found and the sun was setting.

Of course, Daemon could have gone back to their chambers, and Rhaenyra could have gone off somewhere on her own, but he looked so happy. He had not looked so in weeks. The better part of a year even. Her husband had not looked so cheerful since before she had told him of her Aenys pregnancy and Rhaenyra glowed under their uncle's adornment.

“How exactly would you help me Ser?” Naerys pulled her hand out from the cold man’s grip. She did not wait for the Hightower knight to respond. She would not hear of treasonous talk. She would not be poisoned by it. Dark commands led to dark deeds and those deeds would come with a price. A price that would soak through and last a lifetime.

Even if her life was to take a turn she would not damn herself to the seven hells to avoid it. “If you will excuse me, it is past Daenys’ nap time.” She had enough of today’s procession of woe. Grabbing her daughter, who was reluctant to leave her cousins, but did not protest when she saw the worry on her mother's face. The two hand in hand made way for the solitude of High Tide’s halls.

Naerys was wide awake when Daemon arrived back to their chambers. He had not come alone. Daenys had been put to be long since as she sat by their chambers lit fire in her nightgown. She had been staring into the flames for hours now losing track of time. She would have gone to be herself but her mind was running in circles playing everything back to her that had occurred in the past weeks.

“We had an agreement uncle.” Rhaenyra’s shrill voice could be heard coming through from the hall. Naerys could just make out their shadows under the door in the low light. Corlys and Rhaenys had been kind enough to offer them chambers that were far enough from the rest of the castle's guests otherwise her cousin would have woken nearby inhabitants

“I never promised you anything Rhaenyra.” Daemon hissed at his niece. He probably expected both his daughter and wife to be asleep, but caution never hurt. He would not be so lucky tonight. Naerys would not let slink in and act as if his absence had not been noted.

“What agreement?” Naerys ripped the door open to face her husband and her cousin’s shocked faces. The princess held her head up high. Her eyes were bloodshot and there were tear tracks on her cheeks, but she would not cower. She would not bother hiding herself away like a frightened child. She was a woman grown now. A mother and a wife. Daemon’s wife. She wanted answers. She deserved them.

“Sweetling you should be in bed.” Daemon came to her abandoning Rhaenyra in the hall leaving the door to their chambers open. He made a move to reach out for her, but Naerys backed away from his touch. A look of hurt flashed in his violet eyes, but his wife was not swayed. He had been gone too long to greet her in such a way. To send her to bed as if she were their daughter who had stayed up past her bedtime.

“What agreement husband?” Naerys held firm as she looked up at her husband. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Rhaenyra rushing into their solar closet, closing the oak doors leading into the hall. Her cousin was a neat woman, but the only word that could best describe the princess at the moment was frazzled.

“Sweet cousin, Naerys, Daemon needs heirs.” Rhaenyra twisted her thin mouth in a false smile. She basked in her pride despite her disheveled appearance. Treating as if she were a skittish doe that might run off at any moment. As if she had any concern for her at all. If she did she would not be here.

“There is no point lying uncle. Not anymore.” Rhaenyra turned to their uncle, placing a hand on his arm. Naerys wanted to claw the smug look off her cousin's face, but she wrapped her arms around herself and planted her feet on the stone floor. “My baby cousin will understand.”

“I have an heir Rhaenyra.” It was said with gritted teeth as he shook off his niece’s hand. Daemon tried once more to come to his wife, but the girl backed away holding a hand up to stay him. He listened to her choosing to run a hand through his shoulder-length white hair in frustration instead. “I have no need for more. Unlike your father, I do not let my dreams cloud my judgment. My flesh and blood will inherit Dragonstone after me and her children after her.”

“What agreement?” He still had not answered her. Breathing was becoming harder with each minute that passed. Naerys felt her heart speed up. Yet everything was in slow motion. She could barely hear anything, but the blood rushed in her ears. Trying to push her dread down. She steadied herself with a breath. She wanted the words said out loud. She wanted a real answer. Not more half-truths.

“A son or two. That is all that I ask for dear sister.” How Rhaenyra maintained her conceit was a mystery to her cousin. She was a woman that had never been told no. That had never been made to bend to others' will. “It is what our kepus has promised. There need not be a marriage.” Rhaenyra’s hand flew to her belly. A victorious smile. As if to challenge her. “It is you who holds him back.” Rhaenyra could give him new blood.

“Did you sleep with her?” Naerys could not look at her husband as she asked about her greatest fear. When they first married she had always suspected that he took Rhaenyra to his bed, but that was then. That was in the past. The present is a different story. They have a life together now. It might be broken and torn into small pieces, but it was a life. “All those times she came to our home—tonight—”

“I haven't been in anyone's bed except yours you hellcat.” It was meant to be a tease. To bring much-needed levity into the room, but he had picked the wrong moment for his japes. His eyes softened when he realized his mistake when he saw his wife’s misty eyes. “Not since I first had you little one.”

Taking her face in his hands he tried to kiss her, but Naerys refused. Turning her cheek so that the kiss landed there rather than its intended target. Rhaenyra was still in the room leering at them and Daemon had not asked her to leave. A wall stood between them and he still would not break it down.

“Did you promise her something?” It was none of her business. Promises were broken every day, but she had to know. She wanted to know. Needed to know. Rhaenyra had been haunting the back of her mind for years. Her uncle's first plaything. Naerys was her replacement. A poor substitute who could not even give him sons. Only a lone little girl to show for. She wanted to be his everything to give him everything, but she had failed and her cousin was all too willing to take up her rightful place beside their uncle.

“You are being childish Naerys.” Her husband scoffed at her. A dark look came over him. Daemon was all too used to getting his way with his niece-wife. Naerys always gave in to him and when she did not he was the one who acted as if she had injured him.

Naerys slapped him then. It had not been hard enough to do any damage. Her husband had barely moved. He stood there and laughed. Lightness returned to his eyes. He actually laughed at her torment. The princess felt her face heating up. She had not expected the reaction. She wanted his fire not to be treated as a joke.

“You married a child!” Naerys felt her fury growing. She would not be humiliated. She had been more humiliated today than many wives were in a lifetime. Everyone knew of her shame. Daemon knew what everyone thought of his relationship with his oldest niece and yet did little to actually reassure his wife. She would not let him talk over her.

“You married me because I was young and naive and you did not think that I knew better. You married me because I would soothe your broken ego. You married me because I was the niece that you were allowed to have.” She had never been wanted and she resented him for toying with her.

“Do you want to know what he did? He begged me to live.” Naerys spun around to face her cousin. Letting her anger guide her as she crowded Rhaenyra. She was enjoying her agitation far too much, but the younger princess did not care if she played the part of the desperate wife. Daemon had his choice, but he had chosen her. She wanted her cousin to know that even if their uncle never told her so. She wanted to haunt Rhaenyra as she had haunted her.

“The maesters told him he had to choose and he begged me to live. He paid for my life with our son‘s.” She hated her husband in part for it, but what was done was done. The past was dead to them. She would not give up her future without a fight. “He can not live without me. I am his wife. I am the mother of his child. Whatever agreement you had is gone, niece.” Rhaenyra’s vanity had faded and been replaced by ire.

“Daemon-” The Rogue Prince held up a hand to Rhaenyra. Silencing the red-faced woman. He did not turn back to face her. Instead, he kept his violet eyes trained on his wife. Bringing her into him pressing his forehead to his wife’s. He brought his hands up to face drawing circles into her temple with the rough pads of his thumb.

“Rhaenyra tell my wife what you said when you prostrated yourself at my door all those moons ago.” He pulled away slightly to hover over her. Naerys wanted to turn her head away, but she could not. Her uncle looked as if he was some avenging old God of Valyria as he gave out a breathless chortle. He had hypnotized her.

“Ao sagon obsessed rūsīr aōha riñnykeā ābrazȳrys kepus. Nyke pendagon skorkydoso bōsa ao kostagon nykeōragon naejot fuck zȳhon gō ao mazverdagon ēdrugī hen zȳhon. Gaomagon ao remember bona Rhaenyra?” You're obsessed with your child bride uncle. I wonder how long you can stand to fuck her before you grow tired of her. Do you remember that Rhaenyra? Daemon did not receive an answer. He had not been truly looking for one. He continued on without a need for one.

“Gaomagon ao remember skoros nyke ivestretan ao? Ziry iksos nykeā pretty byka mirre. Nyke don’t pendagon nyke shall mirre tire hen zȳhon. Nyke’ve found se fountain hen youth rȳ lenton rȳ zȳhon thighs.” Do you remember what I told you? She is a pretty little thing. I don’t think I shall ever tire of her. I’ve found the fountain of youth at home between her thighs. Naerys clamped up briefly when she felt his hand travel between said thighs, but the trance never ceased. Her blood was stoked by its blaze.

Daemon never looked away from his niece-wife as he dipped a finger into her cunt. Gathering enough wetness to bring to her clit. Toying with the little button. His other hand reached up to tug down her gown with one swift motion. Revealing her dark full breasts to the chamber's dim light.

“Sweet little thing. So wet and pliant for me. My baby whore. To do with as I please. I’d share her with you. I offered you that, but you wouldn’t appreciate it wouldn’t you? And I’ve never been fond of sharing my toys.” Naerys was too trapped by her warring emotions clouded by lust to care. She gave into the hazy blanket of salacity her husband offered her.

The man did not pull away. “Issa pretty byka ābrazȳrys. Ziry iksos headstrong isse zȳhon own ñuhoso se jealous gīda though ziry emagon daor drīve naejot sagon. Ivestragī jikagon syt issa dōna riña.” My pretty little wife. She is headstrong in her own way and jealous even though she has no reason to be. Let go for me sweet girl. Daemon sped up his movements. His wife meant to put a stop to his ministrations then.

It was bad enough that he had touched her while in the presence of another. She would not have another see their most intimate moments, but her opposition died on her tongue. Naerys had to clutch onto the man in front of her as she felt herself topple into her peak. “Issa gūrotrir.” My prize.

“Out now.” Rhaenyra looked as if she was in a half-daze. Her pale face was riddled with unabashed disgust. She did not move to exit. “I mean it Rhaenyra.” Daemon’s stern voice tried to break her from her daze, but an urgent knocking sounded at their door. Naerys' husband removed his fingers from her overspent hole placing a light kiss on her temple. Helping to pull the straps up to her nightgown so that she was in a decent enough state of dress.

Rhaenyra had been closest to their chamber's entry, but she remained in a state of crisis. Daemon was the one to open the heavy oak doors. Barking down at the poor soul who was unlucky to be given the task of rousing the Rogue Prince and his wife.

A frightened boy of no more than twelve name days peered up at her husband. Her uncle’s servant stumbled over half his words. “Beg your pardon, your highnesses.” He turned to acknowledge Rhaenyra with a bow.

The boy did not blink at her presence in their chamber. Naerys did not want to think about what went on in her uncle’s halls for him not to do so, “The little princess and princes have been hurt.” Naerys felt her heart stop beating. All the blood left from her body to some indescribable place of dread.

She sensed her arm being grabbed by her husband. He ushered her down toward her uncle's Great Hall. His heavy strides did the work for them both. The princess made note that Daemon had somehow managed to grab his sword as well. Naerys was too in her head to care what he might do with it.

High Tide had descended into chaos. Servants scrambled past them rushing to the source of the mayhem. The shouting grew in volume with each step. Rhaenyra was the last one out of their chambers but she flew past them in search of her sons.

Relief flooded through the princess at the sight of her daughter. Daenys leaned on Helaena who was trying to calm down the wailing child. Upon seeing her parents the young princess ran to her father. The man wasted no time scooping up the girl. Naerys inspected her daughter as she sobbed into her husband’s chest. She sported a bump on her forehead and a small cut on her honey cheek, but she remained otherwise uninjured. She was unlikely to bare any scars from what had unfolded.

Daemon bounced the girl in his arms as he ordered Maester Orlys to be brought down from his chambers. The older man could sleep through a storm. He had more than likely not even heard the commotion going through the castle. The prince placed a kiss atop his daughter’s silver curls as he drew circles into her back. Daenys seemed to calm down once she was in her father's arms. Allowing her parents to comfort her. Daemon’s fury had abated with their daughter's change in mood until he noticed a certain bandaged boy bound to his mother's side who would not meet his uncle’s eyes.

Aemond stood at the heart of bedlam. From the impassioned appeals to the king exchanged between the queen and the crown princess, Naerys gathered that the boy had managed to claim her cousin's dragon. Daenys had snuck out with her cousin when he had taken Vhagar while her mother had been consumed with her dark thoughts.

Baela and Rhaena had seen Aemond riding upon their mother's dragon and altered their bastard half-brothers of it. The Strong girl's mother was not yet cold in her grave and the boy had dared to claim her mount. They had already lost their father and now they had to suffer the loss of their mother and all that she had held dear.

It was a “slight” that they did not let go unpunished judging by the state of their bruised and bloody small faces as well as Aemond’s left eye. Naerys understood their anger, but the fighting had gotten out of hand.

Daemon deposited their daughter into his niece-wife’s arms. Kissing both their heads before turning to face his nephew. His wife was reminded of the Valyrian sword in his possession when the prince unsheathed Dark Sister. Naerys knew it would be impossible to stop him though she did protest. Aemond was a boy. He was hardly vicious enough to attack his little cousin.

“Is this your handiwork boy?” The king made no move to stop his brother. His pallid complexion took over by exasperation at being made to preside over this spat. His younger brother had enough fire for the both of them. He need not make a show of things.

Aemond looked terrified as his uncle closed in on him pointing his sword at him. Alicent pushed her son behind her as her sworn shield unsheathed his own blade in the prince's defense. Naerys wondered if Daemon would take his other eye. She wondered what the king might do as he ordered both Ser Criston and his brother to drop their swords.

“I fell.” Daenys' little voice cried. Her wailing had started once more. She buried herself into her mother's neck at her confession. Naerys did her best to try to console the young princess but she rambled on between sobs. “Cousin Aemond told me to go and I fell. He did not push me.”

“Daemon.” Her husband had not heard their daughter's muffled pleads. It was doubtful the rest of the hall had heard her. Her uncle snapped his pale neck towards them. Her uncle saw red, but his fire could be extinguished when he learned of the truth. He was a man capable of reason despite his hot-blood nature. “She fell. Your nephew did not do this.”

Naerys' husband stormed away from Alicent and her son. He would not believe their daughter's declarations until he saw for him. Looking into a matching set of violet eyes he took their daughter back from his wife’s hand. Shushing her as she babbled out apologies. “I fell kepa. I am sorry.” It was an accident. Daemon saw that. A childish accident.

Maester Orlys had finally arrived. Mindful of his wife's health Daemon directed one of the servants to fetch a chair commanding her to sit. Naerys did not argue. She had been standing for much longer than she should have. The day had exhausted her and drained a great deal of her recovering strength.

Daenys crawled into her lap as the Maester cleaned her wounds. Curling a hand around her mother’s coils the same way she did as a babe. Her poor child. If Naerys had not been so caught up in her own pain, Daenys could have been avoided.

The shouting around them recommenced. Each mother blamed the other and the king remained lackluster in his defense of both. Preferring to take on his version of impartiality. Who was he to choose between his son and his grandsons?

There could be no impartiality when his own son had lost an eye. If someone ever laid a finger on Daenys she would tear them apart limb for limb if Daemon had not gotten to them first. It was the king's blatant refusal to do anything for his son that disturbed Naerys the most.

It did not make it right, but Naerys knew why Aemond had claimed Vhagar. The boy's egg had never hatched. Out of all of Alicents children, he was the one who desperately clung to his Valyrian heritage. Her husband and her young cousin were alike in that regard. He had always scoffed at him for his Andal blood, but Naerys could see the restlessness of a second son in Aemond. He had wanted to prove himself and Vhagar was the way to do it. The largest Dragon in the world, the last living relic from the days of the conquest and she now belonged to a boy of ten name days.

“Daenys was party to this. Perhaps she should be questioned as well.” Rhaenyra turned her sharp gaze to the small girl in her cousin's lap. Daemon's violet eyes narrowed at his niece, but it was Naerys who spoke for their daughter.

She advanced towards Rhaenyra. The woman clutched her sons closer. Her uncle Lord Corlys stood by her side in absence of his son as his wife clung to their granddaughters, the last remnants of her daughter. Naerys would not be intimidated by her cousin's attempts at victimhood. She had gone too far by trying to accuse her daughter, a little girl of four name days, of aiding in alleged treason

“She fell and hit her head, sweet niece.” Naerys turned to face the king. Daenys would not be questioned by her cousin. She would not be brought into a fight that was not theirs. “My daughter can scarcely recall what happened to herself, much less the reason for the disagreement between your son and your grandson’s your grace or why Prince Aemond called them such names.” Naerys did not care if she was impertinent. Her cheek would no doubt be blamed on her recent losses. Better to let them think that she was weak.

The sickly man simply waved her off, going to question his sons. Their mother desperately defended them, but it was a vain endeavor. Viserys would not have the legitimacy of his beloved daughter's heirs questioned even at the expense of his sons or the truth of the matter.

The king demanded for the two factions of his family to kiss one another and apologize for whatever hurt they inflicted upon each other. The fighting must stop as they were a family. Devastation took over the queens. Tears clouded her dark eyes as she stared in disbelief at her husband's verdict. His choice to shield his daughter in favor of his son.

Alicent's inaction did not last longer than a minute. She grabbed her husband's dagger before anyone could stop her. Naerys tried to push herself out of the way from the queen's warpath as she came rushing towards Rhaenyra. The princess found herself caught between the queen and the would-be queen as Alicent demanded justice for her son and her own sacrifices. Her duty. Her stepdaughter laughed at every lawful devotion she held dear. Rhaenyra lorded above them all.

Naerys noticed Daemon scrambling to make his way to her, but he was held back by Ser Criston and two other members of his brother's kings guard. Calls for Alicent to release the dagger and the princess reverberated around the hall, among them was her own father, but the queen would not listen. She wanted blood.

Corlys tried to pull Rhaenyra back to him, but the three women stood locked in each other’s grips as Alicent tried to gain the upper hand, pointing her blade near her rival's eye. The crown princess taunted the queen. “Exhausting, isn’t it? Hiding under the cloak of your own righteousness, but now they see you as you are.” The Hightower woman swung her dagger at the princess forgetting that Naerys stood between them.

She felt the pain before she lowered her eyes to see blood running down her arm bleeding into her cream nightgown. The white bone peaked out from the exposed flesh. Naerys brought her uninjured hand to touch it, letting out a hiss at the sting. She grew dizzy at the sight.

Daemon came rushing to her, finally breaking through from the crowd that had parted in horror. Her husband wasted no time, putting pressure on her wound as he ripped off the left sleeve of her robe in a makeshift bandage. Lifting her before her legs gave out.

Naerys had lost too much blood with her last birth. She was not to exert herself. Not in this way. Her body was healing and who knew how far back this might set her. Alicent attempted to make her apologies. It was an accident. She had not meant to hurt Naerys.

Daemon brushed the woman off, casting a glare that would have killed her on the spot if it possessed the capability to do so. The queen had only escaped the physicality of her good brother's wrath. Her husband had made the wise decision of ordering his Kingsguard to apprehend Dark Sister when Alicent first grabbed

Rhaenyra went to follow them, but Daemon openly glared at his oldest niece. Demanding that she get a hold of herself. “Do you not think you have embarrassed yourself enough for one night?” Rhaenyra sulked back to her boys, avoiding the eyes of judgment that fell upon her. As they made to exit the great hall a teary Daenys began to trail after her parents, reaching up for her mother’s hand. Naerys limply squeezed her daughter’s hand giving her a reassuring smile. She tried not to give into the drowsiness that threatened to overtake her. She would not let it win out.

High Tide’s halls had grown quiet in the early morning. The rest of her uncle's guests had settled back into their chambers. The excitement of the evening had worn them out, but they would be up soon enough. More than likely journeying away from the havoc that had enfolded.

Daenys refused to be put to bed by her nursemaid until she knew that her mother would be out of danger. Curling into her mother's side as Maester Orlys sutured her arm. Naerys was not to strain herself further or lift anything heavier than a cup of tea for a fortnight. There would be a scar. That was unavoidable for the knife had torn through skin fat and tissue to reach the bone underneath, but the wound would heal nicely with proper care.

“Did you promise to give her a son?” The princess was the first to break the silence. Daemon had seated her in his lap on their bed as he stroked her un-injured arm, trying to lull her to sleep. Their maester had ordered her to get some rest. They were to travel home in mere hours. She needed her strength, but the events that occurred over the course of her cousin's funeral were too fresh to forget.

“Yes.” Daemon let out a sigh as he kissed her head, continuing his caresses. They were both too tired to lie or argue with one another. “I did not think that our marriage would be a happy one.” Naerys let out a soft snort, but her husband shushed her. Placing another kiss into her coils. “She had asked me to after she gave birth to Jace. Then again with Luke.”

“Why didn’t you?” He had plenty of opportunities too. In the early days of their marriage, Rhaenyra had been a constant in Dragonstone’s halls. Naerys could barely turn without seeing her cousin in the company of their uncle. Leaving Ser Laenor to entertain her. It would be easy enough to have her slip into his chambers during the night. To give his favorite niece a Valyrian son. His niece-wife would be none the wiser. She could not picture him ever denying the crown princess who he had wanted for so long, but he had.

“You seemed so lonely.” Naerys frowned slightly at her husband’s admission, but the man laughed, pulling her up so that she sat on his lap facing him. He moved his warm hands up to encircle her face. Amethyst eyes met violet.

Loneliness was an expectation of her life. She had grown used to the state with the passage of her own mother. Naerys had her mother’s brothers and her aunt after that, but some days it was hard not to feel like an interloper. They had not put up much resistance when her fathers half brother deigned to take her away to another empty palace. It was her duty. Her cross to bear became not so very unbearable.

“I did not mind it little one.” He beamed at her and it was a sight to see. “You were the first thing I had to myself that never belonged to someone else. I did not lie to my brother when I said that you were made for me.”

“Do you wish for a son?” The one thing that she could not give him. It is you who holds him back. If he ever was to have a son it would not be she who gave birth to him. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make if needs be. If it would make him happy.

“I wish for everything with you.” Daemon continued to stroke down her cheeks. Rubbing soothing circles luring her into a state of contentment. The princess leaned into his touch. “I wish for Daenys to have brothers and sisters, but only with you. Just with you Naerys. I’d rather have you than see Dragonstone’s halls bursting with babes.”

“I love you Naerys. I love you, my sweet girl. No one else. Do you understand sweetling? I don’t want anyone else. I have no need for anyone else. I love you.” Naerys had not realized that she had begun to cry softly until her uncle kissed away the tears that fell upon her cheeks, gently shushing her. “I am sorry that I ever made you feel otherwise, but I am yours as you are mine. You are enough for me. You have always been enough.”

Daemon bent down slightly to capture his wife's lips in a kiss. Their tongues danced. She tasted the salt from her tears and the earth and heat that belonged to her husband. There was no fight for dominance. Naerys let herself be swept away by her husband’s attentions. Enjoying the warmth that spread throughout her worn body.

A knock sounded at their door. Naerys had to push her husband away to stop letting out a breathy giggle at her husband’s annoyance. The man groaned before placing one final kiss, or two, upon her lips.

Grudgingly making his way to the door to find the queen waiting for them. Ser Criston along with a fellow Kingsguard came with her. Though the latter stood watch in the hall, the first joined Alicent in their chambers. The Rogue Prince had not been given back Dark Sister, but any blade in his hand would be lethal. One could not be cautious enough.

Daemon tried to command the queen and her guards to leave. Goading her for her folly. “Have you come to finish the job?” It was Naerys who had to be the voice of reason when scolded her husband's silliness. Asking him to let them in. The man merely grumbled, but he listened to his wife’s bid. It would not do to be angry with Alicent when they knew she had not meant her any harm.

“Words can not express my deep regret princess.” The queen had knelt down on the floor in front of their bed. Taking Naerys brown hand in her pale one as the two men exchanged glares. “Nor my shame.” The Hightower woman’s glassy dark eyes flitted down to the stitches that graced the princess’s forearm.

“There is nothing to forgive sister.” Naerys returned her good sister's grasp. She knew that the blade had not been for her. Alicent had always been kind to her. Her quarrel lay with Rhaenyra and she had been unfortunate enough to be in the way when her anger got the best of her. “How is the prince?”

“The Maester was able to save his eyelid.” Alicent as she started to tear up. Wiping stray tears as they fell upon. She turned her gaze towards the chamber's dying fire. “He will make a full recovery. The king is pleased.” Her voice strained at her last words. Fury flashed in the queen's eyes before fading just as quickly as it came. Clearing her throat she turned back to face her good sister. “Your daughter, how is she?” Worry was evident across the Hightower woman’s face.

“She is fine, no thanks to your son.” Daemon sneered down at the woman. Coming to stand near his wife like a sentry. Ser Criston thankfully made no move to get closer to the queen. Though he did continue to stare down his old rival.” If you want something, spit it out. My wife needs her rest.” Alicent winced, but her focus stayed on Naerys.

“You are welcome at court anytime.” Daemon was about to retort when Alicent peered up at him.“Your brother would like to see more of you as well Prince Daemon.” The prince began to shift upon the balls of his feet. It amazed Naerys how her hot-blooded husband turned into a little boy at the mention of his brother.

“We will try to come to visit more often.” Daemon looked less than pleased with her reply, but Naerys would deal with her husband later. The king would not be around forever. Daemon had always loved Viserys. He would regret it if he was not closer to the king in his final years.

“Your daughter seems fond of my son. As is the prince.” It was said with an innocent enough smile. The woman was partial to Daenys. Inviting her to take tea or join her sewing circles with her and Helaena whenever they visited the Red Keep. The little princess was an easy enough child to get along with and a delight to be around, but Alicent was her father's daughter. Naerys could not forget that.

“That would be the one with the missing eye, correct?” Naerys swatted a hand at her husband in admonishment, but the man only reached for said hand bringing and bestowing a kiss upon the back of it. His violet eyes softened briefly before turning back to Alicent. “Our daughter is four. Your son is far too old for her.” Naerys was thankful for the fact that her uncle left it there. “You should check on him. I’m sure he’s missing his wet nurse.”

Fearing having overstayed her welcome Alicent offered her a small smile, squeezing her hand one last time before departing. Ser Criston trailed after his queen, making his exit with a bow and a ”princess” to Naerys while completely ignoring her stone-faced husband.

The Stranger still clung to Hide Tide. Making one final visit before he too would retreat for a spell. His work was never done. This time it had chosen another Velaryon to call to the Gods. Naerys' cousin Ser Laenor.

Neither Lord Corlys nor Rhaenys had come down to break their fast. A common occurrence during the duration of their short stay. Ser Vaemond saw the king and his party off as they left before noon. Aemond rode off on the back of Vhagar while the rest of the party boarded ships that would take them back to King's Landing. The other visiting funeral guests departed shortly after. High Tide was returning back to some version of normality. Though the absence of Lady Laena’s spirited presence was felt greatly.

It was Rhaenyra who broke the news of her husband’s passing to her uncle and cousin-aunt. The Targaryen couple were standing by the bay ready to return to Dragonstone, by the skies and sea, when the crown princess came rushing down towards them.

“My husband is dead.” With tears streaming down her pale face Rhaenyra launched herself at her uncle. “They murdered him. His friend, Ser Quarl, murdered him.” It had not come as a great surprise. The company that Ser Laenor had kept was less than suitable for a man of his rank. His lovers had never been discreet and had been ill-tempered for the role of the eventual prince consorts paramour.

“Take me with you back to Dragonstone.” Gripping her uncle tight enough for her knuckles to turn white one might think that she was grief-stricken. A part of Rhaenyra might mourn the loss of a husband and a great friend, but Naerys knew her games.

“I can not stay here. Not here with his parents. I can not be alone uncle.” The crown princess switched to their mother tongue for the next of her impassioned pleas. Hoping to hark on some less-than-familial sentiment that the prince once held for his niece. “Konīr iksos daorun bona stands isse īlva ñuhoso sir kepus. Issa kepa would daor deny īlva bisa.” There is nothing that stands in our way now uncle. My father would not deny us this.

Daemon placed an affectionate pat upon the Targaryen woman’s arm.“Comfort your children niece. They will need you.” Giving her a kiss on her cheek he turned to climb upon Caraxes' back. Taking to the skies once Daenys was placed securely in front of him. Maester Orlys ushered Naerys onto their vessel while the crown princess stood a white-faced statue paralyzed by the shock. Watching on until her beloved uncle and his family became distant dots in the sky and sea.

Ao3 Link:

Tags:

@misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade @beggarsnotchoosey @m-indkiller @pearlstiare @green-lxght @lazypinkpig

#daemon targaryen x targaryen!oc #daemon targaryen x black!oc #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #it’s time for Laena’s funeral #daemon is being a low key creep at parts #the rogue prince #hotd fanfiction #prince daemon targaryen #hotd fic #daemon x reader #daemon x oc #daemon x targaryen!oc #daemon targaryen #bnhotdfic

[quirkykaty]

Busted

Pairing: Crowley x F!Reader Warnings: SMUT (the one and only I've written so far, so feel free to judge), bit of fluff, bit of angst, getting caught (duh) Summary: When the cats are away, the mice will play. Sam and Dean pop out for a few hours and Crowley decides to pop in for a visit. Wordcount: >1000 Author's Note: I can't remember when or why I wrote this but it still makes me grin when I reread it so whatever. Crowley is such an ass but gods I love him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bye! Call us if anything comes up, okay?” Sam called out to you from the door of the Bunker. Dean grinned at you over his shoulder and winked as he dragged his brother out the door. You laughed as the door closed on them, shaking your head at the grown men’s teenage antics.

Spinning on a heel, you made a bee-line for the kitchen. With Sam and Dean off to chase down a lead on the English Men of Letters, you had the Bunker all to yourself for a few hours and that meant one thing. Booze and a movie marathon in your pajamas. It was going to be fantastic.

Within an hour, you were splayed out on the couch in a ratty shirt that was several sizes too big and a pair of fuzzy black socks, with a bottle of Jack in one hand and the remote in the other. Having the boys out of the Bunker meant you could pull your secret stash of movies, ones that you’d never live down if the boys found out. The first on the list was the Princess Bride, a guilty pleasure even you were ashamed of.

“Westley was a bloody idiot for leaving Humperdink alive, if you ask me,” a voice behind you drawled, the familiar accent making your face go red in seconds. You cut off the movie and leapt up, whirling to face the smirking demon that was currently leaning against the wall. “Hello, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you squeaked as you came around to the other side of the couch, frantically glancing across the room to the Bunker’s main room. The boys could be back at any time and if they caught you here with him, there’d be hell to pay. No pun intended.

“I heard that Rocky and Bullwinkle were going to be out for the evening and thought I’d pop in to see my favorite little hunter,” he said with a dramatic pout, pushing off the wall and striding toward you until he was right in front of you. “Miss me?”

You flushed slightly at the closeness, his rough voice only adding to the fire building inside you. “You.. You can’t be here, Crowley. Sam and Dean will be back soon. If they catch us…” you trailed off, biting your lip nervously.

Crowley simply smirked and hooked a finger under your chin. “Then I suppose we should be quick about it, hm?” His eyes smoldered their smoky red as they travelled across your face. He knew exactly what it did to you to see his eyes like that. Grinning smugly, he leaned toward you, not touching you, not kissing you, just moving far enough into your space to make your whole body tense with anticipation. “Dammit, Crowley..” you growled, grabbing ahold of his jacket and pulling him the rest of the way to you. Crushing your lips against his, you gripped fistfuls of his jacket and shuffled back until your hips were against the back of the couch.

Without missing a beat, Crowley wrapped his arms around you and pinned you to his chest, kissing back with a passion that never failed to make you go weak in the knees. His hand slid down your back and hooked under your thighs, hoisting you up and spinning around. With a thought, you were across the room, trapped between the wall and Crowley’s body as the two of you moved together.

You broke the kiss first, head falling back against the wall as Crowley’s lips moved to your neck, nipping and kissing here and there to drive you wild. Your legs came up and wrapped around Crowley’s waist, prompting him to grind up against you. A small whimper rose out of your throat and you ran a hand into his hair, tugging gently. “No time for teasing.”

Crowley grunted and tugged your earlobe between his teeth, smirking impishly as he rolled his hips against yours once more. The two of you vanished again, back to the couch, where he pushed you down, shedding clothes while you tugged off your panties.

Within seconds, he was on top of you, one hand under your thigh and the other trailing up your side, under your shirt. Your lips met in a desperate kiss as he pushed into you, drawing a moan from you and a faint hiss from him. He set a rough pace from the start, hands wandering, seeking flesh wherever they could find it.

It wasn’t long until you were both tumbling over the edge of ecstasy, your moans and his echoing off the walls of the Bunker. Panting heavily, he pressed his face into your neck as you both came down from the high. Your fingers traced shapes on his back while you caught your breath, chuckling weakly as you pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Pushing up on a hand after a moment, Crowley gazed down at you, head cocked to the side as he gave you his trademark smirk. “Well, that was a rather rousing workout, don’t you think?”

“I’ll have to send the boys away more often,” you said with a giggle, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“When you do, make sure you find out when they’re coming home,” a third voice piped up from somewhere in the room. You squeaked and bolted up on the couch, moving so quickly you smacked your head into Crowley’s. He yelped and put a hand to his head as the two of you turned to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway of the Bunker’s living room.

“Busted,” Crowley muttered, giving you an almost apologetic smile before vanishing from the room, leaving you to face the fallout on your own.

#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural crowley #spn crowley #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley smut

[pnwvegan]

“Netflix and Chill”

Sam Winchester x Female Reader Imagine/Fluff

Summery: Sam and Y/N decide to have a movie night in Sam’s room. What happens when feelings and tension rise?

Warnings: None really, just some good fluff 😁

“Hey!” Sam looked up as you entered the kitchen, staring intently at his laptop and drinking a cup of coffee. Typical Sam and his Sam-isms, getting to see and experience them daily was your favorite thing about getting to live in this bunker. You ended up here after working on a case together that ended with your hunting partner being killed in action and left you with no where to go, so the Winchesters took you in.

“Hey” he replied back,

“Where’s Dean?”

“Bar” he fixed his eyes back to his screen, no doubt looking for a case. You glanced at him longingly. Even though technically you said you would get out of their hair as soon as possible, getting to hang with Sam definitely has had its perks. Staring at that long lean body, perfectly tussled hair and deep puppy dog eyes, has actually left you with let’s just say..a deep crush.

Breaking your concentration on his face, he says, “so, what are you up to tonight?”

You honestly had no idea so you said,

“I’m actually not sure,what about you?” His lips peak a small smile, he replies, “ I’m going to fire up some Netflix in my room, actually if you want you can join me.” He runs his hand nervously through his long locks.

“I’d love that,” you smile at him and he looks relieved.

“So do you want to meet in my room at 7:00?” His eyes were so sincere you thought you would melt right there. Then he added,

“Don’t forget to wear your pjs”. You smirked at the thought of him without pjs.

You knocked on Sam’s door at 6:58, he opened the door with a smile. He was wearing black sweats and a black henley, the henley clinging outrageously to his pecks and biceps. You were sporting a black v-neck t-shirt and red and black plaid shorts. You meet his eyes to keep yours from wandering his body. He was the first to break the stare,

“You ready?” He led you into the room, it was cozy, warm and dimly lit by one lamp. Books sat on every surface and it smelled of cedar and linen. You noticed he had lit a candle and were flattered, the Netflix screen was waiting quietly. He sat on the bed and gestured for you to sit. You sat at the edge, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“You want any pillows or blankets?” He handed you one of his pillows and a blanket that he had folded on the side of his bed. You thanked him and then he press play on The Princess Bride.

You both watched in silence for a while, he then noticed how close to the edge you were and pulled your blanket closer to him. You felt the heat coming from him, then done possibly by mistake, he put his hand on your leg. You leaned on his shoulder and tried to hide your blushing cheeks. He must have noticed because he asked,

“Are you okay? Are you too warm?” You shook your head, but he wasn’t letting up. He lifted his hand and looked at you with concern, puppy dog eyes on full blast.

“What’s going on Y/N?” You sighed,

“Um I really like you and I don’t want to make you feel weird” his eyes blaring into you wasn’t helping and you felt your blush spreading all the way to your collarbones.

He was biting his lip,considering what to say next, now it was your turn to ask,

“What’s up?” He smiled a little and replied,

“I asked you to do this with me because I was hoping I would be able to hang out with you alone and I was actually worrying about the same thing.” Again doing his nervous tick of running his hand through his hair. You smiled at him and grabbed his hand, you put it back into your lap and said,

“I don’t feel weird”. He looked at you considerably,

“Dean says I flirt weird.” You raised an eyebrow at him,

“Well Dean is wrong, again, I don’t feel weird”.

He finally smiled back and put his other hand on your face. Your insides were burning.

“Is this okay?” He questioned, you nodded immediately, your voice stuck in your throat.

“How about this?” He pulled you into a kiss and the heat inside you exploded like confetti.

“Hell yes” you quickly quipped back, and pulled him back in. It’s safe to say, it was the best movie night ever.

#sam winchester #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural fluff #sam winchester angst #supernatural smut #supernatural imagine #supernatural #Winchester #fluff

[rextasywrites]

Aftershow Part 2 (Leon Kennedy x f!reader)

The taxi felt ways too small, too cramped, not giving Leon and you enough space to enjoy each other. The party lasted longer than you previously anticipated, but between laughter, drinks and snacks, hours flew past you as if they were mere minutes. Your lipstick on his collar, staining the white fabric forever. It matched the red of your dress, something Leon was tugging on, his patience running thin.

Find Part 1 here

Warnings: porn without plot, op being horny on main for leon and flueling it into this fic

No matter how hard you two tried, Leon couldn’t fit a date into his busy schedule. One day, he had to be downtown, doing voice over for his latest movie. The next day, he had to be at the other side of the country for re-shoots. His life was a busy one, but at least you could text him. Every so often you laid in your bed, wishing Leon was next to you. You opened your eyes to find the spot next to you cold and deserted, the loneliness inside of your heart making your whole body sting. How much longer could you go without seeing him?

-txt- Hey baby...sorry for the lack of messages lately. Promo time has come and I am glad I am still in one piece, thinking of how everyone wants me on their shows and podcasts and magazines all at once! But listen...what about you come to the afterparty of the premiere? It’s in three days, enough time to find a pretty dress and a make-up artist. Just show me the dress first and I’ll send you the money over. Okay?

Leon’s message nearly made your eyes fall out of your skull, your heart about to leap out of your chest, making a classic exit out of your mouth. But there was no time to find your heart hiding in the room... 

-txt- Leon! Of course I’d love to join you.

You two fixed the time of your arrival at the party, and Leon insisted on paying for your dress and make-up...which you didn’t complain about, finding a good dress and an artist so close to the event was harder than you thought it would be. Thankfully a friend of a friend was a make-up artist, promising you to make you look like a princess.

The dress was a different story. 

*

The changing room was flooded with different dresses, ranging from bride looking growns to short cocktail dresses to hippie dresses to… “Fuuuuuuck, why did I even agree to this?”, you groaned as another dress didn’t fit the way you wanted it to, showing the parts of your body you didn’t want anyone to see or focus on. “Come on, it won’t be too hard!”, your friend laughed from the outside of the changing room, “He is like a sugar Daddy! He gave you money for make up AND a new cocktail dress! You better take advantage of this situation!”, she added, not realizing how serious this moment was for you.

Tears of frustration filled up your eyes as the pile of discarded dresses grew, and your friend poked her head inside of the cabin. “You good there, doll?”, she asked, another two dresses in hand.

“Do I look like I am okay?”, you groaned as you dragged your hands down your face, wiping away any possible tears that could have escaped, giving you a few seconds to calm yourself. “I look like a fool in each and every dress! It’s horrible!”

Your friend shook her head as she entered the changing room, hanging the newer dresses on the door. “You are talking bullshit again, dear.”, she chuckled as she eyed the dress you were currently wearing. She tilted her head before nodding, “But yes, this isn’t your colour. Come on, let's try this red one!”

Oh, how much better the red dress was. It wasn’t as tight as the previous one, but not too loose. It didn’t feel vacuum sealed, it didn’t feel like a potato bag - what a catch. The red complimented your skin tone, a blessing for your tear stained eyes. “That’s way better, babe. When we are done here, we are gonna grab some burgers, okay?”

*

“Well, aren’t you the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on?”, Leon muttered as he pulled you into a bear hug, tight enough to crush your ribs, puncturing your lungs in the best way. And by the gods he was right. If one wouldn’t know better, they’d say you were the star of the movie judging by your appearance alone. A princess, a beauty, breathtaking, taking the oxygen right out of someone’s mouth. In his eyes, no one and nothing came even close to the goddess in front of him.

After trying and failing to match Leon’s bear hug, he let go of you, his smile never fading. “How have you been, little one?”, he asked as he took your hand, pulling you into the crowd. People talking and drinking, having a great time, the noises mixing together into one big mess. “Ah, you know…just surviving”, you winked at the taller man in front of you, a grin spread over his lips. Of course you’d quote one of his movies! What a clever one you were! “Let’s go to the bar, shall we? I made sure they’d have your favourite tonight…and some finger food too. I hope you like onion rings!”

Between laughter and smiles and onion rings, you didn’t realize the pictures taken of you two.

*

The taxi felt ways too small, too cramped, not giving Leon and you enough space to enjoy each other. The party lasted longer than you previously anticipated, but between laughter, drinks and snacks, hours flew past you as if they were mere minutes. Your lipstick on his collar, staining the white fabric forever. It matched the red of your dress, something Leon was tugging on, his patience running thin.

“Hey you two. No fucking in the back of my car! We’ll be at your address in a few minutes, keep it cool!”, the driver’s voice ripped you two out of your dream-like state, the ecstasy and joy pumping through your veins, replacing every drop of blood with need for each other. But the driver was right - just a few more minutes until you’d be at Leon’s place and you could rip each other’s clothes off with no thoughts or concerns for others. Even if you’d like to keep the dress, it was expensive after all.

*

You never realized how good Leon’s face looked with your juice all over it. With a naughty grin he came back up from under the blanket, wiping the last bit off his lips. “You taste just as nicely as I remember.” You also never realized how sweet the feeling of waking up next to someone you liked was. That was something you could get used to. “Leon…”, you groaned, the last waves washing over you, crashing you against the shore of lust. Leon just chuckled and pulled you back into his arms, “Let’s sleep some more? It is only nine in the morning…and our night was long. Why did we even wake up in the first place?” “Cause you were hard and poking your dick against my sore ass, Kennedy.” “Sounds fair.”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x you

[blueink01]

Ch. 4: Overtune

Charlie Narrating-

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshiped good and shielded all from evil. Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation. But he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven."

"For they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world. So he watched as the angels began to expand the universe in their ways. From the dust of Earth, they created Adam and Lilith."

"Equals as the first of mankind, but despite this, Adam demanded control, and Lilith refused to submit to his will. She fled the Garden. Drawn in by her fierce independence, Lucifer found her and the two rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love."

"Together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted. But this gift came with a curse. For with this single act of disobedience, evil finally found its way into the Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin."

"And the order Heaven worked to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he had created, never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked."

"But Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power.”

“Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision. That every year, they would send down an army, an Extermination, to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them. But Lilith's hope remained. And her dream was passed down to their precious daughter, the princess of Hell." As Charlie finishes narrating, she closes a book titled "The Story of Hell" and looks out to Pentagram City.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'lI make you proud." Charlie soberly looks out the window to Pentagram City burning to the ground, just as Yn and Vaggie come into the room.

"Charlie?" Vaggie questioned, looking at Charlie. The key Charlie was holding transforms into KeeKee who scampers away.

"Aah! Oh, shit. Did you hear all that?" Charlie looked down as she turns to Yn and Vaggie in surprise.

"Yeah. We were right there at the door.." Yn points her thumb to the doorway.

"Sorry. I get pretty worked up after an extermination happens. The story helps..." Charlie smiled.

"Don't worry. I enjoy your theatrics." Vaggie chuckles.

"Are you okay?" Yn and Vaggie sit down with Charlie

"I'm fine. Just... thinking, ya' know? Family stuff." Charlie sighs, Yn could feel how sad her girlfriend was.

"Did you hear anything from Lilith?" Charlie shakes her head in dismay. Yn sighs, Vaggie was rubbing Charlie's back.

"Oof... how long has it been now?" Vaggie questioned.

"Not that long, only... seven... years, off doing something important, I'm sure. But this kingdom was something she really cared about. Something I care about." Charlie looked at the city.

"well, at least you're not alone." Vaggie smirked.

"Yeah, even if Hell froze over, you can be sure that me and Vaggie will be by your side." Yn added too.

"I just hope that what I'm trying to do here will work." Charlie said with a small smile on her face.

"It will. We have faith in you." Keekee then leaps into Charlie's arms, Yn and Vaggie smiled as they stand up.

"Alright, come on now. Alastor says he has something interesting to show us." Yn said as she and Vaggie head to the door. As they leave, a loud bell rings throughout the city, and Charlie turns to the Bell Tower at Heaven Embassy. She looks on with sadness, knowing that it's another year before the Extermination comes again before she leaves.

-Time Skip-

In the Commercial-

The scene turns static before it fixes itself to reveal a sinner stabbing another demon to death with a knife before Alastor caught their attention.

"Well, hello there you wayward sinner. Do you like blood violence and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course you do. That's why you're in hell." As the camera rolls, scenes switches from the front of the Hazbin Hotel, to Charlie on camera and she waves at it.

"But what would you say if I told you there was a place to stay that had none of that? Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption. Founded five days ago by Lucifer's delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar! Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her mommy issues by fixing you." Angel Dust omes into view, putting two-fingers over the head prank behind her.

"Here we offer fun things such as somewhat functional staff and 24-hour pest control. Custom rooms. and just look at this tacky parlor, enjoy riveting conversation with our singular resident and our residential Overlord. Wow." The camera to the bartender, Husk, who was clearly drunk, passing out on the ground as Niffty, the hotel maid, tries to stab and chase after a bug, and then to Angel Dust, with a support beam falling close to KeeKee, scaring the demon cat before running off, and Angel Dust flipping Alastor off who films Yn who smiles and waves at him.

"All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel. Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here." Then the poor drawing of the hotel before the commercial ends.

Back to the Hazbin Hotel-

Alastor turns off the television.

"So what do you think?" Alastor crossed his arms. On the couch, Yn, Charlie and Vaggie were surprised of the commercial being poorly misleading and very offensive to their nature, that Vaggie throws a fit at Alastor.

"I'm sorry. What the fuck was that?" Vaggie cursed at him.

"That was... interesting for sure Alastor." Yn compliment his work.

"Uh, Yeah. One note, Alastor, I mean, first off, thank you so much for making this seriously amazing, but um, maybe the tone is a bit off, We want people to want to come here. This makes it look, um." Charlie thought of the nicest thing to say.

"Bad. The word you're looking for is bad." Vaggie bluntly replied.

"It wasn't that bad, it could have been worse." Yn added.

"That was as bad as it can get." Vaggie stated.

Alastor gave a slightly annoyed face, "Funny. I was going for hilarious." He smiled.

"It didn't explain anything about how we're trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point." Vaggie grumbled.

"Okay, Vaggie does have a point Alastor. The commercial was supposed to let sinners know we are trying to help them." Yn stated.

"Well, Darling, you know I haven't been active in hell for some time and everyone remembers me from my radio show, the proper medium to express oneself. But you insisted on this noisy picture box advertisement." He taps the Television twice with his microphone cane.

"So I had a little fun with it." Alastor said passing his cane to his other hand.

"Oh fun? You had a little fun with it?" Vaggie stands up on the couch.

"Well, this is not what we want to represent us. When you showed up here a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you're mocking us. Nobody's gonna wanna come to a place that a powerful overlord like you thinks is a waste of time." Angel Dust then raises his hand from the couch, catching everyone's attention. Holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

"Yes angel?" Yn sighed.

"If'n ya filming a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?" Angel Dust takes a bottle with one arm before pointing all three arms at himself, but Vaggie doesn't like it.

"Angel, you're a porn star." Vaggie noted.

"A famous porn star. I'll have the horniest sinners knocking these walls down to get in." Angel smirked.

"We are not filming a porn as a commercial." Vaggie explained.

"Why not? Sex sells don't it? I swear if you film me going at it with either Yn or Mr. fancy talk creepy voice here, you'd be rolling in participants willing to stay at this tacky hotel." As he was explaining, Alastor appears right besides the couch next to Angel Dust and laughs with amusement.

"Ha ha. Never going to happen." Alastor stated with a creepy smile.

"Yeah, I'm not going to film a porn." Yn stated.

"Oh! What about a video of both Yn and the creepy going at it?" Hearing that both Vaggie and Alastor twitch, both for completely other reasons.

"No." Yn said bluntly with a small blush to Angel.

"Angel, I appreciate you wanting to use your special skills to, um, attract folks to the hotel, but I really don't want to exploit you... in that way." Charlie noted.

"Oh, please, baby. This body was made to be exploited. I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs. I got the lung capacity." He laughs.

"Oh, I got the legs. The gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff." Charlie chuckles nervously until Charlie's phone rings from Lucifer calling her.

"hold that thought? I'll be right back."

"I could keep going all night, baby." "Please don't Angel." While Angel drinks her beer, Charlie breathes nervously and answers the call.

"Hello? Dad?" As Charlie take the phone call, the scene switches to Vaggie, Angel, and Alastor.

"Hey, I have a question. If Yn and freaky face over there are so powerful, then why can't they just make people stay here?"

"Oh, trust me," Alastor smiles in a mischievously creepy look with dark magic.

"We can." Yn smirks with deadly glowing eyes and dark magic surrounding her.

"Why do you think I'm here?" Husker spoke from the bar as he puts his bottle down.

The camera moves to Husk at the bar.

"You actually think I'd be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn't forcing me?" Husk grumbled, "Puff is the exception..." He gestured to Yn.

As Husk cleans a bottle, Niffty pops up from behind the counter with a hand raised.

"I like being forced." Niffty smiled.

"Keep that to yourself, Nif." Husk grumbled.

"What? You don't love being here with me, Whiskers?" Angel Dust pouted.

"Call me Whiskers again and I'll jam that bottle down your throat." Husk threatened, holding the bottle.

"Kinky. Come on, keep talking dirty." Angel Dust arches his back in a seductive way as Yn giggles quietly.

Vaggie sighs, "Angel. Let Husk do his job. And, no, we can't force sinners to stay here. They need to choose to." Vaggie crossed her arms.

"I'm choosing to be here and I think it's all stupid. We're in hell, toots. That's kind of the end of the road, ain' it?" Angel Dust smirks.

"Well, Maybe it doesn't have to be. Just because nobody has made it out before doesn't mean it's not possible." Yn states as she plays with Angel Dust hair.

Angel Dust places a hand on Yn's shoulder, giving her a deadpan expression while the latter makes the same one.

"Hey, whatever means I can keep crashing here rent-free. Crack is expensive." Angel Dust snickered.

"You don't have to be blunt about that." Yn said pushing Angel back down on the couch.

The scene comes back to Charlie, and after the phone call, she seemed really happy with the news her father brought to her.

"Yeah, I can totally, yeah. I'll head over there right away. Okay?" Charlie hangs up the phone and gasps in excitement.

"Yes..YES!" Charlie chuckles in excitement when she hears about the news until she calls Yn and Vaggie in gibberish, waving very franticly that freaks Yn and Vaggie out, "Vaggie! Yn! Holy, shit!"

"Ah! What?" "Whoa!" Vaggie and Yn turned to see Charlie.

Charlie whiel biting her lip with excitement waves them to 'Get over here!' for some exciting news.

Yn and Vaggie sigh happily and come to Charlie while she is jumping around in a very happy mode. As Angel Dust drinks in the background, Yn and Vaggie meet Charlie behind.

"So, what's going on?" Vaggie asked. Charlie breathes in and out to calm her nerves so she can explain, but she was explaining so fast due to her excitement. Yn pats Charlie's back, trying to calm the poor girl down.

"My dad just called, he said that the leader of the Angel Army wants to meet. He asked if I could go instead." Charlie was hyperventilating, grabbing Yn and Vaggie to get up close. Yn and Vaggie, however, were confused since the Angels were already done with their extermination and won't be back for another year.

"The leader of the Angel Army wants to meet?" Yn asked.

"But...but, the extermination just happened. What could they want this soon after..." Vaggie started. As Vaggie went on, Charlie was in the mood to get her hotel project to work, and remained hopeful that she starts singing.

Song starts here-

"~I can do this! Somehow, I know it! I'll get Heaven behind my plans!~"

"~Charlie, hold on...~"

"~There's just no way I could blow it. Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance!~"

"~It's just a meeting.~"

"~To change their minds, And touch their hearts, Or... whatever angels have!"

"~This could be bad...~"

"~Most likely will be bad.~"

"~Cheer up, girls! This could be swell! Something tells me that today will be a happy day in Hell!~" Charlie grabs Vaggie and Yn's hands and spins them around. She lets go of them and runs off.

"Okay, but just don't... sing to them."

"Charlie?" Just before Vaggie could warn her, Angel Dust, Alice, Niffty, and Keekee were already at the window where they can see Charlie singing out in the destroyed Pentagram City, as Angel Dust turns back to Yn and Vaggie still drinking from a bottle.

"That bitch is halfway down the street!"

"Is she?"

"Oh, she's dancin'!"

"Ugh, no..."

"Charlie! Come back here!" Yn runs after Charlie.

Pentagram City-

Charlie makes her way down the street, oblivious to the destruction and bodies of dead demons everywhere as she continues to sing her song.

"~There's a warm, fuzzy feeling. That wafts through the air. Every street so revealing: It's hard not to stare!~" Charlie comes to a a window of a sex dungeon where a Hellhound is humping against an Imp wearing a sadomasicism mask. They notice her, and Charlie awkwardly fees before continuing to sing.

"~It's a realm so appealing it beats anywhere. If you don't mind the smell...~" Charlie accidentally steps on a dead shark demon that was releasing a very bad smelly fume into her nose. She cautiously avoids the corpse and presses on the street.

"~It's a happy day in Hell!~" Charlie waves at a demon who was holding a newspaper before she catches his attention, revealing himself to be a meth addict with a spoon full of meth.

"Hi, mister!"

"Go fuck yourself!" One demon opens his window, revealing his apartment on fire.

"~There's an endless trash fire that's burning my soul~"

"Hello!"

"~And a ton of barbed wire to shove in his hole!~"

"Ah, excuse me!"

"~Doing what is required, we all have our role.~"

"~I'm not doin' well!~"

"~Another shitty day in Hell!~" Charlie climbs on the trunk of the destroyed car and faces the other direction.

"~If I can show them the dream I've dreamed. That any soul can change!~"

Hazbin Hotel-

From the Hazbin Hotel, Vaggie comes into the watchtower, as if she's calling out to her girlfriends.

"~Those angels minds are hard to change.~"

"~Then they will know everyone can be redeemed. From the evil to the strange!~" Yn pushes through a group of demons that run away or moved aside at the sight of Yn.

"~They're bloodthirsty and deranged!~"

Pentagram City-

"~I can hear all their stories. The lost and displaced. And I know that they're more of an acquired taste. But if I open the door and I give them a place. At my Hazbin Hotel. It'll be a happy day in Hell!~" A truck comes by, and Charlie hitches a ride from behind so she can get around the city such as the porn studios, and the Cannibal Colony. Yn sighs as she looks Charlie riding away.

"Come on Charlie!"

"~From the porn studio. Where the cinephiles go. To watch award-winning demon bukkake shows! To the cannibal town. Where they don't wear a frown 'cause.~" Charlie was shot in the eye with blood from one of the corpses that the cannibals were eating on.

"~Holy shit! Ew, my gosh! WHY?! And I don't give a crow that His brain's got in my eye! Cause I know I can spare them. From Heaven's genocide! I can do this, I just know it!~"

"~There's an endless trash fire that's burning my soul.~"

"~I'll get Heaven behind my plans! There's just no way I could blow it.~"

"~I kinda like the barbed wire that's shoved in my hole.~”

“~Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance! To change their minds.~" Right in the moment, a slug with a Trenchcoat comes into picture, exhibiting his nudist body in front of Charlie, which creeps her out.

"~And touch my parts!~"

"Uh... No thank you. I'm just gonna... ~Fulfill my destiny!~"

"Your loss, bitch!"

"~I can already tell! Today is gonna be a fuckin' happy day in Hell!~" Charlie has gotten to right where she wants to be: the Heaven Embassy with the watchtower.

Song ends here-

Yn run up the stairs and stand next to Charlie while panting a little and wiping some blood off her face, Charlie looks at her conerned.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah... Just had to break through some crowds of sinners to get to you... You could have slowed down a little..." Charlie chuckles a little.

"Sorry." removes a piece of flesh off Yn's hair.

"No, never change." She smiles at Charlie and kisses her cheek.

"Why don't we go in, we don't wanna let the Angel Army leader wait." Yn suggested.

"Right!" She opens the door to peek inside with Yn.

"Hello!" Charlie's voice echoes.

Yn and Charlie enters through the door and finds the whole embassy deserted. She walks to the front desk to check in.

"Hello?" Charlie's voice echoes again, "Well, this is Creepy.." Yn said.

She and Charlie comes to the front desk with no one but a single bell. She taps the bell to ring it, and at the instant, a golden scroll and feather ink pen floats from above over to them.

"Oh, okay.." Charlie signs it.

"That's also creepy." The scroll and feather flies up before disappearing. Right then, the twin doors slide open to show Yn and Charlie the meeting room, and they enter inside the dark room with no one around.

"Uh... hello?"

"Is anyone here? Did the assholes prank us?" The lights suddenly switched on, revealing two angels at the end of the room, with one being a exorcist lieutenant, Lute and the big boss leader of the Angel Army, Adam, who is eating a rib in his hand.

"Sup!"

"Holy shit!" Charlie immediately falls back but Yn catches her after getting surprised by the sudden appearance of two angels in the room. Yn places Charlie back onto the ground and she readjusts herself to introduce herself properly.

"Hi, I'm Charlie, this is Yn. My dad asked me if I could meet you."

"Yeah, I know." Adam eats his rip like a buzzsaw.

"Okay, well. It's nice to meet you."

"Totally. It's nice to meet you too." Adam reaches over to give Charlie a handshake, and as she was about to shake his hand, her hand slips right through, revealing him to be a hologram, fizzing on and off after being touched, which freaks Charlie out.

"Ha! I fucking got you." He turns to Lute.

"Did you see that?" Lute nods once.

"Ha. Good shit." Adam laughs more. Charlie was trying to get something straight with Adam being a hologram.

"Wow, what an old trick." Yn said not amused.

"Still fucking funny." Adam laughed.

"Whatever gets you hard buddy..." Yn said, Charlie was trying to get something straight with Adam being a hologram.

"Uh... so wait. you aren't here?" Charlie questioned.

"Eh, makes senses, I hardly think anyone would willingly come down here." Yn said, Adam laughs.

"Yeah, no, I mean, I love the vibe, totally, I love your tunes. Pretty fucking hardcore, don't get me wrong. But it's such a bummer man. Everything down there's just so "ugh", ya know?" He chuckles dryly.

"Ew."

"Right. 'Snobby c**t.'" Yn insulted him mentally.

"So, I'm happy we've got this opportunity to meet. There's a project that I've been working on that I really want to talk about-" Charlie smiles nervously.

Adam puts his finger on Charlie's lips to quiet her down for a moment.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, slow down. We've got time. How about we get to know each other a little. Mmm. How about lunch? You hungry?" Adam smirked as he took a plate of ribs he's been eating toward Charlie, "Here's my personal favorite. You'll love it."

"Uh. thanks." Charlie smiled a bit.

"No Charlie, don't-" Charlie went to take a piece of a rib, but her hand past right through them, also revealing to be a hologram, as they fizz on and off from the touch, and Adam laughs while Yn stares at Adam clearly not being amused.

"I got you again! Bitch! Fuckin' hilarious!" Charlie makes a small unamused chuckle alongside Adam's hyper laughter.

Hazbin Hotel-

Back at the Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust was constantly looking at Husk with seductive gaze while Husk was glaring daggers at her. Vaggie's feet comes into the camera before switching back to in person.

"Okay, so, Charlie is dealing with something very important, so while she's gone, we are making a new commercial. One that represents her vision and what we're doing here. So, we need a camera." Vaggie said, turning to Alastor, "Alastor?"

Alastor snaps a finger to conjure up a camera for Vaggie; however, the camera is a folding-type old camera from the 1930s with no recording films at that time. Vaggie is unamused.

"A video camera?" Vaggie questioned.

"Hmmm." Alastor's lips made a straight line in annoyance.

Despite his extreme distaste for modern technology, Alastor did what Vaggie requested and snaps his finger again to conjure up a video camera that was poorly used with tapes sticked together.

"Alright! Let's do this!" The camera switched into the camera point of view recording the bar scene with Husk behind the counter reading a script in his claws with Angel Dust at the opposite counter. The camera whirrs back to get a better focus of the two.

"And. Action!" Vaggie called. Husk carefully reads the lines on his script, bringing the script closer to read.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Can I help with anything?.." Husk read slowly.

"I've been a bad boy, and I need a big, strong daddy to put me in my place..." Angel Dust spoke in a seductive tone before straightening himself up, "on the path to redemption!" He smiled.

Husk groans with displeasure and reads the script again, "Well, you come..."

"Oh, yes!" Angel Dust starts moaning.

Husk paused, bored, "to the right place." Vaggie has had it, and stops recording.

"Cut! Okay, Angel, I need you to be less horny if possible, and Husk, can you maybe not have a script in front of your face." Vaggie demanded.

Husk spoke angrily, "I ain't no actor! I can't memorize this shit!"

"Well, we could improve this shit, baby cakes." Angel Dust then got closer to Husk's face, "Rraww.." He purrs seductively.

Husk gets irritated by Angel Dust and shoves him out of the counter painfully hard.

"Whoops." Husk blankly he then grabs a bottle and drinks it.

Vaggie spoke offscreen, "Husk, come on."

The Embassy of Heaven-

Both Yn and Charlie look bored, Charlie propping herself on her elbows while listening to Adam exaggeratingly boosted himself and his sex life. The camera cuts to Adam.

"So, I was playin' this gig, and for some fuckin' reason, this virtue chick was diggin' on the drummer, and it's like, 'do you know who I am? I'm fuckin' Adam. I'm the original dick!' Adam pointing to his penis down the table, "All dicks descend from me. You think you want drummer dick?" Lute shaking her head, "No way! I'm the Dick-fuckin' master!" Adam eats a mouthful of ribs sloppily, "So, anyway, then we fucked, and it was awesome. What'd you do this weekend?" Charlie caught on what Adam said and realizes one thing about the boss.

"Wait, your name is Adam? The first man Adam, that means you... Oh...." Yn laughs at Adam while Charlie pieces the puzzle together and was surprised that this is very awkward and disturbingly cringy from hearing the story Adam was proclaiming, realizing that this is the reason why her mother left him, making her wince with gawkiness.

"That explains so freakin much." Yn tries to calm down.

"I know. I fucking rock, Hottie." He holds a rock pose and smirked at Yn.

"More like suck." Yn stated.

"What did you say?!" Adam shouted.

"I said. You. Suck donkey balls!" Adam scoffs, clearly feeling offended.

"What the fuck do you mean?! I'm awesome!"

"Man, you're the first human ever created, I have a long list of things you fucked up!"

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Adam questioned, Yn summons a scroll in her hands and rolls it open making it roll all across the room very comically, she clears her throat and looks down at the scroll.

"Let's see here..." Yn suddenly burns the scroll and slams her hands onto the table startling Charlie and Adam.

"Why don't we start with the fucking animal names!" Yn shouted at Adam.

"There's nothing wrong with them!" Adam

"Really?! What were you smoking when you named two insects a cockroach and a grasshopper?" Yn questioned.

"Well one of them eats its own shit, what else would I call it?" Adam said, Yn thinks about that and scoffs a little.

"Alright, cockroach is passable but what about grasshopper? You saw that bitch hopping around in the grass and thought: "Oh shit! Thing hops around in the grass like crazy! That's a grasshopper! Bet Heaven would love that." Yn looks at Adam with his eyes wide like a crazy person.

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it went. How'd you know?" Yn's eye twitches.

"You fucking... What about..." She looks down at another scroll.

"A fucking Sarcastic Fringehead! What the hell is that?!"

"It's a very fucked up fish!" Adam answered.

"A fucked up fish? A fucked up fish?! You're a fucked up fish!" He points at Adam who gasps.

"Did you just call me a fucking fish?! I'm not a fucking fish!" Adam threw his hands up dramatically.

"Wow! Congratulations! Then we have a damn.." Yn looks down at his scroll with disbelief.

"A Aha ha Wasp... Were you laughing while naming that and you decided to go for it?! There's a fucking bird called Boobies! What are you 12?!" Adam chuckles when he hears the name pissing Yn off.

"Then we have a small spider named: Sparklemuffin. Sparklemuffin! Now even I'm starting to get offended, that's a name a small girl calls their new pet cat!" Yn stated.

"You know, I'm... I'm really starting to get bummed out." Adam said.

"Oh? Is the little bitch boy getting upset? You wanna take a nap before you throw a tantrum?!" Yn said with a hand on her hip, Adam slams his hands on the table and gets up into Yn's face as the two glare at each other.

"Fuck you! I can see why you're in hell, you hotass looking whore!" Yn gasps feeling offended.

"Did you call me a whore?!" While Yn and Adam argue Charlie and Lute just blankly stare at them.

-Time Skip-

After a good 20 minutes of arguing and throwing insults at each other Charlie groans as she's slowly getting fed up with the arguing and yelling.

"At least I don't look easy to draw!" Yn insulted Adam.

"You did not just say that to me!"

"Yes I-"

"Yn!" Charlie shouted, Yn freezes when she hears Charlie yell out her name. She slowly turns to look at Charlie who is looking at her sternly.

"That's enough! You're on time out!" Yn looks at Charlie in disbelief while Adam laughs at him.

"What! Time out? But Charlie." Charlie points to a chair next to her, Yn lowers her head with a groan and sits down on the chair with her arms crossed.

"Victory!" Yn glares at Adam as she mumbles to herself.

"At least I've slept with Lilith unlike you! She must have seen how sad your dick is and that completely turned her off, you might be the original dick but mine (Yn sometimes like to change her gander during a fun time) is evolved to another plain of existance!... I mean it might not be me really fucking her, it's more like Lilith fucking both me and Lucif-" Charlie slaps a piece of tape over Yn's mouth and forces her to sit back on the chair. The whole room stays in silence, the only small noise heard is the small huffs coming from Yn who is quickly silenced by Charlie.

She brushes off the awkwardness from Adam and gets to her subject of matter in hand.

"Well, Adam, sir. Mr. Adam, sir." Charlie tried to grab Adam's attention.

"Call me, Dickmaster." Adam smirked. If looks couldn't kill, Yn was so done with this guy.

"Adam. You seem like a smart..." She paused, "well, stand up guy" Charlie smiled nervously.

Adam picking his teeth, "Uh-huh."

"And I know you are the leader of the angels. And you are a big thinker, a revolutionary. A...A genius!" Charlie noted.

"I mean, your words, babe." Adam leaned forward.

"Who would really love to put his name on something." Charlie smirked.

"Fucking love putting my name on shit! Shit's the best!" Adam seemed excited.

"It's a solution to our biggest problem!" Charlie got excited.

"Oh, Herpes. Yeah, that's a bitch." Adam sighed.

"No! Our... other biggest problem." Charlie stated, slightly annoyed.

"Oh...uh. ugly people? Math? Global Warming? Nah, wait, that's Earth's problem." Adam tried to remember.

Yn and Charlie could not believe how dumb Adam is about the oblivious fact to their overpopulation and Extermination problem, as Adam tries to make something sense only to him, and stared at him with a deadpan annoyance

"Ummm..." Adam thought.

'Now I get why humans are a bunch of morons...' Yn thought.

Hazbin Hotel-

Niffty tries to stab a bug. She tries to stab the bug, but misses, and starts stabbing the bug multiple times before Vaggie stops her.

"Stab! Stab! Stab!" Niffty smiled brightly.

"Alright Niffty, Niffty. Your line is "We have the cleanest rooms", okay?" Vaggie informed.

"Got it. I'm ready." Niffty gave a thumbs up Vaggie turns the camera to Niffty, "Action!"

Niffty freezes and stares blankly at the camera, leaving Vaggie puzzled. Angel also peers in.

Niffty freezes and stares blankly at the camera without a breath or blinking from the scene. Vaggie panels away, looking puzzled. Angel also peers in. Close up on Niffty making a blank stare with an ominous shrinking pupil. Angel slowly backs away, already creeped out.

"Uhh, cut." Vaggie stated. Niffty snaps out of it and back to her cheerful self as she giggles, "How was that?"

"Well, Niffty you actually have to say the line, so let's roll again..." Vaggie sighed.

"Ok!" Niffty smiled wildly.

"Action!" Vaggie yells as she sat in her director's chair.

Niffty freezes again staring blankly at the camera.

"You're doing great, Vagina." Angel Dust leans over to Vaggie, smiling smugly.

Vaggie seemed irritated, "Cut! Alright, uhh maybe we can try to fix it in post."

"Do you even know what that means?" Angel Dusk asked.

Vaggie sighed, "I'll figure it out!" She yells out angrily.

-Time Skip-

In a dark room with Vaggie sitting in front of a broken TV, watching the poorly edited shots of the commercial. She groans with frustration before Alastor enters the room.

"Seems like you're having a bit of a trouble there, hmm?" Alastor smirked.

"Ugh, este pendejo (this asshole)... Why are you even here?" Vaggie grumbled.

Alastor takes a seat on a couch next to her, "For the entertainment," Alastor's shadow slips out of his form before reappearing behind the couch, making laughing gestures, "I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and..." The shadow disappears, "..fail spectacularly, like you are doing now. Good job!"

Vaggie was getting ticked off by Alastor and his carefree insults, stands up and turns the camera toward him.

Vaggie points the camera to Alastor, "And here is Alastor, the egocentric piece of shit that..." As Vaggie was viewing the camera scene up to Alastor's face, the video camera glitches violently from green to red and Vaggie freaks out, dropping the static camera on the floor.

"UGH!" She groaned.

"I wouldn't try that, my dear." Alastor said, pointing to his face, "This face was made for radio." As Alastor explains, his pupils turn into the shape of radio dials, He had a nightmarish smile while red symbols float around him and the scene goes nearly static before fixing itself back to normal on Vaggie. She has had it with Alastor's insults and walks up to him.

"That's it. I don't care who or what you are. If you're staying here, you're going to make this work, because it won't be so..." Vaggie spoke imitating Alastor's voice, "...' entertaining'.." She went back to her normal voice, "to watch over an empty hotel, will it, shitass?" As Vaggie returns to her chair, Alastor approaches her, "Fair enough. I'll tell you what." Alastor smirked.

"Let's make a deal." Alastor smirked.

"Pfft, you think I'm that stupid making a deal with a demon like you?"

"Not for you soul, just a simple deal. I do this for you and you never ask me to engage with this frivolous television technology every again. Or my dear Yn and Charlie can come back to absolutely nothing: Your choice." Alastor crossed his arms. Vaggie glances away for a brief moment before making her decision as she sighs, "Fine" Vaggie picks up the camera and gives it to Alastor, which he evaporates it with a clap of his hand.

"Now then!" Alastor smirked. Alastor snaps his finger and transforms the hotel into a film set with the hotel staff into a 50s style film crew. Ink demons conjure up as additional background characters.

"Alright everyone, let's make a fucking commercial." Vaggie smirked.

The Embassy of Heaven-

Yn who's mouth is still taped while sitting down and Charlie looking exasperated with another of Adam's sexist rants.

"When you take her out for the fifth time and she still expects you to pay the check but you're like." Adam speaks in a high pitched-voice, "Hey, I thought you wanted equality."

"NO! our shared problem of overpopulation in Hell!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Ohh, well that's not a problem! We got that covered!" Adam said turning to Lute, "Lute, how many demons did you kill this year?"

"Got a good 275 this year, sir." Lute stated.

"275? Woah! Badass! Awesome job, danger tits! Pound it." Adam raises a fist for Lute to make a fist-bump, which she did.

"Uh no, not awesome. Those are my people, you know that right?" Charlie exclaimed.

Adam paused, "Oh yeah. That must suck for you!" Adam bursts into laughter.

"But these are souls... Humans souls just the same as the ones you have up in heaven." Charlie stated.

Lute spoke coldly, "They're not the same. They had their chance and they earned damnation."

"You're wrong. Sinners made mistakes, sure, but everyone makes mistakes." Charlie noted.

"Angels don't make mistakes." Lute noted as Adam glared at her, "Excuse me. I'm sorry."

"You really think that." Charlie exclaimed.

"I know that." Lute looked away.

'I bet to differ bitch, than what does that make Lucifer?' Yn thought.

"Yeah, I've never made a mistake in my fuckin' life." Adam smirked. Lute starts to walk around Charlie while the room starts to slowly become dark with a hit of red light inside.

"The only reason you're still here is because daddy gave you and your hellborn kind a pardon from an exorcist blade. How does that feel, to know how little you matter?" Lute looked at Charlie close.

"How does that feel, to know how little you matter?" Yn glares at her, her eyes glowing red with fire.

"Oops, almost out of time. Guess we should get into it." Adam smirked.

Song starts here-

"Oh fuck!" Charlie rushes to present her plan as fast as she could, "Okay I've got a lot to get through and not a lot of time and I feel like you weren't hearing me before so here it goes."

she opens a small portal where she takes out her drawings of her plans.

Charlie coughs as she starts making a fast-talk, which is close to singing as she gets all over stuff out on the table to show them what she means.

"~I know Hell's population is out of control. It's a bad situation It's taking a toll, If we rehab these Sinners And cleanse all their souls. At my Hazbin Hotel-~" Charlie rambles through the stacks of paper to get something. "Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself!" Charlie smiled and held up some more papers. "Right Extermination!"

"~I know you guys fly down Just to kill once a year, And it must be annoying To schlep all the way here, If they join you in Heaven That trip disappears! You can wave that chore farewell *deep breath* It'll be a happy day-~"

"~Let me stop you right there, safe us precious time~"

"Oh" Charlie gulped.

"~If what you're suggesting Is letting them climb. Up the ladder. Oh, they'd rather cross the Pearly Gates?"

"Well, uh..." Charlie tried to speak.

"~Sorry, sweetie. But there's no defin' their fates! 'Cause Hell is forever. Whether you like it or not. Had their chance to behave better. Now they boil in the pot. 'Cause the rules are black and white. There's no use in tryin' to fight it. They're burnin' for their lives. Until we kill'em again!~"

"Okay, but.." Charlie was interrupted.

"~Just try to chillax, babe. You're wasting your breath.~"

Charlie laughed nervously, "Hehe..."

"~Did I hear you imply. That they don't deserve death? Are they Winners? Are they Sinners? 'Cause it's cut and dry.~"

Charlie held up one of her drawings, "Well, actually, if you take a look..."

"~Fair is fair, an eye for an eye! And when all's said and done 'Said and done' There's the question of fun 'Fun' And for those of us with Divine Ordainment, Extermination is entertainment!~" Yn stands up and rips the tape from her mouth with an angry expression but it's replaced with a smirk as she levitates into the shadows of the room.

"~Bow-now-now-nownow Guitar solo, fuck yeah! Oh, da-ah-ah now-now-n-now-n-now-n-now-n-nownownow.~"  Adam plays a fake guitar. After Adam throws Charlie's papers at her, she gets so angry that she turns into her demon form, making growling noise.

"Ugh..." Charlie growls.

"~Hell is forever. Whether you like it or not. Had their chance to behave better.~" Four golden mirages of Exorcists appear, surrounding Charlie from all sides. Charlie seemed shocked, "Where the Hell did you people come from?!"

"~*Everyone except Charlie* Now they boil in the pot. 'Cause the rules are black and white. There's no use in tryin' to fight it. They're burnin' for their lives. Until we kill 'em again! Fuckin' Hell's forever.~"

"~And it's meant to suck a lot. So give up your dumb endeavor. 'Cause you don't have a shot!-" Charlie glares at Adam, starting to transform into her full demon form while burning her papers that are in her hands.

"~Long as I've got your attention. I guess I should probably mention. That we made the determination." Adam summons a golden scroll that he shows to Charlie. The scroll reads: FUCK YOU I DO WHAT I WANT!! with a crude drawing of Adam at the bottom flipping Charlie off, "~To move up the next Extermination!~"

"What?!" Charlie seems shocked. Yn's eyes widen in shock but her eyes narrow quickly and she grits her teeth.

"~Can't wait a whole year. To slaughter those little cunts. I know it's just been a week. But we'll be back in six months!~" Despite being a hologram, Adam grabs Charlie and throws her right out of the door.

"Um, wait, you-you Ugh, SHIT!" Charlie runs towards the closing doors trying to talk to Adam and when the doors close right in front of her she punches it with small tears welling up in her eyes.

"Yn!" She looks around and realizes that Yn is still in the room.

Inside the room Adan is laughing at Charlie, he turns to look at Lute.

"Did you hear that bitch?! She, she really thinks those cunt's could go to Heaven." Adam laughed.

"You really are pathetic, aren't you?" Adam and Lute turn to look towards a corner were they see Yn levitate out from with a smirk on her face.

"What the hell are you still doing here?!" Adam shouted at her.

"Oh, I'm here to kill you." Adam stares at Yn before he bursts out laughing while Lute smirks.

"And how are you gonna do that? Don't you remember?" He waves his hand through the table.

"We're not down there!" Yn smiles showing his sharp teeth.

"That doesn't matter." In a blink of an eye Yn appears in front of Adam and Lute, she grabs their hands but what they didn't expect happens, Yn is able to physically grab their hands.

Heaven-

In a similar room but in Heaven Adam and Lute stare horrified as Yn slowly starts to break through the "hologram". Yn's face becomes distorted, her eyes twitch with three glowing orbs floating in them, her mouth becomes wide revealing multiple rows of teeth.

"What's wrong? You getting scared bitch boy?" Yn laughed.

"Cut it!" Lute runs over to a switch that cuts off the hologram connection between Heaven and Hell.

"Ahh!" Adam screams in pain. Lute turns around and she comes face to face with Yn who grabs her arm and burns it causing her to scream, but she fights through the pain and pulls on the switch causing Yn to disappear but not without letting out a small haunting laugh. Adam stays silent for a second before laughing.

"Whoo! That was hot for a weird one! I'm hungry as hell, I'm gonna get some food." Adam walks out of the room leaving, he looks down at his arm that had a burnt symbol. Lute who falls onto her knees alone, looks down at her arm and sees a symbol burned onto it as well.

The symbol glows red and both Adam and Lute's veins turn red too as the energy travels up into their head. They groan but stop when the symbol stops glowing. Both opens their eyes that flash red.

"That fucking... Dirty... sinner~" Adam and Lute said nsync. They both held their arm and chuckles.

The Embassy's of Heaven-

Charlie is walking back and forth in the hall ways, waiting for the doors to the room to open and hopefully Yn walking out of there fine. She gasps as the doors open, and Charlie sees Yn walk out.

"Sorry I took-" She is cut off as Charlie hugs her tightly.

"You're okay!" Yn chuckles.

"Of course I am. I just had to stay for a while and show that asshole who he's talking to." Charlie hugged Yn tighter. She sighs, thinking about that Adam said.

"Can we just go home?"

"Yeah. Let's go hun."

Hazbin Hotel-

Yn and Charlie sadly return to the hotel. Vaggie runs to them and hugs them.

"Yn! Charlie! How did it go, did they listen?" Vaggie smiled.

"Oh, they sure did hear it But..." Charlie didn't get to finish.

"Oh come here, we have something exciting to show you." Vaggie leads Yn and Charlie to group, "Alastor pulled some strings and it's about to air."

"I pulled a few limbs too, hahaha.." Alastor laughed.

"Wait, the commercial? You all made a new one?" Charlie smiled.

"Yeah, one of my better performances if I do say so myself." Angel Dust fixed his fluff.

Charlie beams brightly, "That's... that's amazing."

"Well haven't you been productive." Yn smiles at Angel Dust.

"shh, it's starting." Vaggie squealed.

TV: "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel -" The TV cuts to the News report. The group except Yn, Alastor and Niffty annoyed and angrily complain Charlie even slightly transforming into her full demon form.

"Breaking news in Hell today! We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next Extermination is happening sooner than ever before. Do you know what that means, Tom?" Katie Killjoy exclaimed.

"No, what does that mean, Katie?" Tom Trench replied.

"It means we're all royally fucked!" Katie's eye twitches.

Screaming can be heard from Sinners as the time on the Clock Tower reduces to 176 days till the next Extermination.

"Wait what? Why?!" Angel Dust spoke.

Yn then stands up and starts to walk towards the front doors but she's stopped by Vaggie who grabs her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Vaggie questioned.

"I'm just gonna go talk to someone... important." Vaggie looks at Yn who narrows her eyes concerned.

"Okay.. Just be safe out there." Yn smiles at Vaggie.

"You don't have to worry about me Vaggie." Yn kisses her forehead and walks out, six wings grow out of her back and she blasts off into the sky as Vaggie looks up at her.

"But I do." Yn flies higher and higher into the air when she sees a barrier that surrounds Hell. Yn closes her eyes and after a second they snap open revealing glowing white eyes. The barrier in front of Yn breaks open allowing Yn to fly out of Hell and right towards Heaven.

Heaven-

Yn lands in front of God's golden castle but her form has changed instead of her more demonic form Yn's form has changed into a beautiful angelic being that looks like she's made out of pure light and holy energy with multiple pure white wings and a huge white halo that surrounds a huge crown made out of holy energy.

Yn walks towards the gigantic golden doors that are guarded by powerful angels. When the angels see Yn walking towards them, they step back and bow in front of her acting if she was God himself. The doors open automatically in front of Yn who walks in.

God's Throne Room-

In God's throne room a seraphim angel is talking to God when they are cut off as the doors to the throne room open and Yn marches in, her presence shaking the room. God smiles at the sight of Yn while the angel bows, Yn looks down at them.

"Leave us please." The angel nods and walks out of the throne room. Yn folds her arms and looks at God who lets out a small sigh.

"What's wrong dear?" God questioned sitting on his throne.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?! What's wrong is that the extermination was shortened to six months!" She yells out shaking the entire castle violently. But the shaking eventually dies down.

"Yeah... I heard about that..." God said still smiling.

"You have to stop that, it's complete insanity!" She starts walking back and forth while waving her arms around.

"I don't even know how that was allowed! I know it's Hell but that doesn't mean everyone should be killed without a care!"

"I know, I know Yn." Yn looks at him.

"If you know, do something about it." Yn demanded.

"I can't. It's not that dire yet."

"Not that dire. That's bullshit." Yn scoffs and crossed her arms. God sighs and walks over to Yn and hugs her from behind, putting his head on her shoulder.

"I might do something about this, I only ask if you let me have you~" God offers. Yn moves away from him with an expression that tells him 'No'.

"Then that's that. Since when did you start caring about the sinners?" God question.

"I don't. but down there are people that I care about deeply and if this continues I'm afraid that they'll get hurt. And if they do, I'll erase all of creation as a whole!" Yn said. God spins Yn around to face him as he wraps his arms around her.

"I promise you, I'lI take care of this if it crosses the line." God swears to her dead in the eyes as he held her close to him.

Pentagram City-

A drone scours an area until it finds a dead Exorcist corpse with its head missing. The drone scans the corpse.

"We found the body, sir. They've never managed to kill one of us before. We should just go down there now and destroy them!" Lute spoke, upset and pissed off.

"No, no. We can't risk them catching on. But, don't worry, when we come back, there won't be a demon left alive to pull a stunt like this again!" Adam sighed as he looked at his burnt arm as it glowed.

(At this point I’m not gonna cover up the bad words so keep in mind I’m future they will be revealed bad words for some)

Previous Page: Ch. 3: The Murder Family

Next Page: Ch. 5: Radio Killed the Video Star

Beginning: Front Cover

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #reverse harem #arackniss #axel gear #alastor #angel dust #adam #charlie morningstar #husker #monty python #moxxie and millie #cherri bomb #carmilla carmine #belpegor #stolas #stella #octavia #lute #blitzo #Yn the crimson queen #god #micheal #katie killjoy #tom trench #SoundCloud

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I can’t BELIEVE for the nights and days of life is over, I was starting to think that novel would last forever.

I hope you all are ready for the fact that it’s not over here on my blog, as my 5-5 ass is not done with it yet. In that respect, here are the chapter ten notes. No spoilers in the comments for me and any people who haven’t read yet, or are for some godforsaken reason, reading along with me.

And @mochalottie u are a queen and my favorite, I’m so sorry for taking so so long to read your work and being so bad at responding to your dms, I’m at the stage in adulting where every text from anyone seems like a monumental task lol. I’m trying to manage time better and respond better. It doesn’t help that I work in a high school so it blocks tumblr!!

Onto the for the nights and days of life chapter 10 notes! Happy Halloween all!

-The way I feel like my own children are growing up too fast when I hear that Spider and Neteyam aren’t sitting with Mo’at in the infirmary much anymore. 

-Ur fighting my Jake and Mo’at spend an insane amount of time gossiping headcanon. Ur simply spitting on it. Just think about it, just pICTURE it. Mo’at’s grinding up a paste and Jake sneaks in like “…Have your heard about what happened with Moe and Ninat?” and Mo’at goes “JAKE SULI I would never talk behind someone’s back. Tell me everything.”

-Hey, Neytiri being like unable to acknowledge Paz as Spider’s mom? Banger. It really gets to me. She’s like well fuck off that’s my kid all while doubting herself. But Mo’at's right baby Spider was Neytiri’s number one fan from day one, he was literally always a momma’s boy.

-Also because you mentioned the kids taking an afternoon nap, I wanted to take a moment to just highlight how hellish that year or so where Neteyam, Kiri, and Spider were done with naps and Lo’ak still needed them was. You know his ass threw the bIGGEST tantrum every time it was time for a nap and everyone else was still playing. He was enRAGED because no one has fomo like Lo’ak. The kid was feral, crying overtired tears simply insisting that he is absolutely not tired and does nOT NEED A NAP.

-Spider being in the sleeping pile is one of the things that makes my heart grow three sizes every time I read about it. But you made it 20 times worse by adding in that by himself he spreads out for safety but he feels safe in the pile, like I’ll kill myself.

-I literally can prove Spider always asks for banana fruit and I’m starting to become convinced it’s the only fruit he knows.

-Lol Norm and Max sitting on Earth absolutley fIGHTING over who has to tell Jake things are going BadTM. 

-Lol I just literally kNEW that Neteyam wanted to make Spider a present, and yet instead his gift to him was even more of a complex. 

-YOU CANNOT TEASE TARSEM LOVE STORY TO ME. ALSO I’M NOW ASSUMING HE’S GAY THAT SCENE READ GAY. 

-This is what both Jake and I thought of when Neytiri told him to keep his secrets:

SHE QUOTED THAT MOVIE ALMOST BAR FOR BAR MAN, IF I WAS JAKE THAT WOULD’VE SENT MEEEE. When I was younger I used to have to share a bed with my cousin on family vacations, and I’m telling you bitch is possessed. She sleep walks and sleep talks, and sleep assaults me in my sleep. But one time she fucking quoted The Princess Bride and the next morning when I told her I loved that movie, she told me she’s never seen it. I have never felt more fear for my life. Picture Jake struggling to explain the plot of Lord of the Rings, his ass has seen it, his twin was a nerd. 

-Jake as soon as his child needs comfort: Oh fuck, I’M the only one here!

-Spider, like 7: I won’t be able to mate dad. Jake: I have to go. I’m not ready for this.

-HUMANS ARE BACK, time for things to get a little fucking sad. I know I’m ALMOST twenty chapters behind and you guys are already in it, but I’m just getting started baybeeee.

-Also I love Spider calling his parents Ma and Da, your Irishness has crept in.

#the spookiest thing of all is me posting notes #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #spider sully #neteyam sully #mo'at sully #jake sully #neytiri sully #paz socorro #kiri sully #lo'ak sully #norm spellman #max patel #tarsem #fic recs #melissa does notes #melissa og #melissa on avatar (cameron) #fanfiction

[kharmii]

I wrote this as a reply to a post, but maybe it should get added to the tags so anybody getting into the ship has a place to look up origins all in one place for context. There are too many people with 'Queen Bee Syndrome' going around pissing in people's cheerios telling them what they can and can't ship. It isn't as bad as they say, yo. It was supposed to be humorous! Anyway....

I've been seeing so much Catholic guilt on Twitter these days where people be like, "I can't believe I used to like Trainwreck! It makes me want to vomit! Why would I think it was sexy to see a guy beating up another guy!" It's either pretentious virtue signaling, or it's coming from scared young girls being brow-beaten by the threat of cancel culture into having to prove how good and perfect they are in fandom. Get over yourselves and check out my collection of vintage Trainwreckshipping posts that (facetiously) explain the context of why violence was funny.

Emmet goes to fight God but Arceus hides behind a pillar and points to Volo.

Manipulative Volo laughs about what he did but...oh no! Here comes the pissed off brother!!

Princess bride meme rough handling of Volo.

Emmet chokes Volo.

TAKE THAT YOU VILE FIEND!! (Emmet punches Volo meme)

Emmet chases Volo riding on Arceus.

Emmet chokes Volo but ends up with a knife pressing into his gut.

Volo plays a mean prank to mess with the twins.

Sexual tension with a knife part 1.

Sexual tension with a knife part 2.

Sexual tension with a knife part 3.

Volo so smug and manipulative; Emmet so crazy.

Death threat.

Emmet bloodies Volo's nose.

Where Volo is actually evil and bad ends Emmet.

Emmet coming to whoop some ass.

Giratina possessed Emmet threatens to assault Volo.

Emmet goes after Volo with a brick.

Brave soul who is still doing toxic trainwreck in modern times.

Oops (It never gets old).

Me taking the piss part 1.

Me taking the piss part 2.

If I missed any, please pm me and I'll add them (and I'll keep adding to this post as I finds 'em).

This might be an unpopular opinion, but if someone gives you a hard time for being into this ship, you could always reply along the lines of, "Fuck you, pretentious, virtue-signaling twat. I don't owe you or anybody else anything. Nobody should be judging a person's morality based on what silly thing they ship" It might not get you any friends now, but I'm holding out hope we one day get past cancel culture. Currently, we give too much power to seasoned bullies who use the current political environment as a way to get around the social stigma of anti-bullying campaigns.

#context #classic trainwreck #submas #subway bosses #emmet #volo #trainwreckshipping #collection #the classics #fandumb fail #srsly tho #stop it #queen bee syndrome #fuck off #ingo #arceus #pokemon: legends arceus #toxic culture #ask me about my million stupid bj aus