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newtsniffles · 2 years

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It Is Always Him | Daemon Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: You could not help but to worry about your uncle who was currently fighting a war, because it was him. It was always him.

Warning/s: Not proof read, other than that, just some fluff I suppose? Daemon being caring?

Word count: 1.8k

You had always loved the dawn. The rise of the sun in King’s Landing always casted a fiery hue over the once starlit sky. From The Red Keep, you had one of the best views in what you would say in all of Westeros. The same heated colours would cast their reflections onto The Narrow Sea, and your lilac irises would take the sight in like a child would with a table full of sweets. Always, since the first name day you could remember, you would wake and gaze out the windows of your bed chambers. Even if it meant you to be left tired and in need of an afternoon nap when the sun reached the peak. However, these days you found yourself staring out to the horizon more often than usual. In the dawn, throughout the day as the sun flew overhead, when the day turned to dusk, and out to the stars on many sleepless nights. Was nobody worried for your uncle but you? Did anybody else care that he could die at war?

The second child of King Viserys and his late wife, Aemma, you were ignored as another daughter. Rhaenyra was ‘The Realm’s Delight,’ the first born by mere hours, but you? You were just another failed attempt at a son. Sometimes you wondered, if you had of been born even a few moments before your dear sister, would it be different? Your uncle, Daemon, was the only person you could ever say was really ‘there’ for you. Yes, he tended to disappear for a while every now and then or get exiled only to be back a few turns of the moon later. But it was him who understood you. It was him who knew the feeling of being outcasted by his family, to be alone yet surrounded by the living and breathing. For it was him who chose the dragon egg that laid in your cradle with you as a babe. It was him who helped you to name the large, black-scaled phantom. A name your beloved dragon, Daerys, had earnt for herself as she blended into the night sky, invisible to the eyes of people below. It was Daemon that taught you as a child to speak High Valyrian. It was Daemon that showed you a few tricks in protecting yourself. It was Daemon who—It was always, Daemon.

Since you had heard of the war, you would stare out to the sky in hopes of seeing Caraxes swooping his way to the dragon pit with your uncle on his back. It has been two years, and you have yet to see what you desire. You had begged your father with each turn of sun to moon that he would send help for Daemon. After two full turns of the seasons, he did, but never was it for you.

The sight of a Targaryen ship in the distance drew you from your thoughts. Ah, Rhaenyra must be returning from her tour to find a suitable husband. That was one thing that you never found yourself jealous of. Father had recommended to you that you get married as well, but it was less of a rush as you were not set to inherit the throne. You could not tell how long you had been staring at the ship before a piercing roar had echoed through the never-ending skies. You need not a moment to realise the sound of Caraxes, nor do you need a mere second as his red, snake-like body tore through the sky. The question you were asking yourself was only this: was your uncle on the back of The Blood Wyrm? If so, was he injured, was he even alive? Or did the dragon carry his bloodstained body?

“Kepus—” uncle. You rushed out the doors of your chambers. Nimble feet made their way to the throne room without a second thought as the whispers of servants echoed around the halls. You stood to the right, looking across on tipped toes to your sister who stood across the way. She was always kind to you, you loved her dearly, and she was aware of the affection you held for your uncle. With a nod of her head, a breath you had not realised you had been holding left your lips. He was alive.

It was when he turned the corner and walked proudly with his chest puffed that you finally felt the tension leave your body. You had barely listened to a thing he said to your father, too busy thanking the Gods for his safe return. As the two embraced, and appeared as brothers for once in their lives, a small smile had graced your face. For this was the best thing that could happen, perhaps your father would let him stay here instead of exiling him for going against orders again. Perhaps, with this win under his belt, your father would now care less of your affections for Daemon, and let you spend your leisure time with him freely.

“We shall throw festivities to honour your valiant effort and victory, brother.”

You had never been one for these sorts of gatherings, or well… gatherings in general. There was no point in being at them, only to be disregarded, ignored, alone. But this was to celebrate Daemon’s victory. And you had hope that he would seek you out to talk, that he would embrace you so you could hear the beating of his heart, further confirming for you that he is alive and well. Leaning against a stone pillar, you watched onwards as he was mid-discussion with your father, Alicent, and Rhaenyra. You could go over there, but you would rather stay where you are. Not a fan of Alicent, or your father for a fact, considering he was no fan of yours. You wondered if Daemon had thought about you at all in his years away. If he had missed, you as much as you did him. It was when he gazed up at you through lightly coloured brows from a distance that you knew he had thought of you, at least once. His purple eyes always told what his words could not. And his eyes in this very moment told you that he too, did not wish for these festivities, that he too would rather be in your company and your company alone.

“Excuse me,” Daemon gave a nod to his brother before beginning the short walk away from the festivities to you. As he moved closer, you took note of his features. He had not changed much, and you were grateful that no scars were visible for it would pain you greatly to know he was once hurt. His hair had been cut short, a strand fell over his forehead, and you noted that it suited him well. “Issi ao daor emare kirimves, ñuha dōna niece?” Are you not having fun, my sweet niece? Daemon came to a stop, barely half a metre away from his niece.

“Ao gīmigon īlen dōrī really mēre syt these ra, kepus.” You know I was never really one for these things, uncle.

“Nor iksin nyke.’ nor am I.

“I thought you would be enjoying this. It is for your victory after all,” you gazed up at him playfully, for he was far taller than you. “Perhaps now, father might leave you alone.”

“I think we both know that not possible,” he smirked down at you. A few moments passed of you only looking at each other. But it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable.

“I missed you,” you couldn’t help but admit. “I begged father everyday to send help. But I hear that in the end, you did not need it.” Daemon glances to the side before reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“You need not worry about me, dōna riña,” sweet girl. He smiles softly, a smile reserved for you only. The names he called you never failed to leave you flustered. “Were you treated well while I was away?”

“The same as usual. I tend to be left to keep to myself,” you sigh. “Rhaenyra has been busy with heir duties, despite her wishes. I don’t believe I have had a proper conversation with someone in many turns of the moon. It has been lonely.” Daemon’s purple eyes stare into the lilac of your own.

“Iksā daor mērī, dōrī mērī,” you are not alone, never alone. Daemon whispered in their native tongue for only them to understand.

“Skorkydoso would ao gīmigon? emā daor issare kesīr,” how would you know? You have not been here. You tried desperately to push away the tears that threaten to fall like a wounded soldier in battle. Daemon grabs your hand, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he pulls you around the corner and away from any prying eyes. Hand moving to settle on your cheek, thumb grazing a lone tear.

“Īlen mijegon iā iderennon. Nyke would dōrī henujagon ao mērī ondoso iderennon.” I was without a choice. I would never leave you alone by choice. “Viserys is weak. Lo nyke gōntan daor jikagon naejot vīlībāzma, īlon mirre would botagon,” If I did not go to war, we all would suffer.

“I know,” you sighed. Your arms wrap around his torso, head moving to nuzzle into his chest. His own arms move, one around your shoulders, the other hand cradles your head. “I was scared that you would not return.”

“But I did,” his hand runs across your white hair before pulling back to place them both on your cheeks, bringing your head out from his chest. In his eyes, you could see a man that has been to war, a man that has faced death, and been the death of many men. And yet in his presence, you weren’t sure it possible that you could feel any safer. And as you gazed into his eyes, you didn’t know if it was boldness or weakness, but you leant forward and placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Daemon closed his eyes and rested his forehead against your own

“īlon jorrāelagon naejot jikagon aril,” we need to go back.

“Gaomagon īlon?” Do we? Daemon whispered. His thumb moved to run along your lower lip before he passionately connected them with his own. Your back pushes against the wall behind you in his fervour. Your arms move around his neck, fingers toying with the hair on the back of his neck.

“People could see,” you whisper as his lips follow along your jaw and down to your neck.

“Let them,” Daemon presses one last kiss to your temple. “Ivestragī zirȳ gīmigon iksā ñuhon, dōna jorrāelagon. Iksā protected ondoso nyke.” Let them know you are mine, sweet love. You are protected by me. His. Yes, that sounds as it should. It is always him. It is always, Daemon.

enjoy my work? consider tipping me for a kofi

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #matt smith #matt smith imagine #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith x reader #daemon targaryen imagines

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laurasimonsdaughter · 5 months

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By the shore there once lived a fisherwoman and her wife. Together they had three children, each as beloved as the other. They were a sweet sight to behold. The eldest had hair the colour of chestnut, that flowed like waves. The middle one had hair the colour of mahogany, that fell down in ringlets. And the youngest had hair like ebony, that curled straight upwards.

All their days their mothers had kept careful watch over them, but one evening, when the fisherwoman had not yet returned from the open sea, her wife received an urgent message calling for her assistance. There was nothing to depend on if not the help of kind neighbours, so the woman called her children inside, drew all the curtains, and told them to stay within for as long as she was gone.

“For it will be a dark night, but a clear one,” she warned. “And you will surely end up elf-shot or pixie-led if you go out in the gloaming.”

All three of them promised faithfully not to set a foot out of doors and their mother quickly set off to be of help to her neighbour.

For a while the three children were content within, but the further the sun sank below the horizon, the more restless they became. At last the eldest could take it no longer.

“I shall only draw back one of the curtains,” he said, and all three of them crowded around the window to look.

Outside the sky had slowly turned to dark velvet and since no moon rose to light it, far before true darkness had come the shimmering pinpricks of stars appeared. The whole world seemed to glisten in soft grey and it was not long before the second of them grew twice as restless as before.

“I will only open the window,” they said, and all three of them leaned against the windowsill to breathe in the night air.

But never had the gentle wind smelled so sweet and it was not long before the youngest could no longer contain herself.

“I will only go and sit on the windowsill,” she said, but no sooner had she let her legs dangle over the side or her siblings came to join her. And once they were all there, staring up at the sky with the wind in their hair and the distant rush of the sea in their ears, it did not take long until they slid off the windowsill and jumped to the ground.

“We shall not go up to the cliffs,” they told each other. “Nor inland towards the moors. We shall only go to see the sea and then straight back again.”

After all, they would be back before their mother ever knew they were gone, and they would have done so without ever setting a foot out the door.

Gaily they ran down to the shore, where the stars hung lower above the waves than they had ever seen. White mist danced above the water, and the sea foam danced as if rising to meet it. Amidst all this splendour, they suddenly heard the soft sound of hooves and from across the starlit beach, a beautiful pony pranced towards them.

The children gasped and cried in delight. They had never seen any animal half as beautiful. Its coat was as dark as the dusk and its eyes were like shimmering pools. And it came towards them quite as if to befriend them.

“I want to ride it!” the middle child exclaimed in raptures and they eagerly rushed forward.

“No, I get to ride it!” the eldest insisted.

“No I want to!” the youngest cried.

“Then you ride behind me,” the middle one said boldly and they caught the pony, as gentle and willing as a steed could possibly be, by its long black manes.

“There will not be room for all of us on its back!” the eldest protested.

But as soon as his sibling had scrambled up the pony’s back, it was clear there was plenty of room for him left. And once he was seated astride behind them, even though it had not seemed like a large animal at all, there was precisely enough room for their little sister to join them.

So laughing and hooting they all climbed onto the pony’s back. “Giddy-up! Giddy-up!” they cried. “Ride on!”

But the pony did not trot down the beach from whence it came. It turned and tossed its manes and galloped straight for the sea.

The children screamed, but no matter how they struggled, they were incapable of dismounting. The animal’s slick coat suddenly stuck like tar and the louder they screamed, the faster it ran. There was no glee in the children now, but all the more in the creature, for kelpies delight in their cruel games. Neighing and whinnying it rushed towards the waves, but with only seven strides away from the foaming tide the youngest of the children cried:

“Your pocket knife! Take your pocket knife!”

And quick as a fox she grabbed her own little knife from her skirt pocket and cut through the cloth so that it ripped and tore and she was free. Her brother and sibling followed suit and one after the other they tumbled off the speeding creature’s back, with only the fabric of their clothes left behind as the kelpie plunged screaming into the waves.

The mist whirled and the sea broiled and then there was nothing left to be seen, but the children did not stand to look. They ran, breathless and wide-eyed, hearts pounding and feet flying, all the way back to their home.

There they found their mother, pale with worry. And so glad was she to see them all safe and sound that she did not even scold them for going out into such a dangerous night, nor for tearing all their pretty clothes.

For the rest of their lives, those three children watched the waves for a sign of the kelpie, but not a trace of it could be found. Not a hoof print in the sand, not a strand of midnight mane, not even a whisper on the cold sea breeze.

#kelpie #kelpies #faity tale #laura drabbles #family #siblings #nonbinary representation #if you read my fanfic you know what this is from #but I wanted a happy ending #and escaping from kelpies by cutting your clothes is Traditional #even though it's in a different context than this #I think it's allowed

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aita-blorbos · 2 months

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(OC) AITA for trying to protect my people?

I (???, F) am a fundamentally deceased goddess. I had sacrificed myself to protect those who live in me, my hollow, my planet, the only physical form left of me after my death. It seems that I had been asleep for a while, but have been awoken once more by the plea of my people. Trouble had been brewing since my death, and so I had to wake up. However, I have been lost since and have been wandering in the form of a haze, traveling from area to area, from the lowest depths of the sea to the peaks of the ice cold mountains...

I'd barely found anything or anyone to help me retain a physical form to help my poor people... that is, until I thought of my (quite literal) fallen stars, my warriors who have been by my side until my own death. Surely one of them must still be wandering around. Their kind are strong. Resilient. One of them must have survived, no?

It took me a while, but I had finally stumbled upon one of them, working by the docks of a reforming town after the cataclysm of my death, whole in body but seemingly unable to remember who he had been, or what he was capable of.

Let us call him O (???, M). He was the youngest of my starlit warriors, a child when he and his older sister had crashed upon my earth, and one of the most that had been curious with civilization. He'd interact with people often, taught people often. I thought it was fitting for him to still be helping the common folk, even if he had not remembered what he'd been doing before our "deaths."

I was hesitant, and it took me months of observing O, seeing whether or not I should be meddling in his life, but it seems that my state of undeath had cause my former body to stir, causing power earthquakes and tsunamis to this small coastal town, as well as my status as a haze to slowly start spiral out of my control to become a poison to everyone, as my body and mind are in discordance.

O was the only one capable of saving this many people at once, and at the point that I saw him, there was this fire in his eyes. His determination. I knew I had the power to help him, perhaps not as far as to help him completely remember who he had been, but at least what he was capable of. So I did.

I took control of his body as soon as he jumped in to save the many people trapped under the rubble. I gave him his strength back. I gave him knowledge of my former teachings back. As long as he would not reject my presence, he would be able to help others as much as we both would please. It had hurt him in the process, but I did what I must.

We had made a deal, after I found out that I could communicate with him while he was alone. I thought he was going to reject my help because of how furious he had looked... but seemed that he did not care about enduring the pain, as long as the people were safe. He seemed lost, so I accepted this offer. I would help him recover and relearn his past and knowledge, as long as he kept his promise of continuing to keep the people safe...

Years pass, however, and I notice that he'd been making meaningful friendships and they did not like O needlessly sacrificing himself into danger while they were right there to help. O looked so lost, so before he could answer, I took over for him, because things were alright, and these helpless people would be even more powerless against the raging haze... right?

Then, things started to get...odd. Much more out of my control. I had no more control over that haze that they had started to call the miasma I had left long ago in favor of co-habiting in O's mind... O had also been listening to his friends more, taking care of his body more, which was good, because I fear that the oncoming dangers I foresee we will getting our hands on shall be more and more perilous.

Every time we are to meet in mind's eye, he asks me if there are any more of those like him, then asks me if it would be better to find them but then... wouldn't that be going against that promise long ago..? I hesitate. I couldn't answer him, what would happen to him if I were to leave...? Wouldn't he be too weak? However, upon more observance, I see his body outside of the mind's eye after a long while, due to never really having to. It seems... he chose to look older, he has visible scars on his body, he has visible cracks on his core... I look away, to his surroundings... There are now papers on the walls with childish scribbles, stacks and stacks of notes

...I never leave his mindscape, but I do stay quiet, I hide... I cannot face him... But then, he starts to ask me to leave. Not directly, no no, because he is gentle, that is all he is, even back then as a child. Again, I am no longer visible to him, but I am sure he knows I am still here. I still lend him my powers, after all.

He tells me that he can live as he is, he tells me that the pain I apparently make him go through is no longer worth it. What he knows now with his own experience is more than enough, he can protect himself and others… but… no, that can’t be right… he's still too young to know anything...

I check in with his life after that, fully controlling his body and shutting his mind out, just this night, to observe the world. He needs to rest, anyway. It seemed that he'd been adopting and rescuing and generally taking care of those lost to this new miasma threat, as well as these plans to move to this isolated area at the top of the region... and... I couldn't bear to look anymore. O has a life to live again.

I must realize that he is no longer lost, and his eyes are once again filled with life and purpose of his own choosing, just as I had remembered... And yet, here I am, an obstruction, because I insist that we continue tirelessly moving forward to save the people... but is it really tireless? I feel rather immense guilt about this. I am in full belief that his life and his destiny was meant for him to control... I did not realize I was dragging him along for my old desire to protect... I must respect him, I tell myself, I must respect his wishes and find another for my goal...

But… I cannot be wrong here. O is powerful… I no longer have my own body. He is the perfect vessel. I am so sorry, O, but I think I cannot fully detach myself from you as a host. My awakening was not meant to be for this long, but we both want the people to be safe, yes? I promise I will protect them... you will not fight me, would you? We have no choice but to face these perils, for your children, your fellow villagers, they will be safe after this... just one more to fight, and you can rest. Let me take over, you look so tired…

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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memory-of-deross · 5 months

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He struts in with his notebook in hand, rewriting our histories with his pen!

dividers by @/cafekitsune.

General.

✦ This is an askblog focusing on musing the Novelist’s various costumes, often all taking place in their own separate verses, however certain ones may (heavily) reference my own AU found at @immortalpheus due to being connected to it. Canon (ToR and or AoM) is yet to be included in such cast at the moment, however it may be added as a portrayal later on. Because of this though, the blog will be heavily headcanon based and may not include aspects or change things around depending how I may want to write them.

✦ It will be more text reply oriented, though doodles may be added for fun here and there.

✦ Activity will very much be on and off due to the Mun’s life. (Sam/Victor, they/them pronouns)

✦ Characters (crossover, OC, etc) are free to interact! General questions will just be answered in the “main verse” unless specified otherwise.

✦ Sensitive topics or themes such as cults, death, murder, manipulation, sacrificing, suicide, and more may be present with certain portrayals or answers in the blog. Should these topic arise graphically, there will be a warning ahead of time. However, under no circumstances will sexual NSFW be present in the blog - flirting or suggestiveness (if not taken too far) is fine, but otherwise, ehh… this isn’t the place.

✦ Racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, etc is not welcome in this blog and especially its asks. Generally, while I will try to entertain asks the best I can, that will only be within reason and anything containing these or otherwise things that I just might not feel comfortable answering will be deleted and or ignored.

✦ Alice DeRoss will be portrayed as Orpheus’s sister in this blog as well as the Little Girl in most costumes as his daughter! Please refrain from sending any asks referring to any ships regarding these two.

✦ Muses that may require further context that doesn’t have any in-game or other information (such as fan-made costumes) will have their respective posts as basics.

Muses.

When sending an ask, please send their accompanying emoji or specify who is being referred to due to how many muses are present on the blog. Asks that remain untapped or unspecified will have a random Orpheus answer. Besides them on this list, their main tags can be found for ease.

❄️ Hollow. ~ ❄️ (borealis of eden. hollow)

♠️ Highroller. ~ ♠️ (the rigged cards of life. highroller)

♾️ The Immortal (may be referred to Immortalpheus or Immorphy; can be found at the corresponding blog as well). ~ ♾️ (venomous cycles of ouroboros. immortalpheus)

📽️ Screenwriter. ~ 📽️ (starlit script gleaming. screenwriter)

🔎 Scholastic. ~ 🔎 (tended pyres of knowledge. scholastic)

🗝️ Homesick. ~ 🗝️ (sea bound folds of the heart. homesick)

🎭 Orfeo (can be portrayed either during the events of Orfeo’s Game or the “aftermath”, in which he has woken up). ~ 🎭 (tragedys gaze. orfeo)

🪶 Omen (fan-made Season 17 Essence 3 / Man in Red based costume). ~ 🪶 (forewarned feathers and quill. omen)

🩸 Evil Thoughts. ~ 🩸 (blood of the naive. evil thoughts)

Tba — may be added in the future, currently unavailable.

🪽Prophet (Fantasy Series & Halloween lore based).

🧧Folk Writer.

🪞 Duke Raven.

🖋️ ToR/AoM or base Orpheus.

✦ Thank you for reading! Enjoy the lives that unfold, another chapter written!

#✦ (the pen lifts yet again. ask answered)#✦ (between the inked lines. headcanons)#✦ (the authors musings. ooc)#identity v askblog #idv askblog #identity v #idv #identity v novelist #idv novelist #identity v orpheus #idv orpheus

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thenewfuture · 7 months

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Family Reunion...

Hmm. This has been fun, taunting you around, Miss Branch Leader...

Buuuuuuut, I'm afraid there's not much use for you now that you've served your purpose. Now that I've shown you the despair of how stupid your teammates can be, I think I should wrap this up and just finish you off now.

Wait...wait, wait, wait! Monaca....you can't...!

Oh, I'm pretty sure I can~ I've done it lots already. And with your legs broken as is, you're juuuuust my height to take your neck and strangle the life out of you.

Wait, Monaca...! Please just a moment-

*Sigh!* Really... Adults are so feckless when it comes to the inevitable. Desperately fighting and trying to survive...I don't get it, it's all pointless and just looks sad.

But I guess I could hear your final words. What will you try to wrangle yourself out of this one-

I'M YOUR AUNT!

Huh?

I....I'm your aunt....

....................... *There's a long silence that befalls the two*

Huh..... Y'know, gonna be honest... That's....a new one.

Welp! Congrats! You're going to be memorialized into the Last Words Hall of Fame! Such an honor, yaaaaay!~

I'm serious...! I'm your aunt. You and me are family.

Okay, now it's just getting old. Monaca has no more family. Only her big brother, her stupid dead father, and her worthless, no-good mother that left us.

Yes. I know. Your mother is my sister, Ayla Gekkogahara. You were very young and probably wouldn't remember me, but I'm telling you the truth!

Prove it!

If you really know me from when I was a kid, I want you to prove it to Monaca. Lie to me, you'll be dead within seconds!

.......*inhale, exhale*.....

Silver light~

She turned her face up to the starlit sky~

And on this night began to wonder why~

She knew that soon the day would come...~

Ehehehehe! What is this? You're singing your last will in testament to Monaca? That's so....

Miaya: Born to be~ An heir of beauty and serenity~ Into this world she entered quietly~ To her surprise she was the one~

So....s-so......

! *All of sudden...Miaya's song takes her back...back to a time many years ago...*

---------------------------

*At another house, not in Towa City, the room is filled with a warm light, and a figure gently strokes Monaca's head as she continues to sing....*

Destiny was close behind her, phantom of borrowed life~

And the sea was a reminder, mirror of given light~

Then one day, the sign she'd waited for in skies of grey~

Traversed a winding road and came her way~

She found the love she hoped she would~

-------------------------------

But she knew~

That she had promises to stay true to~

The dormant daughter of the silver moon~

*Monaca takes a few steps back and stumbles* ........who....?

WHO ARE YOU?!

I told you, little Monaca. I'm your aunt, Miaya. It's been such a long time.... But...I'm finally glad to see you again.

#danganronpa #danganronpa 3 #danganronpa ultra despair girls #miaya gekkogahara #monaca towa #the new future #future foundation arc

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profanetools · 9 months

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my plans were roughly:

day 1: arcane (in the sense of unknown) - 12 year old apprentice wizard endrys demnevanni discovers he has a sister, raised by the dwemer

day 2: beloved - bthemetz reflects on her wife sending assassins after her. I may actually finish this who knows.

day 3: starlit - ancient giantess obsessed with constellations rescues annoying dwemer teen who she has issued several noise complaints too

day 4: mortal / sanctuary - kagrenac is found alive, washed up on the sea, by an orc island fishing village in the 6th era or something

day 5: forgotten / devotion - I actually had a piece for this that I am now posting for free <3

day 6: in bloom / blood - vyra gets into her first fight where she nearly dies. realises some things

day 7: profane - MANY MANY things, but my favourite most outlandish was the twine game where bthemetz goes back in time to try and reason with kagrenac, failing every time

day 8: free - will publish something for this

shoutout also to the part of me that wanted to do 1st person dwemer perspectives of the disappearance for EACH PROMPT. You don't lack for ambition huh.

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imaginativemind29new · 10 months

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Word Find Tag

Thanks @starlit-hopes-and-dreams for tagging me and for the patience because it took me a while to remember you tagged me lol

So my words were never, murmur, life, change, mistake and I took them all from my main WIP The Heir's Curse, but that's no surprise really lol

Your words: fire, light, book and chance

Tagging without any pressure at all: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams (I am tagging you back :D) @i-can-even-burn-salad @the-broken-pen@jay-avian

Let's bring it on :D

Never (Robyn POV)

Milah, like all other novices, was the daughter of an ordained priestess, conceived during the Rite and with the blessings of our Great Mother. As a true daughter of Celnaer, her destiny was already predetermined. That was not the case for me. I was no born priestess and not a day went by without me being reminded of it. My sisters made sure of it. Fraud. Wannabe shadow witch. Imposter. Their words were still ringing in my ears and my nails dug into my palms. As if it was my fault in the first place. I didn't choose boarding a ship bound to Wraesian with my parents. I didn't summon the storm that broke the vessel to pieces as if it was merely a toy and took away my parents. I didn't ask the sea to pull me under and drown me, nor did I ask for the strong arms that grabbed my body and saved me. It wasn't my choice, but the grace of the Great Mother that saved me that day. It was her grace that led the few survivors to the safe haven that was Celnaer where the High Priestess Eirene found me and accepted me into her temple. I was only five years old and she's treated me like I was her own blood ever since. Very much to the disdain of some of the elder priestesses. But not Milah, never Milah. Whenever the shadows seemed to take over my mind, she was the sun that chased them away.

Murmur (Baz POV)

"Careful," Faolán hissed and pulled a pocket mirror from his pocket. He adjusted the sides made of moon glass so that the incoming moonlight was reflected on the floor and revealed what lay between us and the treasure. I exhaled sharply as my gaze fell on what seemed to be random symbols drawn onto the stone floor. Defence spells. I should have known. Even an arrogant bastard like Drogan wasn't so simple-minded as to leave his trinkets without extra protection. Even if it meant breaking the law.

"I guess good ol' Drogan doesn't think much of rules," I murmured. Faolán gave a snort of laughter.

"Since when do the rich give a damn about the law?"

"True," I replied with a grin as I carefully stepped around the runes. "Then again, neither do we."

Life (Baz POV)

I couldn't deny that I was tempted by the idea. In Anoven my crew would be safe, and so would I. But was I ready to give up the pirate life for good? Of course there had been days when I thought about it, scarce moments where I allowed my mind to wander to the shards of a little boy's dream. To a small house built in the middle of fields. A small garden overgrown with a wild selection of fruit and vegetables and fresh water drawn from my very own well. A place where sea-dried, bloody skin and weeks of meagre bread and pale water would once and for all be a thing of the past. A life of peace.

Change (Robyn POV)

"So you're the first mate," I said to break the awkward silence between Faolán and me. After all, I would be spending four days on this ship, so it seemed only appropriate to get to know parts of the crew a little.

"Your perceptiveness is truly remarkable," Faolán replied without giving me a glance. But I decided not to be intimidated by his taunting comment. He didn't trust me, that much was clear, and frankly I couldn't blame him. If I were part of this crew, I wouldn't trust me either. And I suspected he wouldn't change his mind about me so quickly, no matter how hard I tried to fit in.

Mistake (Robyn POV)

"Come on Naera, you're a girl, she's a girl." Faolán pointed between the two of us. "Who better than you to share the hammock with her?"

If looks could kill, I was pretty sure Faolán should be dead on the floor at that moment. The first mate seemed to notice his fatal mistake as well, because the next moment he raised his hands in a pacifying manner. "Not my order, it comes from the captain."

I frowned. That wasn't entirely true, but I knew better than to contradict Faolán in Naera's presence.

#word find tag #tag game #writing tag game #the heir‘s curse #starlit hopes and dreams

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the-empress-7 · 2 years

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I wear the Orange Blossom and love it, but I prefer Starlit Mandarin and Honey. For Christmas, I gave my sisters, daughter and daughter-in-law sampler sets, and everyone loved the Sage and Sea Salt.

Thanks anon! Also sampler sets are a great gift idea.

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mysunfreckle · 2 years

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A Legend From the Seafoam Court

Folktales are my whole jam and I couldn’t let Aabria’s paraphrased Each Uisge legend in episode 6 of ACoFaF pass me by~

Cw: folklore-typical violence, drowning

“For it will be a dark night, but a clear one,” she warned. “And you will surely end up elf-shot or pixie-led if you go out in the gloaming.”

All three of them promised faithfully not to set a foot out of doors and their mother quickly set off to be of help to her neighbour.

For a while the three children were content within, but the further the sun sank below the horizon, the more restless they became. At last the eldest could take it no longer.

“I shall only draw back one of the curtains,” he said, and all three of them crowded around the window to look.

Outside the sky had slowly turned to dark velvet and since no moon rose to light it, far before true darkness had come the shimmering pinpricks of stars appeared. The whole world seemed to to glisten in soft grey and it was not long before the second of them grew twice as restless as before.

“I will only open the window,” they said, and all three of them leaning against the windowsill to breathe in the night air.

But never had the gentle wind smelled so sweet and it was not long before the youngest could no longer contain herself.

“I will only go and sit on the windowsill,” she said, but she no sooner had she let her legs dangle over the side or her siblings came to join her. And once they were all there staring up at the sky with the wind in their hair and the distant rush of the sea in their ears it did not take long until they slid off the windowsill and jumped to the ground.

“We shall not go up to the cliffs,” they told each other. “Nor inland towards the moors. We shall only go to see the sea and then straight back again.”

After all, they would be back before their mother ever knew they were gone, and they would have done so without ever setting a foot out the door.

Gaily they ran down to the shore, where the stars hung lower above the waves than they had ever seen. White mist danced above the water, and the sea foam danced as if rising to meet it.

Amidst all this splendour, they suddenly heard the soft sound of hooves and from across the starlit beach, a beautiful pony pranced towards them.

“I want to ride it!” the middle child exclaimed in raptures and they eagerly rushed forward.

“No, I get to ride it!” the eldest insisted.

“No I want to!” the youngest cried.

“Then you ride behind me,” the middle one said boldly and they caught the pony, as gentle and willing as a steed could possibly be, by it’s long black manes.

“There will not be room for all of us on its back!” the eldest protested.

So laughing and hooting they all climbed onto the pony’s back. “Giddy-up! Giddy-up!” they cried. “Ride on!”

But the pony did not trot down the beach from whence it came. It turned and tossed its manes and galloped straight for the sea.

The children screamed, but they were suddenly unable to pull their hands from its back. It’s slick coat suddenly stuck like tar and the louder they screamed, the faster it ran.

There was no glee in the children now, but all the more in the creature. Neighing and whinnying it plunged into the waves with its prey still fast upon its back, and promptly dove beneath the foaming surface. The mist whirled and the sea broiled and then there was nothing left to be seen.

Not one of the three children was ever seen again, and no trace of either them or the pony was ever found. Not a hoof print in the sand, not a strand of chestnut, mahogany or ebony hair, not even a whisper on the cold sea breeze.

#acofaf #acofaf fanfic #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #acofaf spoilers #seafoam court #sunfreckle's stories #this will go in my epistolary fanfic eventually but I haven't arrived at that point yet #and I'm too excited not to post it #cw death #cw drowning #thanks for the vibe read starkey <3

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vcenvs3000w24 · 3 months

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My Evolving Relationship With Nature.

Greetings, fellow nature lovers! Hello and thank you for visiting my Nature Interpretation Blog! As a committed student enrolled in ENVS3000, an intriguing environmental interpretation course, I am excited to share the enthralling journey of my evolving relationship with nature. Join me as I traverse the complexities of interpretation, develop my relationship with nature, and cultivate a deeper sense of location (Beck, Cable, & Knudson, 2018).

The Almafi Coast, a scenic section of the Tyrrhenian Sea, served as a blank canvas for my research of environmental interpretation. The craggy cliffs, blue lakes, and beautiful villages were more than just picturesque settings; they were gateways to comprehending the complex interaction between culture and nature. The aroma of lemon groves, the sound of waves smashing against the cliffs, each memory engraved into my mind strengthened my connection to this seaside paradise.

I found myself steeped in local stories, from the historical significance of the villages to the people' adoption of ecological methods. It wasn't just about observing; it was about sensing Almafi's pulse, comprehending its essence, and knowing my place within its vast tapestry.

These next two photos are from my cottage which is up north near Haliburton Area on a small lake. The first photo was taken in the summer, and the second one was taken just this weekend with my dog Ozzy! I have such a strong connection with my cottage and the nature that surrounds it. My dad and grandpa build our cottage in 2002 so it was one of our homes away from home. In the summer time I am either fishing with my grandpa since there is a hefty bass population in the lake, or swimming with my sister. There are also amazing trails as my cottage basically is in the middle of the forrest.

The tie I have with this natural retreat extends beyond the stunning sights; it is established by the changing seasons, wildlife interactions, and quiet periods of introspection by the lake.

This tiny getaway serves as a daily reminder of humanity's complex dance with the natural world. Every aspect, whether it's the rustling leaves, the loon sounds, or the starlit nights, contributes to a story of intimate connection.

The next two photos are taken in Romania, nestled along the Black Sea is my families hometown of Constansa. The rough majesty of the Carpathian Mountains spoke of resilience, while the calm shores of the Black Sea afforded periods of serene introspection.

I found myself engrossed in the rich stories that the land had to give as I went through the rugged terrains of Brasov and welcomed the coastal town by the Black Sea. It wasn't just about seeing nature; it was about experiencing its heartbeat, comprehending its rhythm, and understanding my place within its vast embrace.

The Tranquil Symphony of the Black Sea:

I felt a tremendous sense of calm while strolling along the Black Sea shoreline. The repetitive waves, salty breeze, and immense expanse of the sea were transformed into a beautiful symphony, resonating with the essence of environmental interpretation. It wasn't only about admiring the scenery; it was also about becoming a part of the story, a participant in the ongoing conversation between land and sea.

Creating Meaningful Moments:

My goal with Nature is to communicate not just the pictures but also the emotional depth of these experiences. Almafi Coast, Romania, and my cottage retreat near Haliburton have been more than just stops on my journey of self-discovery and environmental awareness. Each location has left its own impression on my ongoing relationship with nature, and it is this personal connection that I hope to portray through my interpretive travels.

References:

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage for a Better World (1st ed.). Sagamore Publishing. https://www.sagamorepub.com/products/interpreting-cultural-and-natural-heritage-better-world

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jolieeason · 5 months

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Sister of Starlit Seas (Virdian Deep: Book 3) by Terry Brooks

Publisher: Random House Publishing Group – Ballantine, Del Rey Date of publication: November 14th, 2023 Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult Series: Viridian Deep Child of Light—Book 1 Daughter of Darkness—Book 2 Sister of Starlit Seas—Book 3 Purchase Links: Kindle | Audible | B&N | Kobo | WorldCat Goodreads Synopsis: A rebellious young heroine begins a voyage of self-discovery in the third novel…

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#book 3 #fantasy #Sister of Starlit Seas #Terry Brooks #Virdian Deep #young adult

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swordduels · 5 months

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The path of a maiden

Once upon a time there was a boy that everyone thought was a girl… Sigfrid was the oldest sibling with two brothers and a sister. He took his name from a pirate who long ago had his stories written down. As the oldest he wanted to save maidens while exploring the world. Thus he prepared himself by learning the way of the sword. His mother had cold sunken eyes and claimed there was another path chosen for him. The path of a maiden. Once every year a hag would arrive to give three challenges to those who had yet to marry. If a maiden was to fail she would meet a terrible end and her story could never be written down. If a maiden was to finish her quest she would fall into a maiden’s sleep and wait for someone to break the spell with a kiss. Thus her story would be written down side by side to the one who had broken the spell. So it was said that a maiden and a hero were destined to each other. Sigfrid felt horror in his heart. “Is there no way for maidens to escape such a fate?” He exclaimed with a quivering voice. “No such thing exists that can stop the path of a maiden. The hag will find you wherever you go. She can hear a maiden’s beating heart underground and beyond the sea. She can fly through the air and travel by thunder. Refusing a challenge will end in disaster.” His mother gave him a letter red as scarlet sealed with white wax. In black ink was the name Sigfrid had been born with. This was a calling that would reveal time and place as the challenges would be chosen. Only a maiden could take part in what was said or have the envelope open. Thus his mother had no way to take action. Sigfrid refused to have it open and tossed it into the fire. Black smoke rose while a terrible hissing was heard. Next thing he knew the letter flew out of the flames. Neither wax or paper was touched by marks. His mother then laughed with glee. How foolish she thought it was. Neither fire or water could do harm to a hag’s calling. Giving the letter away or having it hidden would not do either. When a letter was sent from her it would return until the ritual was done. Sigfrid was heated by anger as he lifted his sword and swore to never open the letter or follow a maiden’s path. Dressed in trousers, boots and coat he took a bag with his belongings. Through the window he walked as his mother shrieked hateful curses at the starlit night sky. The boy who everyone thought was a girl found his way down. Determined to never return or take a maiden’s path.

#story #inspired by old fairytales

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theresabookreviews · 8 months

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#Terry brooks

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moldymonstercans · 1 year

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a brilliant gem and crescent hang in aether cold

the only lights in a sea of sapphire and burnished gold

viewed from an empty lake of false obsidian

that endless treasured heaven built meridian

in dying sun the the skys sister heralds thee

the treasure darkens to grace the starlit infinity

#trying some shitty prose #first attempt is about staring at the moon a star as the sun sets

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arofili · 2 years

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elves of arda ֎ vanyar ֎ headcanon disclaimer

Elenwë was an elf of the Minyar who woke upon the shores of Cuiviénen. Upon first seeing her soul-sibling, Elenwë’s sister Calima perceived him as a nér, and for many cycles of the stars Elenwë let this aspect of his fëa lie unexamined. Thus it was that he acted as Calima’s brother throughout the Great Journey to Aman, always at a slight remove from himself, unknowing what it was that left his spirit unquiet. While the Quendi yet dwelt upon the starlit shores, Calima fell in love with the Nelyarin elf Terenwë. He was a wandering soul from the moment of his Awakening, preferring his own company and that of the forest to those of his fellow elves. But Calima was kind and good and fair, and Terenwë was moved by her love to wed her. Yet Terenwë and Elenwë disliked one another, competing for Calima’s affection and attention, and thus even in the earliest days of her marriage Calima was unhappy. They quarreled over the most trivial things, including the similarity of their names, and to appease them both Calima renamed her brother Elemmírë and her husband Terenlaimo, the star-jewel and the slender shadow. Then came the Great Hunter Arômêz, and while all the Minyar loved him, Terenlaimo distrusted him. When it came time for Elemmírë and Calima to embark upon the Great Journey to Aman, Terenlaimo refused to accompany his wife, and in great sorrow Calima chose to follow the her kindred rather than her beloved. But before long Terenlaimo repented of his pride and hurried after his wife, reuniting with her just before the Minyar were to cross the Sundering Sea. Calima was overjoyed to see her husband once more, and in their passion and gladness they conceived a child, though the little spark of fëa within her was not yet bright enough to detect when on the morrow Calima purposed to join the rest of the Minyar upon Tol Eressëa and embark upon the final voyage to Aman. At the prospect of leaving the starlit lands he loved forever, Terenlaimo balked once more, for in his heart he had proudly taken the moniker of the Avari, and had hoped his reappearance would sway Calima to remain with him: but alas, her mind was set, and the couple parted once more in great bitterness and sorrow. It was not until the Isle had begun its slow movement across the Sea that Calima realized she was with child, and her grief at her separation from her husband and her babe’s father grew only deeper. Soon whispers began to spread of Calima’s misfortune, and she earned the epessë Hóndil, shadow-lover, for the faithless husband she left behind. Elemmírë was determined not to let his sister sink into her despair, and vowed to support Calima through every trial. In gratitude, Calima promised to name her child after her brother: and so it was that first of all the Eldar in Aman, Calima brought forth new life into Valinórë, and named her daughter Elenwë after Elemmírë’s first essë at Cuiviénen. Calima, Elemmírë, and little Elenwë accompanied Alcariniel to the holy city of Valmar, settling into their new home as an unconventional family. Elemmírë entered the service of Varda Elentári, singing praises to the Queen of the Valar and becoming the greatest minstrel among the Vanyar. Calima raised Elenwë to be kind and wise, and though she never knew her father and had no ataressë, Elenwë was a joyful child and grew into a contented adult. As the Eldar of Aman grew in number and in skill, Elemmírë won great renown for his musical talent, attracting even the attention of the Noldor. Findis, daughter of King Finwë and his Vanyarin bride Indis Vanima, befriended Elemmírë while visiting her grandmother Alcariniel upon Taniquetil, and when her nephew Makalaurë showed great musical talent in his youth she introduced him to Elemmírë in hopes of finding him a good tutor. Though Makalaurë’s father Fëanáro was at first reluctant to allow a Vanya teach his son, Makalaurë’s enthusiasm won him over, and he agreed upon the condition that Elemmírë move to Tirion to teach him. Elemmírë nearly refused, unwilling to abandon Calima, but centuries had passed since Elenwë’s birth and Calima encouraged her brother to find his own life. Findis, who had been living among her mother’s people, offered to move back to the city of her birth so Elemmírë might have a companion, and in the end an arrangement was reached that suited everyone. Findis and Elemmírë removed to Tirion together, though they visited Valmar frequently and often took Makalaurë with them, where he met and was briefly infatuated with Elenwë. As Elemmírë tutored young Makalaurë and became better acquainted with the House of Finwë, he began to realize there was a discordant chord within the Song of his fëa. At long last Elemmírë discovered that they were, in fact, a nís who had awoken in a hröa that Ilúvatar most commonly granted to néri, and she hesitantly shared this revelation with Findis her friend. Findis supported her wholeheartedly and urged her to seek the counsel of Varda to guide her next steps, and though the Queen of Stars did not fully understand the change in her servant’s heart, she accepted her nonetheless and allowed Elemmírë to transition from nér to nís. Calima was glad to at last know her sister for who she truly was, and remarked that she had chosen wisely in naming her daughter after Elemmírë, for “Elenwë” had always been the name of a nís, even when it had not been obvious. Soon Elemmírë realized something else profound about her fëa: she was in love with her dearest friend. Though two níssi were not permitted by the laws of the Valar nor the customs of the Eldar to wed, the confusion around Elemmírë’s true identity allowed for a loophole wide enough for Findis and Elemmírë to join in marriage with the blessing of Manwë and Varda, and none spoke against their love. Within only a matter of years, Elemmírë and Findis were blessed with a child: Laurefindil Alcarinquë, named like his mother for a shining star. Elenwë doted on her younger cousin, and through him grew close to the House of Finwë, where she met Turukáno Ñolofinwion, a princely young nér who in time would become her husband and Laurefindil’s liege. When the Two Trees were killed and Valinórë fell into Darkness, Findis and Elemmírë clung to one another in their grief. To their great sorrow, Laurefindil and Elenwë both chose to depart with the Noldor into exile, but Findis remained in Aman with her mother and their Vanyarin kin. Elemmírë was especially distraught by the loss of the Trees, and wrote a haunting lament in their honor: the Aldudénië, most famous of all her songs.

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