#The Rape of the Lock and Other Poems | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aftgficrec · 6 months

Note

ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘The Sphynx and the Hare’ here (completed)

‘corvus, vulpes, lupus’ here

‘never fallen (from quite this high)’ here

‘Not a Pipe Dream’ here

‘everything and nothing begins with you’ here

Andrew gets sober, Neil stays at Evermore

‘Oh Raven,’ ‘Jailbird,’ and ‘Take to the Wing’ here

‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here

‘Comeback’ here

you may also like

in the dream I don't tell anyone (you put your head in my lap) by Fortheloveofexy [Rated T, 1850 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

The real Neil would never allow this, would not let himself be this vulnerable. The real Neil can barely stand to be around him. Andrew knows this. But Dream Neil? Dream Neil is a different story.

Will you be there when I come back? by Shamman [Not Rated, 299 Words, Complete, 2017]

Andrew is trapped in Easthaven with an eidetic memory and tries to focus his thoughts on the confusing image of Neil Josten's face. -Because however terrible it may look, Andrew's current circumstances are much less pleasant. Furthermore Bee has been making him sing and play the guitar in a very therapeutic attempt to make him express some sort of actual emotion over the past year.

tw: violent imagery

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by glintchi [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 19: Yes, I Admit It, You Were Right [460 Words] Renee was waiting for him in the basement, fingers already taped, hair pulled back into a tuft of a rainbow ponytail.

Foxhole Tidbits by SpangleBangle [Collection Rated T/M, Updated 2018]

Chapter 14: My Friend, O My Friend [M, 953 Words] Prompt for Renee's reaction after Drake/Easthaven and Andrew's return.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: canonical character death

Did You Miss Me? by Deathandcommas [Rated G, 555 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Aaron and Andrew have a late night chat after Andrew gets back from Easthaven.

tfw spoons by StrawBerryRains [Rated G, 216 Words, Complete, 2021]

Nicky offers Andrew ice cream when they arrive home from Easthaven.

A Taste of Your Own Medicine by caffeine_withdrawl [Rated M, 66454 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2023]

Set after the infamous Thanksgiving, but then diverges from canon. Andrew and Bee decide it’s time for Andrew to come off the drugs, but works some magic so that he is allowed to do it in Columbia. Neil is tasked with helping him through it. They decide to do it the same way Andrew helped Aaron sober up, by locking him in a bathroom. Andrew doesn't react well, and switches between rage and panic. Andrew wonders if Neil is real or if he made him up because of the drugs.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: body horror, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: emotional abuse, tw: hallucinations

making it harder to breathe by Azure_Allumiia [Rated T, 1643 Words, Complete, 2021]

Christmas Break with the Foxes, featuring Andrew at Easthaven and Neil in Evermore. Foxes celebrate New Years in NYC with the ball drop.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: medical abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood

Dead Birds by Noah98 [Rated G, 1601 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Neil just got back from Evermore and Andrew has returned from Easthaven. Riko calls. He wants a rematch and oh boy does he get it.

tw: violence, tw: blood/gore

Art

NB: just a sampling of art for this scene

“Feel Again” original song by @whatbutandreil [Tumblr, 2020]

Picking up Andrew from Easthaven part 1, part 2 comic by @coldcigarettes

andreil keys off the roof scene: animation by @hahanken | comic by @rainbowd00dles | comic by @lunapiq | art by @esklinray

I hate you comic by @thematicallycoherent

I’m not a hallucination art by @clumsyartish

Stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself. edit by @m1nyards

You are a pipe dream art by @viennemort

“you spend all this time watching our backs” edit by @matthcwboyd

not a hallucination a pipe dream art by @kryptidfox

“you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” art by @planetmontressor

"Go inside and leave me alone." art by @dimsunstuff

“No, you’re a pipe dream.” art by @starkingdraws

113 notes · View notes

ryuichirou · 9 months

Note

Rook is definitely a creep but that is what we like about him. I wonder if you have any yandere hcs of Rook?

Rook is a creep alright, which is why it’s so funny to talk about him being a yandere: a lot of things a yandere does are just regular Rook things. He stalks, he monitors everyone’s height, weight and diet, he takes pictures, recognizes everyone’s smell, all this stuff. I still think about that line about him being the only person in the school other than Vil himself and the guy from the costume department that knows Vil’s measurements perfectly… so romantic.

So a lot of things I might say here are just canon lol, but since we’re talking about him being yandere (i.e. being driven by romantic infatuation and not just him being a horny hunter), here are some thoughts.

Oh, and I had to make it a jealousy scenario, because otherwise it really is just a regular Rook day. A now it’s a regular Rook day, but with his beloved one (i.e. a target of his unhealthy obsession, i.e. most likely Vil) being together with someone else!

These are the first things that come to mind. Like you said, this is what we love about Rook – he is scary and he is scarily capable of doing a lot of dangerous stuff.

Actually? He seems pretty okay at first. He’ll talk about how he doesn’t mind his beloved choosing someone else and that love is as beautiful as a rejection, and that he wishes the couple nothing but happiness. And he does mean it, but he also thinks that his beloved being in agony is also beautiful, so….

The fact that he is okay with being rejected doesn’t mean that he’ll stop his advances, mind you. He’ll still stalk his beloved, take pictures, write poems, do all that. And if he were to tell Rook that he wants him to stop, Rook would just say that he can’t really help himself.

Overtime, his advances and his behavior would become even creepier. His poems would become more cryptic and genuinely scary, his little gifts and presents too. And the way he acts around his beloved and his lover would feel uncanny, as if he’s about to do something drastic and dangerous. The feeing lingers, but Rook never does anything, just smiles creepily.

That doesn’t mean that he won’t dispose of his competitor if he feels that this would lead to the best consequences for himself. The scary thing about Rook is that he is very calculating and smart, so you never know which scenario would be preferable for him. If he feels like he wants to see his beloved absolutely broken and devastated because of the loss of his lover, he’ll kill him without any doubts.

Another example of that is the fact that Rook could easily kidnap the target of his obsession and leave him locked in some basement in a forest, visiting him like once a day, raping him, slowly breaking him into being obedient. But he could also let him live his life, believing in the illusion that he is free, while also having Rook watch over his every step for the rest of his life. Rook would stalk him and manipulate events and people in his life from the shadows, because his lover’s life is a wonderful play that is being performed for Rook and Rook only.

#replies #headcanons #rook hunt

58 notes · View notes

redahlia-writes · 1 year

Text

dark sonnet. (part two) | aemond targaryen

part 1

Abstract: During his studies, Aemond had come across countless stories of love and passion, both salvation and ruin of men and women and empires as well. He’d never paid it too much mind, never really cared because he’d never known what it meant. And then he’d realised - it meant don’t leave me alone.

Words: 9.5K

Content: f!reader (can be read as oc, no use of y/n / her hair is dyed red, no mentions of natural hair colour); canon typical everything - allusions to rape and an abusive family, hands, a lot of imagery and flowery language, scars, characters are aged up, smut, canon? we don’t know her, blood ritual, some odd family dynamics but it’s hotd so what can you do

A/N: i will admit i feel like there’s a lot more i could write about these two, some situations left unanswered and incomplete that just won’t fit in the narrative - i doubt i’ll turn this into a series (life is a bitch and i have so little time) but i am always willing to talk about my darlings. loosely based on neil gaiman’s poem dark sonnet. translation for high valyrian will be at the end

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

He began dreaming of roses.

When she was in his bed - trapped by his arms, no matter her weak protests and reprimands - he buried his nose in her hair, or the crook of her neck; when she managed to escape him, or convinced him Helaena would call - she always did, he wasn’t sure how she knew with absolute certainty - her scent lingered on his covers. His beautiful rose, he said - ñuha gevie rēko, whispered on her skin, murmured between her thighs.

So he began dreaming of roses, and seek her out in his sleep, too, because in those moments she was his and his only, and she wouldn’t worry as much if it was just the two of them in his room. Outside those walls, she was Helaena’s - outside, they lived of stolen moments, nights tucked away.

“Do you believe Helaena would not understand?” the Weirwood tree was their only shelter when the sun was still out, sitting side by side with the Gods watching their backs. She was always more guarded than him, more careful and aware of their surroundings, and though their hands would touch at times - a brush, a stroke, locking fingers before parting again - she mostly kept hers into her lap. He watched her pick at her fingers nervously whenever someone walked by, even though they were hidden enough, and he was never able to stop himself from reaching over, taking her hand in his. “That she would not like this?”

“This?” she smiled almost slyly, though her eyes darted past his shoulder, past her shoulder. “Do not tease,” he warned quietly, bringing her hand up to his mouth - that was when her gaze lingered, enraptured by the movement, the softness of it.

“I was led to believe you liked when I teased, my prince,” always my prince when out of the shelter of his room - never his name. He longed to hear it all day long, waited for the safety of the night to draw it out of her, over and over and over.

“Not when I cannot have you, no,” he hummed, turning her arm to kiss her wrist, right underneath where her sleeve ended. She sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the warmth of his lips. “Do you truly wish to hear me say it?” he shifted closer, trailing kisses up her arm from above her dress. He did not wait for an answer, reaching up her shoulder to whisper close to her ear, “Would my sister not like knowing I desire no other person but you?”

“My prince,” she warned, her voice a little breathy, struggling to open her eyes again. “We’re outside - anyone could walk by.” “Let them,” he shrugged, and before she could protest again he’d kissed her.

Her body betrayed her, softening beneath his touch, mellowing at his kiss - she sighed against his lips, the hand she’d been keeping in her lap moving up towards his face. She cupped his cheek, a gentle caress across his jaw as he pushed himself closer, so close their thighs were pressed together, his torso twisted to an almost uncomfortable degree.

Uncaring, he prodded her mouth with the tip of his tongue, tasting sugar on her lips - from the cakes Helaena had shared with her, he knew - before she parted them, relenting. As he deepened the kiss, he let his hand fall to her leg, kneading the flesh of her thigh when she locked her knees together.

“Don’t,” she murmured against his mouth, hand on his shoulder as if to push him back but not quite. With a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, he slid his fingers between her legs, the skirt of her dress wrinkling under his touch. “Not here.”

“Why not?” he pulled away from the kiss fully, glanced down at her reddened lips. He remained close enough the tip of her nose brushed his, still letting his hand travel up to her core, even through her layers of clothing. “I could take you in front of the entire court,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Claim you as my own - let every person know who you belong to.”

“Claim me?” she scoffed, though it came out a little breathless, shifting beneath his touch as her cheeks grew bright with colour. “Have you mistaken me for one of your dragons, my prince?” she sighed when he curled his fingers into the folds of her skirt, applying pressure to her centre, tipping her head back as her eyes fluttered shut.

“My jorrāeliarza,” he uttered the words, lips finding home on her neck, over the sweet spot that made her heart race.”My beloved, for all to witness, to know.”

She guarded his name like a secret, had never dared saying it out loud around others ever since their first night together - it carried too much, tasted too sweet on the tip of her tongue. So she kept it tucked away, a pocket of her heart only he could reach for, every night, drawing it out of her like a God with his prayers.

“Aemond,” no one had ever said his name so softly, never had it carried such tenderness.

It was not his voice that responded, calling out for her from the other side of the tree, but Helaena’s. She gasped, the spell broken, eyes widening as the prince reluctantly pulled back, quick to get on his feet and put some distance between the two of them - if he remained too close, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to not reach for her again. Just as she smoothed her skirt down, the princess came up from behind the tree, and took in her brother with a surprised look in her eyes.

“There you are, sister,” he forced himself to not look down towards her, focusing only on Helaena. “I was wondering where you’d gone, leaving your companion behind on such a lovely day.”

“I was with mother,” he knew, had watched her walk into the queen’s room and reached the gardens immediately, knowing he’d find the other woman there. “And she is not a pet, I am not leaving her,” those were the few times the princess would get defensive - he had seen her silence lords, ladies, Aegon himself, just for an unfavourable word said against her friend.

“Princess, it’s all right,” she said, her voice still a little breathy. Helaena turned her gaze to her and frowned slightly, getting closer and crouching down.

“Your face is burning,” she commented quietly, reaching for her cheek with the back of her hand. “Have you stayed in the sun for too long?” Aemond was quick to mask his snort with a cough, clearing his throat right after. “I must have, surely,” she shook her head lightly, then smiled up at her. “I’m fine, Helaena, just a little flushed.”

“Hm,” she said, a proper imitation of her brother - her brother, still standing a few steps behind. He understood why she was so worried of Helaena finding them out - why she would sacrifice them if it meant not losing the princess, and he couldn’t fault her for it. “Let’s get you inside then, it is too warm for me in any case.”

He watched her get up, brushing her skirt with one hand while with the other she helped Helaena - never touching her first, always waiting for the princess to do it on her own accord, to initiate it. She was so preoccupied with her, she did not even notice the spider crawling up her side, onto her hand and arm.

“You have a -” he took a step in her direction, then thought better of it, and when she turned her head to look at him, a perplexed look in her eyes, he gestured to her arm, the animal still making its way across her dress.

“Oh,” she disentangled herself from Helaena, moving her hand in front of the creature - it crawled on her hand, back to palm and back again, past her fingertips and down again before she moved it in the princess’ direction, unfazed as it crawled onto the other’s awaiting palm. “Shall we?” enthralled by the spider, Helaena only nodded, turning in Aemond’s direction.

“Mind the fall with her,” she said, to no one in particular, and then began walking in the direction she’d come from, back towards the entrance. Aemond’s mouth parted to say goodbye, but cut himself off when she met his gaze one last time, already walking away as well.

A look - it was all they needed, all they’d learned to need. A glance, eyes meeting across a room for the briefest of moments to convey a message of a thousand words. The hint of a smile, perhaps, never too much, never too obvious, always easy to mask. One look to say it all, one look to say things they would never be able to express out loud. They didn’t need to.

During his studies, Aemond had come across countless stories of love and passion, both salvation and ruin of men and women and empires as well. He’d never paid it too much mind, never really cared because he’d never known what it meant. And then he’d realised - it meant don’t leave me alone.

Worse than the nights he had to spend alone were the days with her just out of reach - always there, always so close but never enough. He would try to make the most of the nights they did spend together, holding her always a little tighter, but it never felt enough. Not when she bowed her head each time he walked by and everybody else was around. Not when he noticed Aegon’s gaze wandering - a remark when it was just the four of them, rage flickering in her eyes even though she did not reply. He wished to be the one comforting her, not see Helaena be the one.

At night he would try to soothe the anger still coursing through her veins - she always kissed him back with a little more intensity on those nights, tried to burn the feeling away, tried to lose herself in him instead. He could only love her a little harder then, hold her a little tighter. She would not let him pity her, had made that abundantly clear. She would not let his brother come between them, nor ruin the perfect moments they cut out for themselves.

Aemond couldn’t bear it - that feeling of helplessness whenever her jaw locked, her gaze lowered. He wanted to walk around court and see her keep her head up, that defiant look in her eyes he’d been met with over and over, the same look he’d fallen for.

Fallen for her, his fearless goddess with flaming hair.

“Marry me,” he whispered into the crook of her neck as he held her close, arms caging her frame on top of him. She stilled with a gasp, fingers digging a little harder in his shoulders as she steadied herself after stopping the rocking of her hips.

“What?” she was panting a little, pulling her head back to look down at him. Her walls fluttered around his length when he shifted a little, a throaty sound stuck in her chest.

“Marry me,” he repeated, bringing one hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear - a gentle touch only she had known. A touch he wished for no one else to know. “Be my lady wife - aren’t you tired of sneaking around?”

“I am,” she seemed surprised by her own answer, and her gaze flickered away from him. Any other time it would’ve felt ironic - him, buried deep inside her and her not being able to hold his gaze. This time, however, Aemond’s heart stuttered. “But I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Why not?” can’t he thought, not don’t want to - could he cling to hope, he wondered? Could he be a fool for a while longer?

“I have no name, Aemond,” she said his name with tenderness, one hand moving to the back of his head, a soothing, gentle touch. “It is one thing for me to be Helaena’s companion, another to spend the nights with you - she chose me, and -”

She was cut off by his arms locking around her again, flipping them over - the motion made her eyes flutter shut as a heavy sigh fell from her lips. He pushed her with her back fully against the bed, canting his hips into hers.

“I choose you,” he retorted, one arm at the side of her head to hold himself slightly lifted. “I don’t want just nights with you - and I don’t care about your name, or titles, ot whatever the fuck people might think or say.” “I know you don’t,” she brushed her hand through his unbound hair, slow and gentle and still soothing. “But you’re still a prince - you can’t marry someone like me.”

“You’re right, I am a prince,” he bowed his head to kiss her jaw, shifting his hips again flush against hers - she held back a cry, head tipped back. “Which means I can do what I want,” another thrust, another kiss to her throat. “Marry whomever I wish to marry.”

“Aemond,” she heaved, nails scratching his scalp, lingering on the strap of his eyepatch. They’d fallen into each other so quickly that night he hadn’t even stopped to take it off as he’d grown used to when in her presence.

“Say you don’t want to marry me, and I’ll understand,” he let his hand move down her side, a butterfly touch that almost tickled her, down to her thigh, hitching her leg against his side. With the motion, he pushed himself deeper, and she stuttered a moan - the beginning of his name as he rocked into her, slow and deep. “I’ll keep you like this, or let you go completely, whatever it is you desire,” she arched up to meet him. “Just say the word.”

“I can’t,” her breath caught as he snapped his hips back into hers. “I can’t say that. I can’t say I don’t want to,” it felt easier to admit her desires with her eyes closed, arm locking behind his shoulders as his head fell back to the crook of her neck, lips brushing her pulse. “But it’s a fantasy, my love.”

Had she ever said it before? My love. Had she ever said it out loud? Love - what an odd concept for the reality they lived in. And yet, how else to describe the aching in his ribs when he could not touch her, hold her, kiss her as the sun kissed her, too? How else to justify the strength it took her to keep her eyes down, keep herself quiet, never reach for him when she needed him the most?

“’Tis not,” he argued, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh - there’d be marks later, there always were, carefully hidden in places where his sister or mother would not see, and it would drive him insane, not being able to show it off. He looked up to her, her eyes still closed, and shifting most of his weight on his elbow he brushed the side of her jaw. “Not if you tell me you want it, too. Because I do - so desperately.”

“Aemond,” her whisper turned into a cry, head tilting to lean into his touch.

“I want you to be my wife,” he went on, each sentence a roll of his hips against hers, a pressure so blissful it made her legs lock at his sides. “I want everyone to know whom I belong to. To have you by my side, always, and be able to touch you whenever I wish to,” she shuddered underneath him, biting her lip to keep the noises at bay. “If you want to, say it. Just say it. Please.”

“I do,” she opened her eyes, rapidly blinking as she slipped one finger underneath the strap of his eyepatch. “Seven Hells - you won’t even let me catch my breath?” the prince grinned, shaking his head a little, kissing her with the smile still on his lips - sloppy, all teeth and tongue as he thrust into her again, a little stronger than before.

She moaned into his mouth, arching up to meet him as she slipped the eyepatch from his head, letting it fall at their side before burying her hand back into his hair, pulling on his roots as he rocked into her again, and again, and again. She gasped when he pulled away from her lips, latching onto her neck right away, lips pressed to her pulse. Always so careful to hide his signs on her body, her words pushed him over the line he had not crossed yet, sucking onto the soft skin - harsh, until he knew a purple mark would stick, where it could not be hidden.

“Ñuhon,” whispered, over and over again through quick pecks down her throat, her chest as she cried out again, gripping him tightly and holding him close, riding her high with trembling thighs until she went limp beneath him, still panting. Mine, mine, mine as he came after her with a groan of his own.

“How am I supposed to explain this to your mother?” there was a hazy look in her eyes when she tilted her head to expose her neck, the skin raw and red, bruise already blossoming beneath. Aemond chuckled, the vibration travelling down her body where they were still locked together, making her hiss softly.

Holding himself over her with one arm, purposefully canting his hips into her, still sensitive, she clenched around him, and he took hold of her chin, turning her head until she was looking up at him again with her eyes wide open, that wild look in her eye that always got him reeling. He brought his thumb to her bottom lip, dragging it down a little.

“I will speak to her first thing in the morning,” her breath fanned hot across the pad of his finger, a quiet exhale at his words. “Tell her you will be my wife,” he brushed his thumb from one corner of her mouth to the other as he slipped out of her. Her lips parted furthermore at the movement, the friction making her groan softly. “Ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

“Aemond, you’re -” “Yours,” he moved his hand from her face, down her neck, chest, between the valley of her breasts, touches that made goosebumps raise across her skin, her legs falling at each of her sides. “You worry too much, jorrāeliarza,” he said then, shifting to her side.

She followed him, turning to face him, one hand falling to his chest and curling above his heart while the other reached up to his face, her ring finger brushing the edge of his scar lightly as he rubbed her side, the sore spots on her hips.

“And you, not enough,” she retorted, her voice soft. “It is all nice in theory, but your mother might not like the idea - it is very likely she will not,” he turned his head, kissing her wrist. “And what about Helaena? What if she -” her words were muffled by his mouth pressing on hers again. “No, do not try to fuck me out of thinking -” he kissed her again, a little chuckle against her lips before pulling back, grinning at her glare.

“Do you wish to marry me?” she went to reply right away, and he was quick to put his hand over her mouth, gaining another annoyed look. “Yes or no, I won’t hear anything else,” he warned, slowly moving his fingers from her lips.

“Yes,” she said quietly, and he smiled, bowing his head towards hers. “But -” “Enough fussing, litse mēre,” he kissed her shoulder, quickly glancing at the mark getting darker on her neck with a self-satisfied grin. “I have something for you.”

“What?” she frowned, watching him get up from her side. She reached for the covers, pulling them up to her chest as she sat on the edge of the bed with a little groan, the soreness spreading to her limbs. She rolled her shoulders, her neck, still keeping an eye on him.

Aemond had reached the table by the fireplace, usually occupied with books, and was already making his way back with his hands behind his back - she tilted her head, curiosity shimmering in her eyes. He kept his gaze on her as he moved back in front of her, then knelt by the bed, movements graceful before placing himself between her knees covered by the sheets. Her eyes danced from his shoulder - still attempting to get a peek - to his face, expectantly.

“Give me your hand,” he said softly, moving just one hand from behind his back, palm facing up towards the ceiling. She frowned at him again, and his smile only widened, amused. “You trusted me with Vhagar, have a little faith now, will you?”

“A dragon is less unpredictable than you are,” she scoffed, but rested her hand on his, palm against palm, her skin already colder than his. He snorted, bowing his head to kiss her ring finger before producing, from behind his back, a circlet.

He felt her hold her breath as he slowly put it on her, the thin band fitting smoothly past her knuckles, shining brightly against her skin. Her eyes were fixed on it, fingers flexing lightly over his palm and making the light hit the small violet and blue stones with each movement.

“It’s Valyrian steel,” he spoke in a low voice, thumb brushing her fingertips as silence enveloped them. She hadn’t as much as breathed again, gaze unwavering on their joined hands. “You know I am partial to sapphires, but you mentioned amethysts that first night, and I thought -” he shrugged lightly, running his thumb quickly over the ring, making it twist a little around her finger. Still, she remained silent, and the prince sighed. “Do not leave me in agony - say something.”

“You have actually thought about this,” her voice was unbelievably small, and she let her gaze flicker up, then back down to her hand. “You - have you truly been thinking about marriage?” she sounded baffled, and Aemond arched his eyebrows a little.

“Of course,” he reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, head tilting slightly to the side. “Haven’t you?” she leaned into his touch, a motion so familiar to him.

“I never dared,” her confession held a note of sadness that he wished to wipe away desperately, his hand cradling her cheek as she kept her gaze low. “Had I allowed myself to entertain the thought, it would’ve destroyed me, and I couldn’t -” she shook her head, bringing the un-ringed hand over his on her face. “You think me unafraid for facing a dragon, for looking at you when no one else would - but this terrifies me. Desiring you was bold enough, but to be your wife?” she lingered on the word, eyes widening as it turned in her mouth, unfamiliar yet warm. “The mere thought makes me ache.”

“You told me there’s more to me - to us - than blood and bone. More than mere physical needs, and I -” his pinky brushed the side of her neck, tracing the edge of the bruise in the shape of his lips, words sitting on the tip of his tongue. “You were meant for more than the shadows, and I want to give you that. Not as my paramour, but as my bride,” he brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing where the ring sat with a whisper. “Ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

“You want an awful lot, my prince,” a timid smile made its way across her lips, and he did not even try to hold back his. He let go of his hand to wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed - she let both her arms fall to his shoulders, head slightly bowed to look at him. “My love,” whispered, as her fingers ran through the tips of his hair.

“Say you do,” a kiss to her chest, covers falling from her body. “Say you will,” a kiss to her shoulder, head tilting back to meet her eyes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I do,” she didn’t hesitate again, though her heart stuttered with fear and excitement alike. “I will marry you.”

Alicent knew her son - for years, the closest relationship she’d had was with Aemond.

He was far from being an open book to her, she could rarely tell what he thought or felt. But she knew when he was mulling over something, could see it on his face, playing out as silence enveloped them - it wasn’t bothersome, wasn’t resentful, but it carried a weight that could linger only so much before starting to feel too much.

“Alright,” she sighed, leaning towards him, breaking the quiet. “Out with it, what is it?” he looked at her, and for the first time he seemed worried - immediately, it started gnawing at Alicent’s insides, the absence of reply from her son only worsening the feeling. “Aemond?”

“It’s about Helaena’s companion,” he kept his voice low and even, hand wrapping around the armrest of the chair once, twice, a drumming as he said her name, voice so soft Alicent had to sit back with a frown across her brow.

“Alright,” she repeated, tone measured. “What happened?” “Well, we - I -” he exhaled, turning his head a little and drumming his fingers again. She watched him carefully - Aemond had never stuttered, never hesitated with his speech, Gods knew his bluntness had caused enough problems.

“Is she alright?” Alicent asked, the nail of her middle finger digging into the pad of her thumb before she got up. “I won’t send her away, Aemond. She’s been too precious for us, for Helaena, I cannot -” she moved towards the door, back towards him, to the door again. “If anything happened, just -”

“No, mother, it’s not like that,” he said suddenly, urgently, and a flicker of panic crossed his face as he stood as well. Alicent brought one hand to her chest, relieved and regretful equally - because she’d grown too used to think the worst of every situation, yet whatever it was still weighed on Aemond, so much so he could not look at her. “I -” he stood in front of her, his head slightly lowered as he hesitated again. “I love her.”

The words were odd and heavy in his mouth, as realisation that that was the first time he said it out loud settled on him, and the truth of it made his shoulders sag, even as his mother stared up at him, wide eyes unblinking with stupor.

“I have no intention of making her a side figure in my life,” he went on. “Nor to hide her.”

“What are you saying?” she shook herself a little, though the sentence alone was enough to ricochet through her bones for days to come. Such sincerity, such feeling she’d never heard him - or anyone else, for the matter - express.

“I intend to marry her - with or without your blessing,” he said, more like the usual Aemond, chin raised and back straight, as if taking pride in his statement - all the while, his gaze softened. “Though I would very much prefer it if you did approve.”

“You -” Alicent arched her eyebrows, stepping back towards her chair with hesitant steps. “Oh, dear,” she sat down, leaning back and lifting her hand to her head, as if to hold it up.

“We have been otherwise intertwined for the past few months,” his mother scrunched up her nose at his words, pressing her middle finger between her eyebrows with a sigh.

“I know, you needn’t say more about that,” she waved her hand as if dismissively, and it was the prince’s turn to frown. “You know?”

“I am not blind, Aemond. And I’m your mother,” she dropped both hands in her lap, tilting her head to look up at him. “I knew there was something between the two of you already. I just did not expect it’d come to marriage,” she almost muttered the last phrase, turning her head a little before her face lit up again with worry. “Does she know you’re asking this?”

“She does,” that seemed to relieve the queen a little, shoulders sagging with her exhale. “But you knew? And you said nothing?”

“She came to me once - very early on her days here, terrified, because -” Aemond sat down slowly, and she followed the movement of his hands wrapping around the armrests, knuckles turning white. “Aegon had ripped part of her dress trying to grab her, and she’d hit him back,” surprisingly, a little smile caught on his mother’s lips, though she was quick to mask it. “She wanted to apologise for doing so, said she’d understand if we’d send her away, or anything else that might come her way.”

“I don’t understand where -” she lifted her hand to quieten him, Aemond sealing his lips shut.

“She was not afraid of Aegon’s reaction, nor mine - she did not want to leave Helaena alone,” at that, Alicent lowered her gaze, twisting her hands a little. “At first I let her stay because Helaena adored her. And then because it was nice having someone to talk to, and I like her. And I know Aegon hasn’t let go of it.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you knew, mother,” he pointed out, carefully, keeping his anger in check. Alicent’s eyes were on his hands, still tightly holding the armrests.

“I know because I know you,” she said softly, giving him a tentative smile. “You haven’t been subtle, Aemond, not with the way you look at her,” his lips parted, as if to argue, but when he met his mother’s gaze he bit his tongue. “She hasn’t said a single ill word about you - she’s kept you like a secret, just as you have tried. But marriage? How did it get to this?”

Suddenly, Aemond was a child again, unsure of what was the right thing to say - he shrugged lightly, tapping his fingers. He wasn’t sure he could explain it, that that was the only thing that had made sense in a few months; that had she refused him he would’ve understood, but wouldn’t have known how to move on; that he wanted it so much it was burning him from inside out.

“I feel about her the same way I felt after claiming Vhagar,” he said carefully, and the smile on Alicent’s lips widened a bit. “This constant euphoria that makes my heart race. But at the same time,” he tilted his head a little, fingers curling, “as if I can just be.”

His mother did not reply - she leaned over the armrest of her chair, reaching for him with her eyes shimmering slightly. It was a look he thought he’d never seen on her face, and it puzzled him as she took his hand and squeezed, hard, her ring pushing into his knuckles.

“I’m happy for you, my darling,” her voice was gentle, head slightly tilted. Aemond did not remember the last time his mother had looked serene, if ever. He watched her prepare to speak again, only to be interrupted by a knocking on the door - she frowned, ever so lightly, and pulled her hand back from him. He knew she’d done it for his sake, wished she hadn’t as she called, “Come on in.”

She stepped inside, hair unbound except for two small braids connected at the back of her head, the neckline of her dress high - to which Aemond grinned, thinking about her fussing over the mark on her neck in the morning in front of his mirror, sending him a glare when he’d said how much it suited her. Her gaze was lowered to a bundle of letters in her hands.

“My queen, I was -” she looked up, temporarily triumphant with the paper she intended to find in her hand, only for her gaze to settle on Aemond - a split second, nothing longer, then back to the queen, then down again. “Apologies, your highness, I shall come back later.”

“Jorrāeliarza,” Aemond called, unable to keep the amusement in his voice. There was a softness to the word which told Alicent more than what knowing the meaning of it would’ve - he watched them look at each other a moment too long, Aemond with glee, the woman with a hint of worry. “I told her.”

“You -” she stammered, eyes widening a little. He watched her pick at her fingers, just as Alicent watched the new ring on her, eyebrows arching a little. She rocked a little side to side, flinching when she pulled too hard on the skin and drew blood around her fingernail, just as she met the queen’s gaze. “Oh.”

“Come sit,” Alicent told her softly, and before she could gesture to the empty chair, Aemond had gotten up, leaving the spot for her. She hesitated for a moment, then reached the chair with a single glance in the prince’s direction - his expression had softened as he followed her with his gaze, standing by the chair. “You have nothing to worry about, darling girl. I don’t think I could oppose your union even if I wanted to,” she smiled as she said it.

“Then there is something I must tell you, my queen,” she said slowly, her hands clasped on her lap, thumb pushing and turning the ring on her finger. “Though I do hope my past insincerity won’t change your judgement as it is now.”

Alicent’s eyes flickered to Aemond - but he was only looking at her, eye locked on the side of her face. He kept one arm behind his back, while slowly, ever so carefully, reaching for her shoulder with his other one. She leaned towards his touch, so rapidly and on instinct the queen believed she did not even realise, though some tension seemed to leave her posture.

“Alright, then,” she nodded in encouragement, brow pinched.

And she told her everything - her family, her betrothal, her almost wedding, the man’s illness, the beatings, the abuse, the scars, all the reasons why she’d reacted the way she had at Aegon’s touch, at his insistence. As she spoke, Aemond’s hand travelled upwards, caressing the back of her neck, brushing her hair gently, soothingly. He’d heard it all before, scattered through sleepless nights and stolen moments of the days, had wished to hunt down all the people that had touched her, hurt her, wronged her. Alicent saw it all on his face, a lingering rage brought forth by nothing but the affections he had for the girl.

By the time she was done, she’d leaned almost fully into Aemond’s support, his body standing straight at the side of the chair, his hand now resting on her opposite shoulder, holding her to him in a half hug. As Alicent got up, she wondered if they even realised they’d been seeking each other out for consolation. The queen crouched in front of her, watched her eyes widen slightly as she took her hands gently.

“I have always thought you were an extraordinary woman,” she told her, thumbs tracing her maimed fingertips. “I’m glad my Aemond has found you - but this won’t be easy.”

“I didn’t expect it to be,” she replied right away, Aemond’s grip tightening for a moment. “Good,” she nodded, just once, squeezing her hands before standing. “You’ve been at court long enough to know you’ll be watched, and studied - don’t let them win.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, a little tearful, the queen’s touch lingering on her skin. “I have just one request,” she said after a moment, looking first at her, then turning to Aemond - a request for them both. Frowning a little, he nodded, and watched as her hand rose to his, gently brushing the tip of her fingers to his knuckles. “Could I be the one to tell Helaena? Alone? I believe she’s expecting me.”

“Are you -” Alicent began to ask, but noticed the determination in her eyes right away - so similar to Aemond’s, two flames from the same fire, burning brighter together. She sighed, nodded again. “Of course.”

She stood at last, gratefulness in her eyes as she held the queen’s hands again - just a moment, a silent thank you that words could not express. Aemond’s touch lingered on her, an odd sense of peace settling in his bones. Even as he watched her turn her head towards him, say nothing else, escape his touch; even as he watched the door close behind her; even as he wished he’d held her a while longer. She was no longer his secret, he was no longer hers.

“She has quick steps,” Alicent said, bringing his attention to her. “What?” he frowned, unsure he’d heard her correctly.

“She walks fast - she’ll be to Helaena’s room quickly, and who knows when they’ll come out,” the queen shrugged, her son still looking at her perplexed - she sighed, shaking her head a little. Young love, she thought, how she wished she’d known it properly. “Go on then, go after her,” she waved her hand with a scoff.

Aemond grinned, wide and unabashed, unrestrained joy that shimmered in his eye and made Alicent’s heart swell. How could he ever think he’d deny him this? He moved towards the door, long and quick steps to reach it hurriedly, but stopped midway - turned, moved back to his mother with the same haste. He kissed her cheek, hands on her elbows, so abruptly she yelped in surprise - before she could say more he was outside, the silent thanking like a mark on the woman’s face.

Uncaring of questions or raised brows, he ran after her, cutting a corridor or two to get to Helaena’s rooms faster - he expected to catch her on the last step, have to argue with her about getting just one kiss in broad daylight now that his mother knew. Instead, she stood perfectly still in front of the door, and the tension in her shoulders told him of her hesitancy.

“I do hope you’re not having second thoughts now,” he called, softly enough she did not startle, reaching her side. His hand found the small of her back, head tilting to look at her expression - while she twisted her hands again, her brow was pinched, cheeks hollowed. “I believe my mother is already planning the event. I would tell her to keep it small, but I doubt that’d be of any use,” he smiled, hand travelling up to in between her shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on her tense muscles. When she didn’t reply, he stepped a little closer, pressing against her side. “What is it, litse mēre?”

“What if Helaena isn’t happy?” she blurted out, fingers flexing in front of her, taking half a step back and bumping into him, then immediately forward, face falling in defeat. “What if she doesn’t like the idea of us being together? Of us being married? What if -” she groaned a little, frustrated, lowering her gaze to her hands.

With his free hand, Aemond hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her head back enough that she was looking up at him, her nostrils flaring, eyelids trembling. He leaned in a little, waited for her to pull back - when she did not move, the prince kissed her softly, just once, then rested his forehead against hers.

“She’ll understand,” he reassured in a whisper, and the woman sighed, eyes screwed shut. “I just don’t want her to be unhappy,” she admitted, hand finding purchase on Aemond’s arm, tucking it against her chest. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

For a moment, Aemond found it almost funny that she feared the princess’ reaction more than she’d feared the queen’s judgement. He thought about what she’d told him - I have no title, all my possessions come from my work. From Helaena. - yet knew that was not the reason: she adored the princess deeply, and it was not gratitude that moved her and kept her at her side. It was love, profound and somewhat both different and the same to the one they shared in quiet.

“I keep thinking you’d give up life itself if it meant not having Helaena come in harm’s way,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the bridge of her nose. She scoffed a little, shaking her head before he cupped her cheeks with both hands, gazes unfaltering. “She’ll understand,” he repeated, “she adores you - and if not for your sake, then definitely for mine,” he said with a grin, to which she responded with a pout. “Nothing has ever made me as happy as this.”

“This?” the teasing fell from her lips on instinct, making the prince chuckle. He kissed her again, a little rougher than the previous time, and her hand clasped tightly around his wrist - more and stop equal commands in her touch. When he pulled back, he saw her gaze flicker to the door and he laughed again.

“I’ll be waiting for you here,” she seemed about to argue, but stopped herself as her lips moved, biting down on her lip before nodding, squeezing his wrist just once before he let her go. She didn’t look back after knocking, Helaena’s voice beckoning her forward, but felt the back of her neck burn under the prince’s gaze.

“Helaena?” she called softly, the door closing behind her back. The princess sat with her embroidery on her lap, the beginning of a new spider on the piece of fabric - she smiled at her friend as she came in, scooting a little to the side as she always did. “May we speak for a moment?” there was no point stalling, no point hesitating.

“Of course,” she nodded, putting the embroidery aside and looking up at her as she approached. “Are you not hot in that dress? Is everything alright?”

She reached at the neckline of her neck, the small ruffles tickling underneath her jaw - in truth, it was a dress made for the snowy months, when the air was cold and cruel. It was also the only thing that could cover Aemond’s work on her neck for the time being. She then touched her cheeks with the back of her hand, still warm from the prince’s kiss and his words.

“Everything’s fine,” she said, shaking her head rapidly as she approached the couch, sitting by her. “Do you remember the ball thrown by the king a few months back? Lord Jason Lannister got too drunk, Ser Criston almost got punched when trying to escort him out,” Helaena’s smile flashed amused, nodding.

“I remember Aemond, too,” she replied, making the other woman inhale sharply - of course she’d remember. “He’d been looking at you the whole night - I believe he really did want to dance with you, not me.”

“I think so, too,” the prince had admitted it, one night in his rooms as she tried to get him to dance - she’d been the one leading that time, too, though he hadn’t minded, not if it meant getting more and more of her laughter. “That night, the prince and I talked - he brought me to the dragon pit, showed me Vhagar,” surprise registered on Helaena’s face, piecing together her friend’s words. “It - I don’t know how to describe it, nor how it made me feel, and he -” she closed her eyes, because it was always easier to voice her feelings when the world was dark, it kept the fears at bay. “He’s been so gentle with me, and lately - a few months, actually - when I wasn’t with you I ended up spending some time with him,” she dug her nails into the palm of her hands, fists held so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Some nights, too. Mostly nights, really.”

She cursed herself for babbling on, nerves on edge that made her forget the whole speech she had prepared in her head - she should’ve practised it, thought about it longer, made sure she began talking and not linger on sentences for too long, let the princess know how things were and apologise for not telling her. But truly, how to say it properly?

The prince has asked me to marry him, which sounds insane to me, too - what’s even more absurd is that I said yes, even though I’m terrified, even though anything could go wrong, even though I am scared you might despise the idea and not want to have anything to do with me anymore, and that would break my heart.

“Does he love you?” the question caught her so by surprise her eyes shot open as a little hiccup trapped in her throat. When she looked at the princess, Helaena wasn’t looking at her but at her hands, still fisted tightly, almost numb. Not her hands, she thought, the ring.

“I -” she frowned, almost tucking the ring away to not let her see but thinking better of it. “I think so? Hope so,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head.

Love was not a thing that Aemond said, yet she realised she’d never doubted the truth of his affections. He’d shown her, time and time again, holding her at night and searching for her during the day, with kisses and glances, soft reassurances while hidden underneath his covers and quiet promises by the Weirwood tree. He’d shown her with trust, given and gained. He’d shown her with the night sky, and arms securely wrapped around her.

“He does,” she said then, surprising herself with a smile blossoming on her face.

Helaena brought her hand over her friend’s lap, brushing the tip of her fingers to her knuckles - she eased her fists right away, the soothing touch so similar to the one she’d done countless times on herself, on the princess, too. She picked her hand up, palm against palm, and craned her neck a little to study the ring, sapphires and amethyst shimmering.

“I told him to mind the fall,” the princess pointed out, voice a little distant, still drawing circles across the back of her hand with her other one as she frowned - words she remembered her saying twice, mind the fall, mind the fall with her. “Has he asked you to marry him, then?” she nodded slowly, glad it had been her saying the words.

“He has,” she said, and Helaena took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Good,” was her only reply, and she glanced up at her with eyes open wide, lips parted, startled. At her silence, Helaena too looked up, tilting her head to the other side.

“You’re not… cross?” she asked quietly, limbs so heavy she didn’t think she’d be able to pick them up again. It was the princess’ turn to frown. “Why would I be?” she asked, face softening in a smile as she leaned forward. “You’ll be my sister then.”

Relief washed over her so abruptly she could not help the sob escaping her, frame bending forward as she reached for Helaena. She wrapped both her arms around her, the princess remaining tense for just a moment before returning the hug, a tangle of arms and skirts as they held onto the other tightly. She thought she was crying as she buried her head against Helaena’s shoulder, but the princess just kept rubbing her back - how often she’d done the same at night, soothing her from dreams she did not like.

“I must tell Aemond to not steal you away from me too often, even if you are to be his wife,” Helaena murmured and, unable to help herself, she laughed.

“You mustn’t worry about that, princess,” she sniffled, pulling back from the hug - there was a rosy hue to Helaena’s cheeks, and she brushed it quickly with her thumb, as if taking it away. “I have no intention of letting my affections for him get in the way of us.”

“Perhaps then you’ll sneak out of his rooms to get to mine instead,” Helaena grinned and, leaving her to her bafflement, returned to her embroidery.

The crowd made her dizzy - she could not remember the last time so many eyes were on her, and though years had passed from her previous life, there was a constant, terrifying alarm in her head. If someone recognised her, it might be over, not even Queen Alicent could help her. The cloak felt heavy on her shoulders, the colours not belonging to her family - anonymous, unworthy of notice. That would’ve been, if not for the fact she was marrying a prince.

The godswood was silent as she walked along the path, blissful quiet interrupted only by her steps, and Helaena’s behind her. She wasn’t sure she still believed the Gods, old or new, but she could trust the sense of safety that enveloped her as she made her way towards the prince, waiting for her by the Weirwood tree. The white and red robes wrapped around her were comfortable, warm, safe - to see Aemond don the same colours, so different from his usual black attire, made her smile. The headpiece carefully balanced on top of her braided hair chimed with her steps, like a song welcoming her home.

Their eyes were burning the back of her head - the queen and princess stood by her, no man accompanying her towards the septon, but her protectors during her new life, leading her to the man that had set her free. She forced herself to focus on that, gaze fixed on the one-eyed prince - not the King, who hadn’t said a single word about the whole ordeal, uncaring; not the older prince, his head slightly bowed. Her attention was for Aemond only - it had to. And in return, he smiled.

The flames kissed the planes of Aemond’s face, lights dancing around him from candles lit precariously close to the trees - it didn’t seem to matter, not with the way the prince smiled, not with the thundering of her own heart trapped behind her ribcage louder and louder with each step. That was the moment, she thought, the moment everything would change: it didn’t matter that the people would witness a ceremony the following day, it didn’t matter that the King and Queen would see them, two people getting married in the eyes of the Seven, too.

It was Helaena removing the cloak from her shoulders - passing from a sister to a brother, the closest thing to tradition the situation would allow. If anyone had had anything to say on the matter, they’d either kept it for themselves or had been silenced - she couldn’t find it in her to care. It was all a show, for the people to know it had happened. They were bound already, even before he wrapped his cloak on her shoulders, hands lingering about her throat, gaze cast towards the binding around the palm of his left hand, matching her own.

“Blood of two joined as one,” Helaena recited as she closed her eyes, offering her mouth to the small weapon in Aemond’s grip. “Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers forged in fourteen fires,” she didn’t flinch when he cut her, instead fixed her gaze on him, lingering on the missing eyepatch that had left a red mark on his temple. “A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.”

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife,” the septon began wrapping the ribbon around their uncut hands, slowly binding them to the other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The dragonglass was cold in the palm of her hand, her grip temporarily unsure as she held it to Aemond’s lip. The sapphire shimmered when he shifted, eyelids trembling slightly.

“Not having second thoughts now, are you?” it was meant jokingly, an amused whisper between the two of them, even with Helaena still present, their only witness besides the Gods.

“No,” was her quick reply, gaze flickering towards his. “Of course not,” she cupped her free hand to his cheek. “It’ll scar,” she said then, softer. Unable to help himself, he chuckled, brushing the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip.

She licked her bottom lip, the fresh, linear cut left uncovered still visible, the taste of blood still lingering. Already bound by fire and blood, they stood before the Seven with their hands joined as the septon began the prayer, leading the people with them, their heads bowed accompanied by stolen glances.

Her blood smudged on his thumb, a sharp hiss leaving her when he pressed the thumb gently into the fresh cut on her lip, her eyes shimmering making him grin.

“It will,” he replied, and his smile widened, euphoria overtaking them both as her lips parted with a light hiss. “I don’t care - it’ll be a reminder of you, of us,” the tip of her tongue darted out, tasting herself on her mouth, on his finger as he leaned his head closer. “Of this.”

“I believe sneaking out in the middle of the night to perform a secret wedding is quite worthy of remembrance in and of itself, my love,” she whispered, and before he could reply she cut his lip, pain setting his eye ablaze.

The ribbon was soft, a strand of silk singing with the intertwining movements, one turn around the hands over the other.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words:”

He traced the symbol on her forehead slowly, blood warm and thick running over her skin - Fire, burning bright like the red of her hair still capturing the flames. She did the same with the symbol they’d taught her just mere minutes before - Blood, dark and shimmering on his pale skin.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” they spoke in unison, looking at each other, and she couldn’t help the smile on her mouth, making her lip tingle with the movement, the threat of the wound reopening sending shivers down her spine.

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,” Aemond said, each word clear, audible, echoing throughout the full Sept, echoing in her own words -

“I am his and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

“It’ll scar,” he said, a little amused, cutting his palm above the cup she was holding, letting it drip into it for one, two, three, seven seconds before Helaena wrapped his palm for him, quiet and with eyes filled with mirth. “Do you want me to do it?” he asked softly, holding his hand slightly up. She shook her head, handing him the goblet instead and taking the dragonglass from him. She was resolute, decided, the cut firm, red dripping down the tip of her fingers right away for one, two, three -

Aemond, fingers wrapped around hers to tighten the binding, leaned in slowly. “With this kiss, I pledge my love,” he announced, keeping his voice just a little lower - my love, words spoken in the middle of the night they held onto desperately, almost fearful they would disappear, almost afraid it would be but a dream.

The dream did not end, but bled into their first public kiss, with cheers she stopped caring whether they were truthful or not.

As Helaena wrapped her hand as well, she met Aemond’s eye, lifting the cup to her own lips, bloods dark and showing the reflection of the creature she’d become - something unnatural, someone he could love, someone who loved him just as fiercely, forged in dragonfire, made of the same substance. She drank almost greedily, the tip of his fingers guiding the goblet, hungry gaze watching her, the bob of her throat and, when they moved it back, the smear of blood across her mouth - he fought the urge to lean in and drink from her instead, taste their union directly from her lips, take it all and more.

The kiss stung, skin pulling and burning as she squeezed his hand within the bindings, letting her eyes flutter shut fully so the rest of the world could vanish and, even there, even then, it could be just them, their union all that mattered, foregoing titles and roles until all was left was the taste of copper and the feeling of the prince’s body closing the gap. When Aemond pulled back - only partially concerned with propriety as his arm slid about her waist underneath his own cloak - his lips were stained red, pulled in a smirk, and she could feel the single drop of blood falling slowly towards her chin.

“Old Gods, New Gods, Fire and Blood,” she whispered, only faintly aware of the crowd awaiting them. “You’re stuck with me now, my prince, in the eyes of them all.”

He emptied the cup, and she smiled. She smiled and smiled and then leaned in to kiss him at last, sealing the whole ordeal, ending the ceremony with that immortal bond on the tip of their tongues - blood and blood, fire and fire, within and outside, two people made one.

“Good,” he replied, kissing the wound one last time before turning her towards the people. Their new princess, his bride, his love.

A goddess made of fire, forged in blood.

jorrāeliarza - dear/beloved ñuha gevie rēko - my beautiful rose ñuhon - mine ñuha ābrazȳrys - my wife

#dark sonnet #redahlia #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond x original character #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond fanfiction

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wheretheharekissesthefox · 14 days

Text

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) - Chapter 3

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, graphic description of violence, non-con/rape, smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster, mobster AU

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

The poems are my own, but inspired by "The Heart of the Night" and "The Starry Midnight Whispers" by Bliss Carman. The names of the fictional poets are parodies of the aforementioned author.

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

When Gale woke up the next morning, Astarion's gone. He had expected it in a way, but he still couldn't help but feel bitterly disappointed. Grumpily, the wizard left the bed, running his fingers through his hair. He felt sticky and gross and in dire need of a bath. Just as he reached the bathroom door, it was opened and Gale was face-to-face with Astarion.

"Good morning, darling. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your things," lilted the vampire spawn.

"Not at all," muttered the wizard. He was pleasantly surprised that Astarion was still here.

"Is it alright if I take a bath now?" he asked.

"Of course, darling. Go on."

The elf waved his hand elegantly towards the bathroom and indicated to walk away, before he seemed to remember something and turned towards Gale again.

"I almost forgot," he purred and locked lips with the wizard. The latter sighed into the kiss, savouring every second of it, but at the same time, he noticed that Astarion was on his tiptoes and thus, a bit shorter than him. The vampire spawn was the first to take a step back and vanish into the bedroom with a smirk and a flirty wink. Gale felt dizzy as he entered the steam-filled bathroom to get clean. With a snap of his fingers, the tub started to fill up by itself while Gale used the latrine and, afterwards, added some lavender oil to the bathwater. He sunk into the tub with a deep sigh and tried to relax, but his thoughts were orbiting around his last night’s playmate too much to find peace. Thus, Gale started to wash himself and shampooed his hair. He rinsed off quickly, wrapped himself in a towel, and tidied up the bathroom with a muttered spell. The wizard went back to the bedroom to grab some fresh clothes. He paused when he saw Astarion lounging in the bed, lolling around like Tara in front of the fireplace during the colder months. The vampire spawn smirked at him.

"Do you like what you see, darling? Just say 'please' and you'll get another taste."

Gale considered it. On the one hand, it was tempting to go back to bed, but on the other hand, they needed to talk.

Why must you always be boring? rebuked his mind. Astarion will leave soon and he doesn't seem like the type who comes back for seconds. This is your last chance to have sex with him again.

"Shut up," grumbled Gale moodily. Astarion raised an eyebrow.

"Are you talking to me?"

"No, my brain. It's thinking too loudly."

At that, the elf snickered amused.

"You're one of a kind, Gale of Waterdeep. I've never met anyone like you before."

"Same goes for you," smiled the addressed.

"Naturally," teased Astarion and winked again.

Gale took a deep breath and licked his lips nervously.

"Would you... would you like a repetition of last night?" he asked shyly and the vampire spawn grinned widely.

"Darling, nothing would bring me more pleasure." Astarion spread his long, skinny legs to put himself on display again. He teased himself with his elegant fingers and purred: "Come and take what you want."

"I only take what's offered," replied Gale, but moved closer nonetheless. He gazed at the elf for a moment, running his hand along Astarion's leg. "Gods, you're beautiful."

"Thank you. So are you, darling. Now, come here."

The vampire spawn pulled the wizard into a passionate kiss and hooked a leg around the latter's waist. Gale started to leave a trail of kisses down Astarion's neck and collarbone. Carefully, he guided the elf onto his back, his lips never leaving Astarion's cool skin.

"I want to worship you," Gale revealed. "I want to give you what you deserve."

"I – What I deserve is –"

"Everything. You deserve everything, Astarion."

The addressed opened his mouth to object, but he stayed silent when Gale bent down to kiss his sternum.

"You are... one of a kind, Gale of Waterdeep," mumbled the vampire spawn again and sighed when the wizard's hot tongue lapped across his hipbone.

Gale hummed and instead of a verbal reply, he started worshipping Astarion's body. Kissing and licking every part of it. Showing him how precious he was and how much he meant to the wizard. The vampire spawn smelled like Gale's lavender soap, his own perfume long gone. The human wizard blew him while fingering him open, and Astarion moaned blissfully, his fingers digging into the pillow his head was resting on.

It was too much. Too gentle. Too... loving. Astarion started to squirm as his vision blurred with tears. With a sharp cry, his body betrayed him and he climaxed, spilling down Gale's willing throat who swallowed eagerly.

"Off," Astarion groaned. "Please. No more."

Gale complied immediately, letting go of him and lying down next to him. Why was the wizard so considerate? Why did he treat him so gently, like something valuable? Astarion screwed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. He panted, even though it was unnecessary, and by doing so, he inhaled the wizard's scent. Lavender, cedarwood, and sandalwood. Gods... how intoxicating... Astarion turned slightly to kiss Gale. The latter rolled on top of him and lifted up the elf's legs to make himself comfortable between them. Astarion tensed. Gale detected a mixture of panic and fear crossing the vampire spawn's face, thus, he simply leaned over him to place a kiss on his forehead. Then, the wizard got off of him again and lay down instead. With a small smile, Gale patted his own thigh as an invitation. Astarion blinked, visibly confused about the wizard's choice, but then, he moved, climbing into Gale's lap. The haughty, self-assured smirk was back in place as Astarion took a hold of the wizard's erection and sat down on it. The latter sighed happily. As Gale pulled the elf into another passionate kiss, his hands wrapped around his partner's back. He felt raised skin there. Scars. Covering Astarion's entire back. Carefully, the wizard started to trace them with his fingers. Were those letters?

"No!" Astarion shot up, grabbing Gale's wrists tightly. "Don't touch me there!"

The addressed nodded silently and settled his hands on the vampire spawn's thighs instead. The latter seemed tense and there was that panic and fear in his eyes again. Astarion straightened up, closed his eyes, and started to move. He lifted his hips up, then down, then added that wicked slow pointed roll. Up, down, roll. Up, down, roll. Gale groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head. Meanwhile, Astarion was moaning lewdly, but he seemed miles away. The wizard planted his feet on the mattress and thrusted upwards into the vampire spawn, causing the latter to lose his balance and fall forwards. Gasping, Astarion's eyes flew open and he caught himself on Gale's chest. He gazed at the wizard from beneath heavy eyelids while Gale took control of their coupling.

"Talk to me," implored Astarion suddenly. "I want to hear your voice. Please, anything. Just… talk."

So, Gale did. He cited the first poem that came to his mind as he watched the elf's pale skin, silver-white curls, and ruby-red eyes.

"'Pale is the moon, bright are the stars in the sky.

I stand in speechless awe, while beauty marches by.

And even though beauty is in the beholder's eye,

the night's eternal beauty almost makes me cry.'"

"Triss Carmen, Elven poet, propensity to melancholy," panted Astarion. "Beautifully recited, darling." He moaned as Gale changed the angle slightly to hit his prostate dead on. "Don't stop. Keep... keep going."

"'In the face of the universe and the creation's blast,

I am insignificant in all that world-sown vast,

no matter my impact, not matter what spell I cast,

I can only hope and dream that my dream will last.'"

"Keep talking... Gods, please... Gale..."

The addressed could hear Astarion's voice break.

Gale had no idea what the vampire spawn had gone through - who'd hurt him - but it was nothing pleasant, that's for sure. If it had been up to him, they would have stopped immediately, but Astarion was in charge, thus, Gale kept moving – and talking.

"'Again, I muse before the fire

about the embers of desire

and life's logic and meaning

and emotions, love and feeling.

But explanations; there's none to see,

thus, I will follow where love leads me.'"

Mewling, Astarion climaxed and shook apart, and Gale caught him as he collapsed onto him, wrapping his arms around him. The wizard placed a gentle kiss on top of the white curls and held the trembling vampire spawn close, and even though he felt the wetness on his bare chest, he didn't mention it.

"Blyth Cutter, philosophical and talented, but died too young," muttered Astarion after a while, and Gale chuckled at the elf's stubborn replies.

"I hope you'll keep doing that."

"Keep doing what, darling?"

"Telling me who wrote the poems I quote. It shows your knowledge and interest and I... well, I like that."

Now, it was Astarion's turn to chuckle.

"Of course, that aroused you. I should have known." He stroke a hand over Gale's hairy chest before he added: "I'll keep doing it, I promise."

"Thank you," said the wizard and kissed the vampire spawn's hair again. After a long pause, he asked: "Why do you have Infernal written on your back?"

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #lavender and starflower #mobster au #astarion x gale #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mind the trigger warning #mobster monday

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ellocat-poemyourpainaway · 10 months

Text

A reflection on love-the universe projecting perfectly In imperfect people . My love poem to the night.

I whisper to the trees

Walking at night in

Summer.

… “I run out of words and ways to say,

I love you so much.”

My life feels most cinematic

In the moments that are small-

Sparkling trees and grass,

Jurassic twisting limbs cameo reaching to a blanket of star dripped sky.

The wind stirs

And it feels like the trees are sighing back to me

“We love you too little soul,

We feel your warm heart

speaking aura joy,

We open our ranks to you, sister”

And I feel so much fat cat contentment

That I’m allowed this privilege-

To exist in this moment.

And I think -I am

So happy to be alive.

You give me this.

I’d have left a long time ago.

You’ve always been there for me-

Lacing every vivid memory

Is a back drop of communion, comfort and beauty,

The companionship of air, water, and trees. Star worship.

Sky love.

The cool earth under my feet-

Grounding me,

You have always been there for me.

I love you so much.

And then I reflect on love.

My avoidance and need.

Love-the pain we bring. The world Wolfily making songs and movies about love -the fantasy-that “baa baa black sheep” their wool into hopeful and naive hearts that break Into egg shells;

or glow sticks.

Loneliness resonates in the same part pf the brain as pain.

Are you here.

In the clouds that block the starlit sky from my eyes

Or Are you in the air that kisses my face.

Did you love me?

How does a heart fall so hard-

I try so hard now,

To avoid slips and trips-

To be immune.

That I’m stunned

He is here-

This love of mine.

He’s in my heart.

I tried to lock the doors-

So he climbed through the window.

And I love him. In my skin,

Inseparable from me.

In me. A part of me.

I love him like Pablo Neruda said

… not like a salt roze, or topaz.

Iykyk.

(“So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep”)

Imbedding framework just to be misunderstood is exhausting my fiery flame of an aries spirit….

But iykyk

“As certain dark things…in my skin…

Only that I know no other way.”

Of me, in me, made for me, my future is you in me …

Do you see forever in my eyes ?

I know-I’m

Complex.

But do you?

See forever in my eyes?

Do you see the deep oceans in me that are secretly salty tears I hold inside

Can you sense the impending storms

Feel the electric train track current

Can you feel my paradox

My broken dam about to flood

Can you feel me aching with need

But begging to be free

Can you tell I’m tired of myself

I’m exhausted

Do you

See the love hiding inside me

This is why I talk to the trees

Its a tree old root deep world connected love in me

And sometimes

I Cant help but see

Men as the man who

Won’t even recycle to try and save me

I am oceans….

Full of plastic.

Emaciated polar bears, littered beaches, dying ecosystems raped by greed.

I am the universe, The universe in me-

With a love so vast it encompasses

All the light years, houses all the tears,

As it breaks over and over again on the surf of loss and pain.

And my oceans flood with tears again.

Love won’t save us from ourselves.

Mankind raping the world-even as she giving tree dies to live for us.

I whisper to the trees-

I love you so much. I am so sorry we are hurting you.

Please don’t leave me.

The universe in me-

I am the world.

Flooding my oceans with the tears of wishing humanity cared enough to be green.

I am the world- The world is in me.

Its all the same

Old love, new love, infinite universal love-

Undying and dying,

Seeking forgiveness and renewal to save us all.

I whisper to the trees-

I love you so much.

#poetry #poem #love #enviromental

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iliiuan · 10 months

Text

Epic Fantasy through the Ages

A Chronology of Story

This is a work in progress, but here is my list as of 6 July 2023. Please feel free to send me additions or corrections. I have focused on epic (works that are long and took a long time to create) and fantasy (works that include an element of magic, the supernatural, or superpowers). Some of the list could be categorized as myth, some as Literature™️, some as science fiction, but beyond these categories are the two main criteria of epic and fantasy. I also don't fully know what all of the ancient to modern works encompass, but that's the fun of read and find out. I probably have added some things that don't properly meet my criteria, and that's fine with me. 🌺

Works by Mesopotamian Bards (3100 BC - 539 BC)

Enumah Elish (Epic of Creation)

Atrahasis (The Flood)

Epic of Gilgamesh

Descent of Ishtar

Epic of Erra

Etana

Adapa

Anzu

Nergel and Ereshkigal

Avesta by Zoroastrian Bards (1500 BC)

Ramayana by Valmiki (750+ BC)

Mahabharata by Vayasa (750+ BC)

The Illiad and the Odyssey by Homer (650+ BC)

Thoegeny; Works and Days by Hesiod (650+ BC)

Popol Vuh (4th century BC)

The Torah and other Jewish stories (4th century BC)

Argonautica by Apollonius of Rhodes (270 BC)

Bellum Punicam by Gnaeus Naevius (200 BC)

Annales by Ennius (170 BC)

De Rerum Natura by Lucretius (50 BC)

Poem 64 by Catullus (50 BC)

The Aenid by Virgil (19 BC)

Metamorphoses by Ovid (2 AD)

Punica by Silius Italicus (50 AD)

Satyrica by Petronius (60 AD)

Pharsalia or Bellum Civile by Lucan (62 AD)

Argonautica by Valerius Flaccus (70 AD)

Thebaid by Statius (90 AD)

The Irish Myth Cycles: Mythological, Ulster, Fenian, and Kings (3rd Century AD)

The Bible and other Christian stories (5th century AD)

Dionysiaca by Nonnus of Panopolis (500 AD)

The Quran and other Muslim stories (7th century AD)

Arabian Nights (7th century AD)

Hildebrandslied and other German heroic lays by Bards (830 AD)

Shahnameh by Ferdowsi (977 or 1010 AD)

Chanson de Roland (1125 AD)

Cantar de Mio Sid (1200 AD)

The Dietrich Cycle (1230 AD)

Poetic Edda and Prose Edda by Snorri Sturluson and others (1270 AD)

Beowulf by Old English Bards (11th century AD)

Nibelungenlied by Middle High German Bards (1200)

Amadís de Gaula (13th century AD)

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alghieri (1308)

Teseida by Bocaccio (1340 AD)

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by Middle English Bards (14th century)

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer (1392)

Morgante by Luigi Pulci (1483)

Le morte d'Arthur by Thomas Mallory (1485)

Orlando Innamorato by Boiardo (1495)

Orlando Furioso by Ariosto (1516)

Os Lusiadas by Camoes (1572)

Gerusalemme Liberata by Tasso (1581)

Plays and Poems by William Shakespeare (1589)

The Faerie Queen by Edmund Spencer (1590)

Discourses on the Heroic Poem by Tasso (1594)

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (1614)

L'Adone by Marino (1623)

Paradise Lost; Paradise Regained by Milton (1667)

Le Lutrin by Boileau (1674)

Order and Disorder by Lucy Hutchinson (1679)

Mac Flecknoe; Aenid English translation by Dryden (1682)

The Dispensary bu Samuel Garth (1699)

The Battle of the Books; A Tale of a Tub by Swift (1704)

The Rape of the Lock; Illiad and Odyssey English translations; Dunciad by Pope (1714)

The Vanity of Human Wishes by Samuel Johnson (1749)

Scribleriad by Richard Owen Cambridge (1751)

Faust by Goethe (1772)

The Triumphs of Temper; Essay on Epic Poetry by William Hayley (1782)

The Task by William Cowper (1785)

Joan of Arc; Thalaba the Destroyer; Madoc; The Curse of Kehama by Southey (1796)

The Prelude; The Execution by Wordsworth (1799)

Jerusalem by Blake (1804)

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge (1817)

Laon and Cythna; Peter Bell the Third; Prometheus Unbound by Shelley (1817)

Hyperion: A Fragment; The Fall of Hyperion by Keats (1818)

Don Juan by Byron (1819)

The Kalevala by Elias Lonnrot (1835)

Sohrah and Rustum by Matthew Arnold (1853)

Hiawatha by Longfellow (1855)

Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman (1855)

Idylls of the King by Lord Alfred Tennyson (1859)

Cantos by Ezra Pound (1917)

The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot (1922)

Ulysses by James Joyce (1922)

The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings/The Silmarillion etc. by J.R.R. Tolkien (1937)

Gormenghast by Mervyn Peake (1946)

The White Goddess by Robert Graves (1948)

Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell (1949)

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (1950)

Anathemata by David Jones (1952)

Dune by Frank Herbert (1965)

The Dark Is Rising Sequence by Susan Cooper (1965)

Briggflatts by Basil Bunting (1965)

Earthsea by Ursula K. LeGuin (1968)

Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey (1968)

The Chronicles of Amber by Roger Zelazny (1970)

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice (1976)

The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant by Stephen Donaldson (1977)

The Magic of Xanth by Piers Anthony (1977)

Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolf (1980)

The Dark Tower by Stephen King (1982)

Belgariad and Mellorean by David Eddings (1982)

The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley (1982)

Shannara by Terry Brooks (1982)

The Riftwar Cycle by Raymond E. Feist (1982)

Discworld by Terry Pratchett (1983)

Mythago Wood by Robert Holdstock (1984)

Neuromancer by William Gibson (1984)

The Black Company (1984)

Redwall by Brian Jaques (1986)

Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey (1987)

Memory, Sorrow, Thorn by Tad Williams (1988)

Sandman by Neil Gaimon (1989)

The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan (1990)

Queen of Angels by Greg Bear (1990)

Newford by Charles de Lint (1990)

Omeros by Derek Walcott (1990)

The Saga of Recluse by L.E. Modesitt, Jr. (1991)

The Witcher by Andrzej Sapkowski (1993)

Sword of Truth by Terry Goodkind (1994)

Realm of the Elderlings by Robin Hobb (1995)

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman (1995)

Old Kingdom by Garth Nix (1995)

A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin (1996)

Animorphs by H.A. Applegate (1996)

Crown of Stars by Kate Elliott (1997)

Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling (1997)

The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steve Erickson (1999)

The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher (2000)

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini (2002)

Prince of Nothing by R. Scott Bakker (2003)

Bartimaeus by Jonathan Stroud (2003)

The Gentlemen Bastard Sequence by Scott Lynch (2004)

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer (2005)

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan (2005)

Temeraire by Naomi Novik (2006)

The First Law by Joe Abercrombie (2006)

Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson (2006)

The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss (2007)

Shadows of the Apt by Adrian Tchaikovsky (2008)

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (2008)

Graceling by Kristin Cashore (2008)

Riyria Revelations by Michael J. Sullivan (2008)

Night Angel by Brent Weeks (2008)

The Demon Cycle by Peter V. Brett (2008)

Inheritance by N.K. Jemisin (2010)

The Lightbringer by Brent Weeks (2010)

The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson (2010)

The Expanse by James S.A. Corey (2011)

The Broken Empire by Mark Lawrence (2011)

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer (2012)

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas (2012)

Grishaverse by Leigh Bardugo (2012)

The Traitor Son Cycle by Miles Cameron (2012)

Worm by Wildbow (2013)

The Powder Mage by Brian McClellan (2013)

The Broken Earth by N.K. Jemisin (2015)

Shards of Heaven by Michael Livingston (2015)

The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee (2017)

The Band Series by Nicholas Eames (2017)

Winternight by Katherine Arden (2017)

The Folk of the Air by Holly Black (2018)

The Founders by Robert Jackson Bennett (2018)

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir (2019)

Grave of Empires by Sam Sykes (2019)

Djeliya by Juni Ba (2021)

#epic fantasy through the ages readalong #a chronology of story

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shygirl-1998 · 1 year

Text

Why Am I Here?__ShaiGirl Poet

First, let me start off by telling you who I am;

I am a daughter,

A sister,

A role model,

Someone to look up to,

Someone to admire and be proud of.

I am a friend,

Someone who is caring and giving,

Someone who is great to have in your corner,

Someone who will always have your back,

And also someone who will always be your shoulder to cry on.

I am someone’s first love,

Someone’s first heart ache,

Someone’s first and last thought of every day,

And someone’s reason to smile.

I am a mother,

Someone who is a protector but also a provider,

Someone who looked at her baby girls for the very first time and fell in love instantly,

Someone who sees herself in these little girls as they grow, day by day,

Someone who can’t stand the thought of being a failure in their eyes,

Someone they hold in their hearts and tell everyone I’m the reason they reach for the stars.

There’s more to me than what the eyes can see but we are about to dive deeper into things I hold locked inside of me.

I am a survivor,

From rape by someone I knew and loved,

From a sexual assault I didn’t see coming because he played his part so well,

From domestic abuse, he told me he loved and every day for 6 months I prayed that the “love” he had for me would help him change but it didn’t.

I am someone with anxiety,

Depression,

And PTSD,

But I also try to find the brightest thing every day, no matter how rainy and cloudy it is.

And lastly; I am a cheater,

Since we’re being open and honest here,

Not something I am proud of but something I will own up to no matter how it makes me feel to think about it.

In the end it doesn’t matter compared to what I made them feel.

People make mistakes but most people tend to be dishonest about them.

I would tell the truth even if it may hurt then to have someone, literally anyone else tell you, and have it hurt you more.

I am a lover and not a fighter.

I am strong but also weak.

All of this above; is who I am. I am not ashamed. I am not hiding.

The reason why I think I’m here is because I was made to come into this world and experience the things that I have,

And to take all of it and make somewhat of an impact on this world.

We are all different,

Have learned different lessons,

Have different stories,

And with all of those, we make impacts on the world, no matter how small or big, they are there.

I want to hopefully make an impact of my own on the world and those around me.

Note:

There isn't too much I can say about this one, it basically explains itself. This is one of my most personal poems but it felt so good to write and get it all out on paper. I have posted this one on a couple of other sites and have gotten good feedback.

Hope you enjoy it

Let me know what you think

Xoxo

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 2 years

Text

should have run / but i was a prize

Title taken from the poem Another Rape Poem (Sixteen) by Mary Lambert.

Prompt: Caught off Guard

TMNT IDW.

You can find the whole collection on AO3 here.

(past noncon, nonconsensual touching, past abuse, forced confrontation with abuser, past csa, freeze response, freeze response written by a non-expert, violence, trauma, victim blaming, internalized victim blaming)

It doesn’t happen until a week after he gets back, and Leo doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the idea of leaping straight into chaos after their return to Northampton makes him feel nauseous; on the other, at least they were all so on edge the first night that a surprise attack might not have been a surprise at all.

As it is, they've had a week together and things are...okay, he guesses. He's learning a bit more of the rhythms they settled into while he was what they are politely calling gone, figuring out where he fits into the subtly shifted order. They fall in behind him more eagerly than they have before, even.

They will regret how grateful they are to have you back soon enough, Ma Shredder chides at the back of his mind. You will have to use a firmer hand then. Leo bites his lip and forces the thought away.

He makes an effort to lose himself in the easy laugh, the stupid jokes, the steady movements of feet from roof to roof. It gets easier as he goes, to the point that he starts feeling normal for the first time in a long while.

Predictably, that's when things go to shit.

His only warning is a whistle out of the dark. faint as a muffled whisper. Instinct takes over and he whirls, eyes flicking across the skyline--look for good sniper positions, there and there and there, consider angles--and catches a dark blur. His hand shoots out, grabbing the arrow an instant before it sinks into Donnie's eye.

Donnie freezes, staring the way he does when Leo uses a move he remembers too late the others don't know. But Leo doesn't have time to panic about that like he usually does, because he's whirling, swords springing to life in his hands as arrows fall into pieces around his feet.

Shadows unfurl out of the dark, and Leo--Leo had almost forgotten how frightening it looks from this angle. No sign of a helmet, though, the glint of silver slipping through that dark water like a fish, and Leo feels more relieved than he should in the face of the oncoming fight.

No time to run. This force is small, clearly hastily assembled after they were spotted—they can fight their way out, hopefully. “Brace yourselves!” Leo shouts before the black wave hits.

It's familiar and strange all at once. Leo isn't exactly rusty at melee fighting, thanks to months spent battling the Savate and other groups, but it's more awkward than he expected to not aim for lethal areas. He gets a cut on his knee at one point as a result and hisses in pain, picking up the pace.

Leo leads his brothers as they dart and spin through the crowd, fighting their way out together and apart. They've got advantages over the shoulders, thanks to natural armor and a lifetime of training instead of whatever few years the Foot soldiers have gotten, and it shows in every blow.

Other things show, too. Leo expects to hesitate the first time he recognizes a soldier's fighting style, the glint of a signature weapon or their voice when they huff for air. Instead, he finds himself lunging, seeking out the weaknesses he'd tried to correct in them once upon a time.

It's war, he tells himself, trying to explain how easy it is. He ignores the deeper, darker voice that whispers, they knew, they saw, and none of them ever said a--

Leo knocks aside a blade aimed for Raph's back and kicks the soldier in the head hard enough to hear something crack. He somersaults through the air, metal clanging against metal, landing behind the three men and sending them all flying. A whistle of steel behind his head and he whirls, weapons locking--

Through crossed swords, through masks blue and black, a pair of eyes he knows stare back at him. Not just from the training room or the battlefield, but from the clink of armor coming apart under his hands, the warm steam of a bath, sweaty moans in the dark.

He freezes. The eyes crinkle in what might be (he knows is) a smile, knocking his blades aside. Leo braces for a sword through the gut, but instead he's kicked backward, not hard enough to break ribs, just to send him crashing shell-first into a nearby wall. He looks up and the other soldier is looming over him, eyes still crinkled in that fucking smile.

"Hello, Leonardo," Oroku Saki says, casually propping a hand on the wall beside him. His voice is dead calm, like they aren't in the middle of a battlefield with the shouts of Leo's brothers and his own men ringing through the air. "I missed you."

Move, Leo screams at himself. Fight. But he can't breathe. His limbs are locked up, breath strangled in his throat, memory burning through his guts and between his legs. He lets out a soft, strangled whine and quivers with embarrassment.

Saki chuckles, brushing a hand over Leo's face. The warmth of his skin sends a strange blend of comfort and nausea blooming through his gut, muscles twitching with the memory of all the times he leaned into Saki's touch.

"A good response, although I'm surprised we caught you so off guard,” Saki says, like nothing’s changed and he’s chiding Leo for a mistake in the dojo. “I expected better from you, chunin.”

Something in Leo shrivels at the disappointment in his voice, but he forces the feeling back down. He doesn’t owe this man his respect and they both know it.

“I’m not your fucking chunin,” he rasps, wincing at how his voice is quivering. “Get away from me.”

Saki chuckles, brushing his finger oh-so-gently along Leo’s throat. “You want me gone, Leonardo?” he asks, a hint of danger in his eyes. “Prove it.”

He’s relaxed, almost casual even though he’s wearing much less armor than usual. Leo could kick, punch, bite, gut him with a knife, and as deadly as Saki is he should be able to land enough good hits to break free.

But nothing happens. Leo’s hands and feet tingle numbly, refusing to accept his brain’s frantic signals. His vision is blurry, his earslits muffled, the distant battle feeling far away. He can hear his brothers shouting, but he can’t quite make out their words. His swords are still in his hands, but they feel heavier than lead.

It feels like he’s looking at himself from a distance, his body and Saki’s so close together, Saki’s hips an inch away from rocking into his. The image sickens him, but Leo can’t remember how to make it stop.

“What did you do to me?” His throat isn’t working right; the words don’t come out with the snarl he’d hoped for.

“Nothing at all,” Saki murmurs, free hand coming down to brush Leo’s hip. Leo doesn’t want to believe him, but he hadn’t felt the sting of a tranquilizer like he did the last time and besides, he’s been drugged often enough to recognize that the symptoms don’t quite match up.

“This is your own body that doubts the rat’s teachings.” Saki’s hand tightens on his hip and a soft gasp escapes Leo’s mouth.

“I remember,” his breath hitches, “remember you hurting me.” He thinks of all the bruises these hands have left, how hard he was pushed day and night, how it didn’t matter if Leo was tired because he’d be spreading his legs anyway.

Leo wants the memories to make him angry, but instead he feels sick, and scared, and still frozen. He thinks he might hear someone screaming his name in the distance, but he can’t even turn his head to look.

Saki hums, hand brushing along Leo’s waist. “Did I?” His thumb rubs Leo’s stomach, teasing the sensitive spots. “I seem to remember you enjoying yourself quite a bit.”

That’s...that’s true too, isn’t it? And Leo

knows

that just because you physically enjoy something doesn’t mean you wanted it, but a dark little flower of shame sprouts up anyway, nurtured on the diet Saki smeared inside him. He can feel heat start to blossom across his cheeks.“There’s that blush of yours,” Saki says, lifting Leo’s chin as if to get a better look. There’s a look of admiration in his eyes that Leo would have killed for once—has killed for. “I missed it, too. So did Kitsune." Leo stiffens at the name, at the memory of digging claws and fur rubbing against his scales. "She wants to help you, Leonardo. Make you understand again."

Leo can’t even speak now, can barely breathe. His head feels light with fear, his lips quivering slightly as Saki rubs a thumb along them, but he holds his body as obediently still as if he never left their bed.

“But you’re too thin,” Saki pinches his cheek, the motion so grandmotherly Leo wants to laugh and then throw up. “You’ve lost weight, Leonardo. What has the rat been feeding you?”

Has he lost weight? Leo supposes he has been picking at his food a little lately, stomach twisted with bad thoughts and the occasional bout of nerves that can come with family meals these days. He does get a little worried about eating too much, taking up too much space, disturbing the fragile equilibrium he has with his family.

Whatever the reason, Splinter doesn’t have anything to do with it, but Saki’s eyes darken anyway. “That filthy beast doesn’t know how to treat beautiful things.”

Don’t call me that,

Leo wants to scream. He’s not a thing and he—he’s not beautiful. He doesn’t

want

to be beautiful; not Saki’s idea of beauty, at least.

A knife whistles over Saki’s head. He ducks almost casually and continues to lean over Leo, pinning him with his body, with his eyes. Saki’s knee rubs between his thighs and Leo’s legs twitch feebly in an effort to close.

“Kitsune misses you,” Saki says. Leo stiffens at the name, the memory of digging claws and fur against his scales. “We both miss you.”

Leo swears he can feel Saki’s breath through the mask, warm and hungry. Or maybe it’s just a trick of imagination and memory, the same way the stone at his back isn’t actually giving under him like a mattress.

How much time has passed? Leo wonders distantly. They can’t have been standing for more than two or three minutes, but it feels like they’ve been together for centuries.

“They’re not good to you, Leonardo,” Saki says. “You don’t fit in with them anymore, if you ever did. There’s no going back.”

A lie, a lie, a lie. But Leo thinks of Donnie’s wide eyes, and just considering the possibility of Saki being right is terrifying enough to freeze his blood on its own.

“I can give you another chance, Leonardo,” Saki says. The hand on Leo’s waist comes up to rest on his shoulder. It’s warm, almost fatherly, a sickening contrast to the knee now carefully rubbing at his crotch. “Come home with me now and I will let you prove your loyalty. There will be people who love you again.”

My brothers love me. My father, my family, love me.

Leo grabs for the images of their faces, holds on to them against the building scream in his head. He can hear a frightened voice begging him to obey before his Master gets really mad, but he manages a small, stiff shake no. Saki’s eyes crinkle again, soft and indulgent.

He can hear a frightened voice begging him to obey before his Master gets really mad, but he manages a small, stiff head shake. Saki’s eyes crinkle again, soft and indulgent.

“Try to deny it all you want, child, I know exactly who you are and what you need.” He reaches up and pulls down his mask, exposing a face Leo knows better than his own. “Let me help you remember.”

Saki takes Leo’s chin in two fingers and tilts his head up. Leo watches from a distance as the man bends to kiss the turtle, their lips drawing closer, almost touching—

“Get the fuck away from him!”

Something hits Leo and sends him flying, palms skidding across the rooftop. The sound snaps back on, the screams and shouts of battle so loudly he suddenly wants to cover his ears. His fingers twitch as life returns to them, adrenaline finally showing up in time to burn the paralysis away.

Leo lurches awkwardly to his feet, but Mikey’s already standing, He’s put himself between Leo and Saki, nunchucks a deadly blur around his head.

“Get away from my brother, you creep,” he snarls. His voice is older and more vicious than Leo has ever heard it.

Over Mikey’s shoulder Leo can see Raph and Donnie standing back-to-back, fighting a crowd of Foot Soldiers. A significant chunk of the enemy is already sprawled on the ground and Leo feels a fierce burst of pride that his family has fought so well, coupled with shame for not being with them when he was needed most.

He looks back to Saki, standing up from where Mikey knocked him over. His gaze skips over Mikey–cold, dismissive–to land on Leo.

“Leonardo,” he says. Calm. Expectant.

Anger finally snaps through him, the world turning sharp and clear. Leo drops a sword, grabs a knife, and throws it, grabbing his sword again before the blade hits the ground. Saki jerks his head to the side, but it’s slow, caught off guard, and the blade slices across his cheek, reopening the old scar.

He lets out a pained snarl and the other Foot soldiers pause for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the sound of their indomitable leader being injured. It’s enough of an opportunity for Raph and Donnie to knock them down and sprint over to Mikey and Leo. Donnie throws a smoke bomb at Saki as he runs, leaving him to stagger and gasp.

“Come on!” Mikey yells, tugging Leo’s hand. He turns and they leap over the roof's edge, skittering down to the street below. Donnie flips a manhole open as he lands and then they’re landing in the safe, dark embrace of the sewers, dashing away down the tunnels.

Eventually they come crashing to a stop, panting greedily for air. Leo’s brothers are all scraped and bruised from the vicious battle, bloodied in a dozen different places. Leo…isn’t, and as they all turn to look at him, he’s suddenly much more aware of that fact.

“What the hell was that,” Raph snarls, and Leo knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“I–-” He swallows, takes a deep breath. His voice comes out harsh and raspy; it takes a minute for him to coax his voice back up from where it’s hiding. “I saw him. Saki, he…he was disguised as a Foot soldier again. It was the Shredder.”

Saying the name makes it all hit him like a gut punch–what happened tonight, what’s been done to him, what he’s done. Leo drops to his knees and throws up, vomit burning through his throat to vanish into the dark sewer water.

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