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bohemian-nights · 8 months

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What We May Mend (Chapter 2)

Word Count: ~8,817

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Laena Velaryon

Warnings⚠️: Mentions of previous attempted suicide

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them.

AN: Continuing to give Laena the happy ending she deserved 🐉

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Voices. It was the sound of voices that she came to. Cutting through the darkness that had engulfed her. She wondered why it was always so. It happened to her twice now. The last time that Laena could recall in the haze of her mind between wake and whatever was on the other side of this world hazy had been when she was but a girl. No older than her seventh name day.

She had never been clumsy. It was not in her nature to be. She was born for adventure, but on this particular adventure, she had slipped.

A storm had come and gone leaving quite the mess upon Hide Tides shores in its wake, but that did little to stop her from adventuring out onto the beach in hunt for seashells to add to her collection. However, it did lead to her slipping on an upturned tree during her exploration.

Falling head first onto the wood, she was knocked out stone cold. She was lucky that a pair of maids happened to see her fall while out admiring the men at work clearing the mess or else she might have awoken to a pack of seagulls pecking at her feet instead of a most anxious brother.

It was her mother and septa’s which she had heard first over the sound of waves breaking the bay from the open window letting in sea air. Hissing at Laenor in the way one would a babe that had pulled a little too tightly on one’s hair, to stop poking at her foot, his occupation of choice during the half day which had made up for her unexpected slumber. “Let your sister rest, Laenor.” He had refused to leave her bedside. He wished to be the first face for he had rather urgent news to impart upon her. Or at least he believed that she would find the sword, a real sword, not a wooden plaything, which their father had gifted him to be rather urgent news.

Wanting her to share in his excitement. There were their cousins, of course, Driftmark bursted to the seams with her uncle's brood of children. They could always be depended upon for an audience, but no matter how dear the cousin was, they were no match for a sister's company.

It was only when she had mumbled to him squinting at the blinding candlelight, her head reeling still, “Laenor if you do not stop poking at me then I shall never wake,” did her brother fling himself at her and cease his incessant attempts at waking her. She had never been in any real danger then, but seeing her come alive sent the castle in aflutter.

The sound of voices was always so pleasant to wake to. She supposed they had to be after darkness. They were a greeting. A light. Guiding her back to consciousness. Letting her know she was still among the living. Letting her know she was safe in the presence of those who loved her best. That she was alive. That she had not yet gone away from this world. Mayhaps that is the way she should view it now and then. Although the circumstances which she had awoken to this time were quite different from the last.

Neither mother’s sweet voice nor the raspy tone of her long departed Septa reached her ear. She did not feel Laenor poking at her feet and she most certainly did not smell the salty sea air that permeated throughout Driftmark or the cry of seagulls.

Her head pounded with something fierce. Aching more than when she had hit it against that tree trunk. In fact, her whole body ached. As if she had swam across the narrow sea without feast while being whacked with a hammer from her head to her abdomen.

A hazy configuration of shrouded images and muddled sounds flickering in and out. Pushing against the pain. Playing against the darkness behind her closed eyelids. Shouts rang through. I shall have your head if anything happens to her. Back to bed Baela. Now! The head is out. Hold it! The sound of a babe wailing. Heat that could only belong to a dragon. An assortment of memories she could recall with clarity that she would rather forget and others made in her stupor that she could not recall even making.

It was the sound of a maid's voice that cut through the darkness. Muffled at first. As if she were talking from the other side of a great field, but little by little it grew.

Her voice did not surprise Laena. It would have to be one of the maids that looked over her while she was ill for no one apart from them would be equipped to do so. Daemon would no doubt make a poor nurse nor would he keep to her bedside for very long while they waited for her to wake. Of course, it would be the maid. While the owner of said voice was not a shock, the words spoken from it were.

“He’s a bony babe, my prince.” The girl said rather cheerfully though her tone was of little importance.

He. That was important. Their babe had survived that terrible long night. Not only had he survived, he was a boy. A son. They had a son. She had hoped and prayed, by some miracle she had hoped that all would be right, but hope was all too often a fool’s errand and the Gods were more cruel than not.

They had been cruel to her through these years. She had prayed with each babe that she gave him that this one would be a boy, that she would give him a son, that he may look upon her with adoration for what she had given him, but they never answered her prayers until now. At long last she the God smiled upon her. She had given Daemon Targaryen his son and heir.

Laena could hear his little gurgles over the sound of the maid's northern lilt. Beth. That was her name. It had to be Beth. Bless her. She had always found the girl to be a mousy timid thing, but the girls, especially Rhaena who would often grow shy when not in the company of her family, adored her. They found her to be an excellent storyteller, companion, and safeguarder of whatever little secrets they kept from their parents.

“A healthy lad too. He'll make a fine lord.” The babe let out another gurgle as a hum could be heard in reply. Daemons hum. They couldn’t be far if she could hear it. A bit of a strain to be sure, they were not in the room with her, she did not think that they were that near, but they could not be so very far. Somewhere in their chambers. In their sitting room?

She fluttered her eyes but stopped herself from opening them. Mayhaps the stranger had never left her. There had been so much blood and she had felt so very ill. On the verge of insanity. Had she truly been spared by him? Mayhaps he was merely waiting. Playing another trick upon her before he enveloped her in eternal darkness.

“Will you not hold him Baela?” Baela. Baela was not with them? She was not there wherever there was. She had refused to hold the babe? It was she who had been most excited to meet the new babe when she had been told that her mother was once again great with child. She who had met every kick with a grin, kissed or talked to her mother's belly any chance she got after her father had told her that the baby could hear her, and refused to go to bed without saying good night to the babe.

She who tried to impart her own excitement onto her less-than-enthusiastic sister who was rather apprehensive of another dragonrider being added to the family, the odd one out twice over. She who had come up with at least a dozen names for the new babe, that girl who had relished in her role as eldest sister beginning anew, but now that girl would not even hold her brother?

“No,” Baela replied in a small defiant voice. Sounded rather muffled. As if she spoke into a piece of cloth, however, there was something about that little stubborn voice that seemed so close. Like she was sitting right there beside her.

Where Laena did not wish her eyes to see, she felt. Suddenly she became aware of a touch that was at her side. Warm and solid. Could her mind conjure up such a thing in this place? The realm between the living and the dead if that was where she was?

“Baela—” Daemon began abruptly. Exasperated as if he had already told whatever he was to say a thousand times and he probably had if he had gone so far as to chastise her, their eldest girl had inherited his stubbornness after all, but she could not let him go on. Not like this. Not knowing if what she heard was real or simply something she wished to be.

“Sweetling,” A croak reached Laena’s ears. The voice of an old woman. The same voice she heard in Vhagar field. The same voice when—she could not think of that now. Instead, she reached out a hand towards her daughter. Swiping the back of her arm. That warmth, the warmth of living breathing flesh, could the Stranger make that up? “Go hold your brother.”

She held her breath for a mere second. Waiting, but that little arm she felt clinging to her wasted no time in throwing itself around her neck along with its twin. He could not make that up. Laena decided to open her eyes to come face to face with silver locks. She closed them again. Inhaling her daughter in.

“Muna’s awake kepa!” Baela let out with a shout moving her little head toward the nursery. A shout which could no doubt be heard clear across the manse. The volume was not needed nonetheless no A streak of silver flew out of the corner of her dark eyes. Another weight joined that of her sister. Repeating her actions to throw herself at Laena’s unoccupied side. Clinging to her as if she might disappear before her eyes.

“Don’t crowd your mother girls.” The unmistakable sound of Daemon's heavy footsteps drew near as he chastised their girls. Letting out a sigh as great as them in exhaustion.

“They can crowd me for all they like Daemon. I do not care.” She spoke beaming into her girls' silver heads with a laugh. How could she care when she missed them as much as they had missed her? She had almost missed them and yet she was here. Almost missed this.

Had she missed anything? Surely some time had passed. How long had she been asleep? A day? Two? A fortnight? Gods above, a moon? It mattered not now. Not when the Stranger had spared her to keep her here with them.

Daemon finally came into view. He looked as exhausted as he sounded, but his pale face lit up when their eyes met. He had to take care of their girls, she reminded herself as she counted the lines upon his person. No, he had to take care of their children if the small bundle swaddled in ivory lined with spun gold that squirmed in his arms had anything to say about and he had certainly made his opinions known.

Oh, she had nearly forgotten what it was like to see a babe in his arms. A pleasant sight despite his patience clearly having worn thinner than those lines of age showing from three of them now all clamoring for his attention.

It was no easy task wrangling the two of them even with Beth's help and now they had the little one. Their son. The call of a mother took hold.

“Can I hold him?” It was an utterly silly question. After all, she had given birth to him even if she could not quite yet fully recall the details of it. He had come from her. The tiny bundle in her husband’s arms was undoubtedly theirs, hers, but she felt nervous somehow.

Daemon let a chuckle that rang around the room, but he did not make a joke of it. He swiftly moved over to hand her the babe as he nodded at Beth who scurried out of the room to alert the healer of her mistress's awakening. Perching himself on the wall nearest to her bed as he looked down at his family with the hint of a smile upon his pale face. Small enough for one to miss if they did not know him well enough.

Laena winced slightly as she sat herself up. She felt something churning in her belly, nerves she supposed, but she would not miss this. It is natural she tried telling herself. This nervousness. This birth was not like the others.

She had been handed each one of her babes the moment they arrived in this world. Not even allowing the midwives to clean them up as she reached for them. Why should they need to be presentable for her? They were her children. They were always presentable. There had been no waiting for the Gods to know how long to hold them. No apprehension. Just a need to have them in her arms. That need hadn’t left her despite everything as she took him in her arms. Her nerves washed away when she gazed down at him.

He was a small babe. Not quite as small as Rhaena, but he was quite a bit smaller than Baela had been, though he appeared to have the same set of lungs upon him as his eldest sister. Quite a fussy babe he was. Thankfully he quieted when she began to rock him. He looked peaceful. Content, like he had not a care in the world. Looking at him Laena could not help feeling content too. A beautiful little pink thing crowned with wisps of silver hair and he was hers.

“Have you named him?” She asked not daring to take her eyes off him now that he was in her hold as the back of her finger stroked down his cheek.

The naming had been discussed extensively within the last moon. Aemon, Aegon, Daemon, and much to Laena’s displeasure, Viserys were all suggested. Names of the female persuasion had not even been thought of. They as well as the girls had all been convinced that this child was a boy. She had even seen Baela praying for a boy so that he would not steal her dresses and bobbles as Rhaena did. It appeared that their suspicions and prayers had held true, and those good names could be put to use.

Had Daemon already chosen one of them for him? She would understand though she would be rather doleful at the prospect. She had not needed to fret over that though maybe there was something else which to fret over.

“No, kepa said we could not name him.” Baela supplied scrunching her nose up at her last word. No one could miss the distaste evident in her tone nor the fact that she had not once l even though she sat not two feet away from him. If certainly had not escaped Laena’s notice.

“Baela calls him the little beast.” Rhaena pipped up causing her sister to whip her head in her direction.

“That is not very nice Baela,” Laena said, shifting with a sigh to stifle a whimper from the tinge that was at her side from said movement to focus her attention on her eldest son. A frown stretched across her face. Marring the smooth sable skin with concern.

She had known what it was like to find a brother a nuisance, she had seen her fair share of sibling quarrels, but this was uncalled for. Her brother was just a babe. He had done nothing which was deserving of her hostility.

“I do not muna. She’s lying!”

“Yes, you do. I’m not lying, I've heard you say it under your breath when you think no one can hear you.”

“I have not!” She continued to insist. Her brown eyes narrowed at her sister in a show of intimidation, but Rhaena held her own. She met her glare with her chin held high. They would have no doubt gone on that way for an age, but all it took was one look from their father to cease their bickering with each other though it did little to ease the tension in the room.

“He has father's eyes,” Rhaena whispered into where she had re-planted herself at her left side. Settling back down to turn her attention to her brother. Her eyes crestfallen as she reached out a hand to stroke the downy skin of his cheek.

“He has his entire face.” Baela breathed under her breath. Her brows furrowed up with a look of irritation which caused a lump to form in Laena’s throat as she looked between her children. She sounded so very serious. Far too serious, and though she was in general awe of the babe, and doted upon him in spite of her earlier apprehension Rhaena looked far too doleful when she gazed at him. Perhaps one would write off their behavior as being that of sisters not yet used to the addition made to their party, but she knew what it could mean. Her poor lambs.

There could be no doubt he looked more like his father than either of his sisters. One need only look at him to see that. He was as pale as they had, but nearly all babes emerged from their mother's womb as pale as the moon from what Laena had seen. However, unlike when his sisters had come into this world, the skin on the back of his ears and the nail beds of his fingers did not hold any brown to indicate that his complexion would darken.

Rhaena was not wrong that he had his eyes. Hearing the fuss made over him the babe had opened his eyes a fraction to gaze up at his mother. Revealing a set of green orbs that belonged to that of his sire. To be sure they were a lighter shade of green than Daemon’s, but they would darken to match his with time. He was his father's very image. Down to the slope of his little nose and his chin. Oh, that was definitely Daemon’s.

Laena cleared her throat. From the corner of her eyes, she spied her husband, but he thankfully did not see her. His entire focus was on the sleeping babe she cradled in her arms. He did not notice anything else around him. Anything amiss he was blind to. He did not notice Baela’s anger or Rhaena’s sadness. He did not notice. That lump grew. Worry gripping her tight

Her son did look like his father and his sister did not and by the rules of their society he was his father's heir. Those designations and truth could not be helped, but she would not have her children treated unequally. Made to feel as if they were not Targaryen enough. To think they were any less than or any better than the others because they did not have the proper look, disposition, or sex. That tore families apart, it was tearing one family apart across the narrow sea, but by the Gods, Laena would not see the same happen to hers.

They were all her children. All their children. They had all been sired. They were just as Targaryen as the last. It did not matter if one did not have a dragon where the others did. If one had the right parts hanging between their legs and the others did not. There would be no differences and she would see that no differences be thrust upon them. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was quicker.

He had noticed. “Sons ought to look like their fathers and daughters ought to be as pretty as their mothers,” Daemon moved off from where he had perched himself to place a kiss into each of their girls' silver heads. Petting the back of their locs with fatherly affection. With each gentle stroke and at the beams upon each little brown face Laena felt her worry abate.

“Oh, then I pity him,” Her little brow unfurrowed and softened as she finally gazed down at the babe with some regard, but did not move to croon over him as Rhaena did. “For you are not very handsome kepa.” It was Daemon this time who let out a chuckle at their daughter's words as Laena bit her lip to contain her laughter. Baela looked less than pleased at her parents finding fun in what she had said. She had only told the truth. How could they laugh at the truth? With a frown returning to her brow she opened her mouth to protest when a knock sounded at the door.

The healer thought Laena. She thought wrong. It was a dark-haired man, a letter with the Velaryon seal, gripped in his hand. The letter she had strangely not given a thought to, letters always came from Driftmark and they had more than cause to now send one, but the man she gave exceedingly more than a thought to.

She had seen him before. That night. She had seen him that night, replaying the scene in her head. That man breathing into her husband's ear a smile upon his face that reached Daemon’s lips. She hadn’t liked the sight of him then and she could not say she was especially fond of the sight of him now. Not when he commanded Daemon's sole attention when their eyes met from across the room.

He made no move to order the man to leave. To tell them that they were not to be disturbed. That the only guests allowed were Beth and the maester. That he should hand him the letter and he should call him if he had need of him and dismiss him there and then, but he did not. No, he did none of that. Instead, her husband pulled away from them to go over to where he stood out of earshot.

“Father said that we have to pick out an egg for the baby.” Rhaena began in a soft voice to her mother. Not wishing to wake the babe that had fallen asleep. Her tone wistful, though shame as she was to say, Laena paid it half a mind. Her attention was on the other side of her chamber. With the two men whispering to each other. She made a point to nod her head feigning interest, more so for Baela’s sake who had taken to watching her every move and expression, rather than for her youngest daughter who was still entranced by her baby brother.

In Laena's defense, the topic had been settled. A dragon egg or several would surely be sent for. They’d make their pick of the lot, the egg would be placed in their son's cradle, in good time it would hatch, and rider and dragon could only be separated by death. That would be the natural end of it. The same had been done for Rhaena and Baela although the former's egg had turned to stone while the latter was on the eve of taking to the skies on her small dragon’s back..

It was more than both she and Daemon had. Admittedly the thought of Vhagar sent a small pain to her heart, but her room had been bathed in shadows for the span of half a minute thrice over since she had woken. No doubt Vhagar too had been alerted by their bond though her dragon was not worth wasting any thought on. At least not the thought that Laena gave to a certain dragonrider and the conversation she was not a party to. Not the thought she gave to the pair of men standing in the shadows of the room whispering to each other. What were they whispering about?

She should not give any thought to it. It was harmless enough. One would think that it was harmless enough. He was just relaying a message. Except she could not help recalling the last time he had been in her husband's company. How a smirk had formed on her husband's pale face as he grabbed the man’s arm to bring him nearer to him as he filled his cup with more Pentosi wine. Whispering something in his ear which brought color to his cheeks a spark to two pairs of green and amber eyes. A thumb made small circles into the fabric of the sleeve where he had placed as that spark was flamed.

They had not cared that they were at dinner. That their host could see them. That their children could see them. That Laena herself sat at his side. He did not care about proprietary and her own feelings. Her own embarrassment. Why should he? What was she to do? Nothing, she had done nothing apart from biting her tongue and willing away the tears that wished to spill. Trying and failing not to think too much of it. To not show that she thought anything of it.

It reminded her, she shuddered to say, it reminded her of Laenor and his friends. To be sure Daemon was not like Laenor. Not in that way. She knew that or at least not entirely in that way.

Laena had never had to force him to her bed. He was the one most days who dragged her into his bed like a man dying of thirst and she was the only tonic that could revive him. He never once turned her when she had wanted him.

He had never had difficulty finishing. He never kicked her from his bed in disgust when he finished. Even when he was under the spell of veracious spirits his ardor for her never abated, and praise the mother above, he had whispered another’s name when he spilled into her. Always Laena or my sweet girl. My pretty little wife. Or just wife. It was said with such want it might as well have been my beauty.

She knew she was not the only one. A pang that she had learned to live with. Laena had seen him with plenty a maid. She’d seen the looks they’d exchanged when one conquest or another waited upon him with a My Prince and a bat of their eyes. How they’d linger on him, gift her glares, looks of pity, or avert their gaze when they met hers. How the girls would come out from the magistrate’s study where Daemon spent his days flush-faced and with a smile on their lips and a saunter. How friendly he was with the new girls and they blushed under his heady stares, languishing caresses, and more than that.

Laena knew what sort of man her husband was. His appetites that she alone could seemingly not satisfy. She accepted that. There was nothing which she could do to stop him, but must he do so now? Here when she had just arisen out from the Strangers clutch? Where their son, his long desired heir that she had nearly paid for with her life to bring forth in this world, slept in her arms? Must he subject her to this humiliation too? After everything that she had done, he still could not put aside his lust for a mere hour or two.

“He said I could also find a new egg as well or claim a dragon when we arrive at Dragonstone.” Dragonstone. That was new. That commanded Laena’s undivided attention.

Home. Well, it may not be her home, but it was the ancestral seat of House Targaryen. It was Westeros and no matter how much Daemon said on the contrary, it was their home and he was taking them back.

It angered her. She knew that she should be overjoyed at the prospect, tis what she had longed for, but it angered her.

Ten years. For ten years she had implored him to see reason. Ten years she had tried to get him to see her need, pleaded with tears staining her cheeks, got down upon her knees with their babes in her arms, and begged him to take them back, yet he had refused her. After she had birthed Baela when she had only wanted to take her to see her parents so that they could meet their first grandchild, he refused. After Rhaena’s birth when she had been so weak all she had wanted was to be back on the rocky shores of her birth he said no to that comfort.

Those eight years when her womb could not quicken, when all she asked for was for the children to grow up among their family in the way that they had he ignored her. With this babe when she felt like something terrible might happen if they stayed in this foreign land among strangers, he dismissed her fear. He had refused every last desperate plea for her health, for her sanity, for their children, so that they may not exist as exiles on this lonely island he had swept them to all because he could whoever it was that he had run from, but now he wished to take them back.

Another knock sounded at the door. This time it was in fact Beth with the swarthy healer, his attendant, and a midwife who came to check on her. Laena had not much cared for the sight of either, a not so small part of her had hoped he had been dismissed after he suggested that she be cut open, but she supposed in the end that he had saved her life and delivered their babe safely.

At the arrival of the healer, Daemon finally dismissed the dark-haired servant. Scribbling something on but of parchment and handing it to him. A small balm for her anguish to be sure and a problem which to be remedied soon. She would not let this fester and languish for ten years all while she smiled prettily and turned her head acting oblivious. She could not live a life of secrets, half-truths, and shuttered doors clad in iron as she had before.

“Let us leave your mother girls for the healer to look after her.” Beth held out her hand for them to take. Attempting to tempt them away from their mothers' side with a promise of fresh sweets from the kitchen. When that had not worked Rhaena had been promised that she could put the babe down, and it was at the encouragement of Laena herself that Baela reluctantly agreed to leave her chambers

With Rhaena the last of the lot cradling her brother like her beloved egg gone out the teak doors of her chamber, the healer began his examination, and the Velaryon lady began a series of questions.

“How long have I been asleep for?” A fortnight was Daemon's reply. Only a mere fortnight. The lump loosened. It was not too terribly long of a time. She had not missed anything of real importance when it came to her babe that is. He had not treated her like a stranger. Crying out for Beth or Rhaena who clearly doted upon him like a living doll in her absence. Not recognizing his own mother when she held and kissed him. Content, she had made him content. It had been such a relief when he had fallen asleep in her arms. One she would not give up for anything in the known world.

“When will I be able to leave this bed?” With her children gone and the excitement dissipating of her waking from her inertia she has been able to see the full extent of her malaise and Laena was absolutely exhausted. She felt so very weak. If she were to attempt to climb out from her bed she was sure she would collapse before she made it to the door. Daemon would once more have to carry her back to bed and she would not be let out for another fortnight if that. Banned from all but the confines of this room.

Soon was the maesters reply. Soon could mean very many things and his refusal to look her in the eye was not at all reassuring. He must have felt the glare that she gave him because he scrambled to add, “If you are good and get some proper rest I can imagine you shall be recovered enough to venture for a walk around magistrates gardens by the end of the week.” If she were good. That was all she was, good. Good to her detriment. Laena did not like his condescension, but he had answered and a week was far better than soon.

Will I ever have more children? She so wished to ask, recalling all she had lost, but she was not quite prepared to hear the answer. A no my lady would be so final. It would be the most horrid news she would ever receive. So she buried the thought of that no in the distant reaches of her mind. What she had settled upon in its place was hardly what one would call amenable.

What possessed her to prattle on as she were to she did not know other than a festering feeling in her the pit belly that was on the brink of burst, but as cruel and improper as they were she did not regret uttering a single word.

“Have you sent for my mother? Did you tell my father I have birthed your heir? That he has a real grandson. That the Driftwood throne does not have to pass to a bastard born of—”

“I’m afraid that my wife is still quite tired and needs some rest.” Daemon cut her off before she could say anymore though the damage had already been done, but was the healer to care? Westeros was across the sea. Who was he to report what she had said to? He had never been nor was he likely to come across anyone who would care. She had not said anything that anyone with eyes could not see, all the same, a pale hand came forth to pet her curls as Daemon stared down the healer with a thin smile. Up and down. Stroke after stroke. Mimicking a brush though he did not even look at her. With each caress, Laena felt like she was an unruly child being scolded by their septa for saying something truly wretched.

The healer hesitated, but only for a moment. Her husband's smile at the man, while not cruel, was not entirely friendly either. It left no room for argument. The maester swallowed his words with a, of course my prince, promised to come back in by the morrow to check on her progress, had his attendants gather his things, deposited something on her writing desk, and slipped from the room with a slight bow.

Her husband ceased his petting to go to that desk. Picking up what the maester had left there among the scattered papers, her writings, idle correspondences long forgotten, and childish drawings. In his hands, she could plainly see it was a small dark vial. Its contents were definitely liquid. It was the only thing that could fit in it. Some concoction he had put together, but what exactly it was she was less sure of. She did not want to be sure because if it was what she thought it was—

Daemon uncorked its top and held it out to her, pulling her from her speculation with a call to action. “Drink.” It is milk of the poppy. She convinced herself as she eyed the bottle. Not bothering to hide her suspicions. He wants me to shut up and he does not care how. He just wishes it done. A crossroad where one would have to bend for He did not want an argument and she did not wish to be shut up.

Then and there while she still did not regret it, Laena supposed she should have chosen her words more carefully. Or at least waited until the healer had left. Discretion never hurt when it came to her husband.

Even in the best of times, Daemon was a broody creature. He was the embodiment of his house through and through. Any slight, a look, one wrong word could set him off and send him in a foul mood. She had said several wrong words and this past fortnight, these past moons had hardly been the best of times.

Still, regardless of her slight to his person, he could not expect her to subject herself to this. To make her drink that by her own hand for Gods sake. “I will not—-”

“Drink it Laena.” His words were clipped. Ground out with gritted teeth His eyes had grown cold. His face was pure marble. So much so that Laena thought if she reached out a hand to touch it she would find no life there. For a moment she wondered if he would pry her lips open and force the liquid down her throat if she refused his demand once more. She did not wish to find out if he would. She doubted that the odds would be in her favor.

Laena took the vial from his outstretched hands and swallowed it in one gulp without another complaint. The sweet taste stuck to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. A taste which she was familiar with and did not entirely mind. Dreamwine. It was dreamwine thankfully and not milk of the poppy. It would take a little longer to dull her senses, but once she had fallen asleep she would have no choice, but to get some proper rest. Though it did help to blanket her mind in a cloud and loosen her tongue all the same.

“Well, you can not doubt that he is yours, my prince.” He winced. His eyes blazed and the marble cracked. Like she had taken Dark Sister from where it rested by his chair in the sitting room and stabbed him with it. The blade pierced his heart as he had done to her. Leaving him to succumb to his wounds. As if she had been the one who caused him so much misery since the day they wed.

Mayhaps she had hurt him. She had certainly not made him happy, but she had not been the one to court him either. She had not asked for his hand. She did not impregnate herself

nor ask him for their children though they were welcomed. Never dragged him across the Narrow Sea to live a half-life away from everyone who cared for them.

“Do not ever let me hear you utter those words from your lips again. Especially not in front of our children. Do you understand me?” He growled. A hand at his side balled into a fist and then relaxed over and over as she roared with laughter. Perhaps it was unwise to keep provoking the Rogue Prince as such, but the provocation was not wholly her own. It was born part dreamwine, part her own sorrow, but a larger part the ridiculousness of the situation they found themselves in. Most of all at his ire. “I have never doubted your fidelity Laena. Not once.”

Even she knew that. If he had ever thought her unfaithful, if he had ever truly thought that Baela and Rhaena were not born of his seed, that they were sired by some faceless common man, one of the magistrates many guests, or one of her cousins who had done the courtesy of paying them a visit or two over the years no doubt at her mother's behest, he would have drowned them and her in the sea before she could name them. A proper Velaryon funeral he would say to himself. No doubt toasting his efficiency. He would never claim bastard blood nor would he have the stench of it wear his name.

Of course what he would tell the great Sea Snake and his formidable Targaryen wife would be a different tale. She was in the sea clutching the babe to her chest before I could stop her. Whether they would believe it or not would be the question. How could they believe that their vivacious daughter would do such a thing to herself and her child, though they had not been there when she tried to do the very same thing a fortnight past?

“Your daughter delivered me my heir after almost commanding Vhagar to light herself and my son on fire.” She wondered if he had put that in his letter. He had saved her, he would write that if he had written at all. He had to save her. He’d let them know that he had saved her from herself even if in truth he had driven her to it.

“No, you have not, not in the way I have doubted yours.” Secrets the secrets he kept or rather did a poor job keeping. The whispers. The maids. That servant. Ten years of treating her as if she had never been enough. It would drive anyone mad and Laena was not immune to that madness no matter how pretty smiles she wore.

He had started opening his mouth to speak some pretty little fib, but she would not hear it. “I would rather not hear your excuses, Daemon. Or your apologies.” He shut his mouth with a huff. Nodding his head, his gaze turned away from her.

She would rather not know, not hear whatever lie he would conjure up, or hear some half-hearted attempt at penitence. It was best that way. Laena could pretend that way. On this at least she wished to pretend he had not disrespected her. That he had kept to his vows despite her inadequacies.

Besides, if he told her the truth they both knew, he would have no choice but to apologize and she knew what a farce it would be. Laena knew that he would not mean it. That he would do it all again if he were given the chance. That may very well do it again with the Gods knew who. With someone who was not just a stranger whom he could slack his lust upon. That made the whole venture pointless. She was too tired for pointlessness. Too tired for anything really, but above all she was too tired to be lied to.

He seemed to realize it was pointless too for he knelt by her bedside. The fire in his eyes was gone as he nuzzled his head into her arm before taking it and raining kisses into the bronze skin. Out of habit, she began threading her fingers through the white strands of his mane. He leaned into her touch. Laena supposed she should not comfort him so, but she could not help it when he looked like a little boy who had been told that his most prized beast had fallen and broken his leg and he shot the poor thing to put him out of his misery. “I have loved you. Above everyone I have loved you Laena.”

Mayhaps he had. In his own way. As much as a man like him could. Mayhaps he did love her, more than anyone was a charitable exaggeration for that claim belonged to someone half around the world. Laena was painfully aware of her limitations when it came to her husband, but more than his first wife surely. For if he found her to be truly detestable he would’ve done away with her as he had the Lady Rhea Royce, but that was still not enough. His love was not enough when it did this to her.

Bitter. She was bitter and had become a mad spiteful woman and she had not even realized it til now. How much everything boiled over until all that was left was bitterness, heartache, and her own misery. That is what his love had done to her.

“Your love is a strange thing husband.” The sound of their son's cries from the nursery broke through before she could say more or he would defend himself.

A hungry cry, for he would not stop regardless of how Beth tried to soothe him with her rocking sweet lullabies. Not until she called for the wetnurse. Soon enough, no sound apart from suckling and placid coos could be heard. His wetnurse had soothed him, and provided him with the nourishment he so needed, but Laena wanted to go to him.

She was his mother. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to feed him. Needed to, but she could do little more than hold him in her arms with the help of Daemon and that would be of no help to a hungry babe. Even if it was, she was so very tired. She would need to be held and comforted just as much as he would. Poor her. Poor babe. Their poor—

Laena reached out for him then. Grabbing her husband's arm with a grip that was feebler than she liked to catch his attention, though there hadn't been a need, for it had already turned to her when their son's cries had ceased. Daemon wasted no time enveloping her frail brown hand in his much larger much rougher pale one. His green eyes widened as he waited for her

Whatever animosity they held for each other faded with the sound of their babe. He was always good for that. When the children were small and depended upon them she could rely upon him in turn. They were at their best here. He doted upon her and them for that brief spell. If only it was always like that though she pushed that thought away to focus on this.

“Aemon.” He looked at her as if she had grown two heads and spoke in tongues at her murmur. Not having the faintest idea what she was rambling on about. It was not often that one, even his wife of ten long years, stumped the great Prince Daemon Targaryen.

She laughed at that confused look. She could not help it. The scrunch upon his brow in a way reminded her of Baela. Her giggle caused only him to. It was the dreamwine. It had to be the dreamwine. She should be serious, this was a serious discussion, but she felt so loopy where she had not a minute ago. Fighting to keep her eyes open that desperately wanted to shut and drift off into the land of sweet dreams, but the effort was worth it.

“I want to name our son Aemon Daemon.” She repeated slowly. Every word was a strain. The dreamwine making its way through her. She was sure she sounded as if she had drunk a whole bottle of Dornish red, but Laena would not rest, no matter how much she needed it until he agreed to it. God forbid he named the babe after his brother or they added another Aegon onto their family tree. That wouldn’t do.

“After my grandsire.” She would have suggested Baelon, but they had already named Baela after him. Laena supposed Daemon was also suitable, but even her husband would not be so vain as to try and name their son after himself.

Corlys or Laenor were other suitable options, but he would never agree to either. They were too Velaryon and Laena did concede that her children were Targaryen’s through and through despite her birthing them. She herself was half so no matter how Velaryon she looked and felt. It was only fitting they carry the names of their house. She would not be that cruel to deny him or them that.

Laena had never met her grandfather. He had died before she had come to be, but everyone who knew him had had nothing but a kind word, including her husband, to say about him. Why not name the babe in his honor? Aemon was as Targaryen as they came, no one of this generation had the name, and it would please her mother to hear it.

A smile, no, a grin spread across her husband's face. The corners of his eyes crinkled up as he beamed at her. It was a long time since she had managed to pull that from him. “Aemon,” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, whispering the name into her skin. A promise sealed with a kiss. The sound of their son's name played over in Laena’s head. Aemon. Aemon Targaryen. It suited him.

Daemon placed a kiss on the back of her hand. As gentle as a “Get some rest sweet girl.” It occurred to her hearing that the dreamwine was more for their sake than his. You will see them grow old and have children of their own. The memory came back to her like a blow to the side of her head. Rest, she needed rest. She did not need to fight it. For their sake, she would listen. She had no choice but to listen. They needed her, but she had one last question to ask.

“What was in that letter?” Curiosity. She knew why she had asked the question. Her curiosity. She did not have to know at that exact moment. After all, it was just a letter from her parents congratulating them. Mayhaps writing to invite them home, but her pride making up for all the times she put it aside. The last slips of her consciousness wanted to know.

All the color that had been brought by the naming of their son had been drained from her husband's face at her question. An overreaction by her estimation considering who it came from. “Laena—”

“I saw it was from Driftmark. I would like to know what it said, husband.” Her voice was laced with honey as she brought a hand up to caress his jaw. Trying to coax an answer from with a little trick she had picked up.

It was such a simple thing. Never mind who carried it, it was from her family. It was nothing pertaining to him. Nothing that could cause her distress. Surely he could tell her what was in it. Surely he could give her that. It was simple, but a simple thing is never a simple thing.

She had thought he would tell her then that he might’ve wanted to surprise her with their going home. She was no longer upset that he had made the decision without her, or that Rhaena had been the one to tell him and not he, nor was Laena frightened of whatever forces they may face once they arrived back. Home was home and she had waited so long to be back among the familiar.

He had no choice but to see the uselessness of waiting now if that was what his wariness was about. Laena thought he would, but instead, he once more kissed the back of her hand, cupped her cheek, gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes, and went to stroking her curls as he lulled her to sleep with his touch.

An age went by. Her eyes had closed at some point. Fighting to keep them open was a losing battle irrespective of the expression upon Daemon's face and the gloom that had settled over their chambers, but then he had given her as she asked and she almost wished she hadn't asked for it no matter how much it would not stop what had already happened. Laena would turn back time to do that. Something outside every mortal's power and the Gods once they had been set in motion.

It was a whisper. A faint whisper. One could miss it if they had not been “Your brother is dead Laena.” Daemon must have hoped that she had already departed for the land of dreams as he breathed those dark words into the crown of her curls with one last kiss. Why else would he tell her the truth and infect her with nightmares and terrors beyond her wildest imagination?

No lies. She wanted no lies. Simply the truth. He had given her what she asked for at long last, but she had forgotten that the truth was just as cruel as a lie.

Ao3 Link:

#laena velaryon #daemon targaryen #laena x daemon #daemon x laena #daemon targaryen x laena velaryon #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #hotd

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lovelyflora21 · 1 year

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A/N:

Hello! I have returned with yet another angsty story teehee.

This was inspired by a story/chat I had with the Aemond AI on Beta Character.

Please do keep in mind that English is not my mother tongue and do accept my sincerest apology if Aemond is too ooc, I tried my best I swear.

Also, reblogs, comments, likes are greatly appreciated! I'm also taking in requests 💖

Without further ado, enjoy!

----

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

T.W! graphic mention of death, abuse and suicide. 18+ work.

(This is a triggering work, read at your own discretion!)

Aemond had lost her. His one true light. His love of life. His will and reason to live.

And yet he cannot bear ending it all.

They had laid her to rest, a year ago. Her final resting place, within the crypts below the Red Keep.

Aemond frequented the crypts, always leaving flowers on the tomb of his dearest beloved wife. White lilies and jasmine, her favorites.

Lady Y/N's demise was quick and painless, or so they told Aemond. Mayhaps a way to offer comfort and solace for the (ever) grieving One-Eyed Targaryen prince...?

And yet...

When Aemond saw her recovered body, he broke down into tears before her mangled lifeless corpse; his mother held him close as he did so. A warrior, turned into a weeping, helpless boy.

Her throat nearly sliced into two and decapitated, from how deep the blade had tore through her skin and flesh. There were bruises littering her arms and body.

There was nothing quick, nothing painless of her death! Aemond's mind screeched. The evidence clearly present before the eyes of all.

Surely they were not blind...

---

Her burials had been beautiful, serene...

Just like her.

A stark contrast to that of her end.

Aemond Targaryen, swore he would never love another. That he will bring his love for her to the grave. That her death shall haunt him for the remainder of his living days.

And true to his oath, she haunts him.

Every night, Aemond would pick up the scent of his late paramour. The scent of white lilies and jasmine, wafting in the air he breathed in.

'Twas not long before he would began seeing hazy figures from the corner of his eye.

And then...there she stood. In white. Her hair flowed freely, framing her face. She looked ethereal. Otherworldly.

She offered him a hand. And as he took it, Aemond was reminded of everything. Of his love for her. Her love for him. Of her devotion.

And by the time Aemond came back to his senses, the two lovers now stood on the ledge of the open window.

Come with me. Be with me for all eternity, my love. A leap is all it takes...

Whispered she.

And with one last kiss, she returned.

With one last embrace, Aemond is finally home.

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x female reader #florawrites #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd angst #aemond targaryen angst

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roses-and-grimoires · 8 months

Text

Prompt #13: Check

Characters: Idristan, Talan @zoetic-tome

"This way, mon amour."

Idristan flashes the redhead an encouraging smile as he leads the way through the Jeweled Crozier. Over the past few days, he had become more and more concerned that the other man had largely stopped talking and generally didn't seem to be their usual enthusiastic self. So he had decided to drag him along as he took care of some errands in Ishgard, and hope that the chilly, crisp air, the exercise, and perhaps the gentle enticement of visiting one of the better Ishgardian bakeries might coax his spouse out of his shell.

So far, the trip had not quite done that. But he liked to think that it had helped a little, that there might even be a hint of a small smile on his face.

Or maybe he was being too optimistic. But he was certainly trying, at least.

"What do you think, love?" he asks as they pause at one of the street stalls. Gold and silver glittered, even in the dim light of the cloudy afternoon, accented by precious and semi-precious stones. He's gesturing towards a pair of earrings in which rubies glittered like small drops of blood. "They're the right color to match your hair."

Yet as he speaks, he becomes aware that they are not the only one who had taken up an interest in the merchant's stall. Except, he quickly realized, the nearby couple were looking at him and Talan, rather than the actual wares.

"Look at the ears on that one," the woman murmurs to her paramour, in a tone low enough to not be outright rude... but definitely not low enough to not actually be heard.

"Has to be some sort of half-breed," the man says back in the same tone, his nose turning upwards in the air as if he had smelled something rotten.

At his side, he feels Talan stiffen. It is not a remark that they are unused to, by any means, but this time it had seemed to cut deeper than usual. A fact that causes the Ishgardian at his side to bristle with anger. Under other circumstances, he might have been prepared to let the matter go, to shrug it off his shoulders like running water.

But not today.

"I would suggest you watch your mouth, sir," he declares curtly as he rounds on the couple. His chin juts upwards as he looks down at the pair, though the effect is perhaps a touch underscored by the man being a touch taller than him. The white-haired man did not seem to be intimidated by this though, nor the sneer that he was being given in return.

"You're a man of fine breeding," the man notes, taking in Idristan's features and clothes, as well as the accent that he bore. "One would think that someone like you would have better taste." He wrinkles nose as his gaze flicks briefly over towards Talan, then back.

"Mayhaps you did not hear me the first time." There is a growl in his words, and anger blazing in his jade eyes. "I said that you should keep your very unwanted and idiotic opinions to yourself. Furthermore, I believe you owe my companion an apology."

The man stares at the pair for a moment. Then he lets out a bark of laughter. "And why in the Fury's name would I ever offer that to you?"

"Because otherwise," Idristan continues. "Then I shall be forced to demand one from you." His hand drops to rest on the hilt of the blade that he openly carried. "Since you have insulted my husband's honor." His lips curve into a mocking smirk. "Unless you are too much of a coward to back up your words..."

The man's eyes narrow at this. One can practically see the calculations whirring in his head as he debates whether he can afford to walk away from such a challenge and still save face.

Evidently, the answer is no, for he says through gritted teeth: "Swords, then. Name your time and place."

"Tomorrow at dusk. Outside of Camp Dragonhead." Better to not duel in the middle of the city itself. He then turns towards Talan, and flashes him a smile as he goes to lock arms with him. "Come along, mon amour. I believe I smell those pastries we were after."

Without a backwards glance, as if the other man was beneath the both of them, he leads them off, pointedly ignoring the looks of those who had witnessed the exchange. Word would get around, of course, and tomorrow they would all find out whether he was dealing with as big of a coward as he thought.

Regardless of whether they showed up or not though, the threat of one duel seemed to have silenced anyone who might have been tempted to run their own mouths. And that, he would take.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #writings #idristan agache #talan/talia redwing

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detectivejigsawpines · 1 year

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Not What He Seemeth

Ah, summer break, when days are long and kind, When leisurely relaxing be thy way. Unless, alas, thy family name be Pines, And Gravity Falls the place to spend thy day. So learned the Myst’ry Twins: Dipper the bold, E’er with vivacious Mabel by his side, As strange and fright’ning mysteries they unfold, While in the Myst’ry Shacke they do abide. But now a greater puzzle they must field: Their Grunkle Stan, be friend or villain he? A strange machine from them he hath concealed, Which might of world-destructive power be. And in a plot which one might see in dreams, They learn their grunkle is not what he seems.

(Apologies if this is not quite in the proper vein of Shakespeare, or doesn't fit exactly with his writing style. Iambic pentameter and poetry are hard, okay? Give me a break.)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

STAN PINES, a conman

DIPPER PINES, his nephew

MABEL PINES, his niece

SOOS RAMIREZ, his handyman

AGENT POWERS, an FBI agent

LAZY SUSAN, a restaurant proprietress

GOMPERS, a goat

COMPUTER, a computer

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

VARIOUS TOWNSFOLK, FBI AGENTS, SUPERNATURAL CREATURES

****

ACT V

The basement of Ye Olde Mystery Shacke, near a strange machine.

DIPPER, MABEL and SOOS are in the process of shutting down the machine.

DIPPER: Alas, what fools our family hath been!

That all the summer long-nay, in the case

Of our most noble comrade Soos, ten years-

We did not see the serpent in our midst!

‘Tis no excuse we knew our Grunkle Stan,

If Stan he truly be, to be a rogue.

All summer long, we’ve lived beneath his roof,

Eaten with him, and talked with him, and e’en

Labored for him, but never did we see

That everything he told us was a lie!

Not only did he know that Grav’ty Falls

Hath been, and is, and will be, should we stop

This strange device in time, a haven for

All manner of strange creatures, great and small,

But now we learn-oh horrors!-that uncle

We have none! That the man we thought we knew

Is but a counterfeit, with IDs false!

That in his basement secret, he doth hold

The journals-aye, the journals I hath oft

Sought answers for, sought answers of, and aye,

Hath sought! That in his basement secret, he

Doth hold this rude mechanical device

Which o’er us looms and glows with dreadful light!

That in these journals secret, therein lies

A message-nay, a warning, to the eyes

Of those who look with aid of blackened light-

That this machine, if operational

Is fully rendered, could with all its pow’r

Reach out and tear our universe apart!

They look at the clock, which reads one minute and thirty seconds remaining.

SOOS: Beware! Tis the final countdown, as in songs past they have so discussed!

DIPPER: The agents of the FBI were right!

We have but paltry seconds left to us

Until the clock the number zero reach!

Quickly, dear sister and dear friend, to work!

They turn keys; a device appears, revealing a large red button.

DIPPER: Anon, the shutdown switch! This all ends now-!

Before he can press the button, enter STAN.

STAN: Touch not that button!

Long moment, in which they regard each other.

STAN [aside]: Oh, what to do? I have not travailed against capture, against locks and chains and doors, against agents of the FBI, against the laws of gravity and time itself, only now, when my goal is in my grasp, to have it stymied-and no less by those I hold most dear! What shall I say to turn accusing glares to familial-aye, familial, e’re may I deny such connection with my loyal handyman-love? How might I repair bonds of trust, once broken? Alas, were I to know that, mayhaps I would ne’er have been in this position.

[To DIPPER] Good nephew, away!

DIPPER keeps his hand raised over shutdown button.

STAN: Prithee, kill not the countdown! In this I beseech thy trust!

DIPPER: Thy trust? Thou darest speak to me of trust?

Forsooth, thy audacity knows no bounds!

And were thou not the thief who in the night

Did several times abscond with toxic waste?

Art not thine lips the ones which time and time

Again hath spoken falsehoods to our ears?

Not once, not twice, but all the summer’s day

For all the days of summer that have passed?

Away, thou fiend, thou agèd, crafty rogue!

Thy self to me is naught but counterfeit!

STAN [aside]: My worst fears confirmed! I curse my cowardice, that I did not confess my sins when I had the chance!

[To DIPPER] Harken, lad! I see that to unknowing eyes, to unknowing ears, to unknowing hearts, my works might seem but mad, but there is method to’t-a method which requireth life to remain in yon machine! If thou wilt listen, I can yet explain-

The device on his wrist begins to make noise; the ground begins to shake.

STAN: Alas! Alas! Prepare, good children! Brace yourselves!

Everyone begins to rise into the air. Across Gravity Falls, others also rise.

AGENT POWERS: What sorcery is this?! For we do rise!

Our pursuit of the villain Stanford Pines

Arrested by an unexpected flight

Like great Apollo’s chariot towards the sun!

LAZY SUSAN: Egad! I fly!

BUD GLEEFUL: My merchandise! I may have lost my son,

But I shall not lose thee as well!

GOMPERS: Maaaaaaa!!!!

COMPUTER: Harken, O master: T and minus thirty seconds.

STAN, DIPPER and SOOS are thrown to different ends of the room; only MABEL remains, hooked to the shutdown button by a wire wrapped around her foot.

MABEL: Dipper!

DIPPER: Fly swiftly, Mabel! Thou must shut it down!

MABEL begins making her way to the shutdown button; STAN sees and launches himself towards her.

STAN: Nay! Good Mabel, sweet Mabel, heed my warning! Go no further!

Is suddenly tackled to the side by SOOS .

STAN: What is this treachery, knave?! Orders I did give you previous, and I remember not changing them!

SOOS: Apologies, dear Master Pines-if your name be not Smith or Jones or e’en Pippinpaddleopsicopolis-but as dear as thou have been to me, a higher mission hath appeared: preserve the life and safety of these children, as dear to me as the ruddy drops of my own heart!

STAN: Thou fool, release me!

DIPPER joins SOOS in trying to subdue STAN.

DIPPER: Dear sister mine, depress the button red!

Stop this machine, e’re it destroy us all!

S TAN: Depress it not! I pray thee, touch it not! Trust in me!

MABEL [aside]: Was ever girl in this way beseeched?

Was ever girl in this way so trapped?

Between my brother and my grunkle’s words

I know not whose is the trustworthy tongue!

[To STAN] My Grunkle Stan-oh fie, for I know not

If even thou my grunkle truly be!

I weep, for though my heart beseecheth me

To see thee as no villain, as no fiend,

But as the cranky, weird, and gross old man

Whom I do love so dearly-yet I find-

STAN: Then hark, and heed! Recall thou in the morn, when e’er my heart did fail me, I wished to speak with thee and thy brother on matter of great import?

Another shock rises from the portal, throwing DIPPER, STAN and SOOS against the wall. MABEL raises her fist over the button.

STAN: I wished to say that afore the day is done, many words and accusations wilt thou hear upon my name-and some, alas, are true. But I give my solemn vow upon my soul, that all that I do, that all that I hold dear, more dear than life, more dear than hearth and home, more dear than even all my gold-all are in the name of Pines!

DIPPER: Beware, dear Mabel! Honeyed are his words,

But think afore thou act! ‘Tis possible

The graying rogue doth perchance lie again!

His vile, frightful metal mechanism

Which stands before us yet could all destroy

In the known universe! Thus it is wise

To listen to the sageness of thine head!

STAN: Behold mine eyes, good niece! Yea, mine eyes, which stories tell are windows to the soul, revealing all within the owner’s heart! And ask thyself: for all my faults, for all my schemes, for all my greed-thinkest thou truly me to be a villain?!

DIPPER: He lies, my sister! Thou must end this NOW!

STAN: Mabel, I beg thee!

COMPUTER: Harken, O master: Ten. Nine.

Mabel lowers hand over the button-and hesitates.

MABEL [aside]: O perilous dilemma of the heart!

O perilous dilemma of the hand!

My brother, ever learnèd, often prov’th

His greater knowledge when it comes to wits

And books, and games, and mechanisms great

Which, studying, would bore me unto tears.

He dangerous this strange machine hath named.

Shut down, he hath declared its wisest fate.

And time and time again I’ve heeded not

His earnest words, and been kidnapped by gnomes

Or unto hateful Gideon been enslaved

Or even-horror!-risked dear Dipper’s life

By cruel and triangular demon hand.

And yet, on other hand, my Grunkle Stan

Doth humbly beg that I will stay my hand.

The man who on occasion past proclaimed

With mocking scorn his strong distaste for “please”

And who preferred to harshened orders bark.

But now, he begs, and bares his withered heart

With eyes bearing the sadness of the world,

Our photograph resides upon his desk,

And he from danger hath protected us.

From zombie, dinosaur, and Gideon

His guardianship hath cast a shelter oft.

Alas, poor Dipper, but I must proclaim

For all his faults, a villain he is not.

[To STAN] Dear Grunkle Stan?

Raises hands away from shutdown button.

MABEL: I trust you with my life.

DIPPER: This cannot be! O foolish sister mine,

Art thou gone mad?! Seest thou not thy folly?!

For when the clock strikes zero, we shalt-

COMPUTER: Harken, O master: One.

Flash of white light fills the room; all scream. DIPPER: NO-!

Light engulfs Gravity Falls, then dies. Objects all over town fall to ground, as do STAN and family. The machine glows in center with strange blue light, and suddenly MYSTERIOUS FIGURE steps through it, stops to pick up Journal 1.

DIPPER: Do I but dream? What is this that I see?

An apparition, clothèd all in black,

With face and form concealed by a mask,

Hath entered in the room! Is it a ghost?

Speak to us, apparition! Who art thou?

STAN: Be still, my heart! For I do know this form, e’en as the face is hidden from our view! It is no ghost, no demon, nay, not e’en a stranger-but that Author of the journals thou hast sought.

And more than that-

MYSTERIOUS STRANGER removes facial covering, revealing a face identical to STAN.

STAN: -he is my brother.

DIPPER, MABEL and SOOS are shocked.

MABEL: Be this the moment oft portrayed in film

Where one of us, so shocked by strange events,

Doth thus collapse into a mighty swoon

For purposes of comedic effect?

SOOS: Fear not, dear hambone: comedy I know.

On this I will not fail you. Down I go!

He faints .

Exeunt.

****

I would write a final sonnet for the final flashback scene, but I'm tired. Maybe I'll write it later.

#gravity falls #william shakespeare #not what he seems #parody #kind of #dipper pines #mabel pines #soos ramirez #stan pines #my humble attempt at emulating the immortal bard #in part inspired by William Shakespeare's Star Wars

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mercysought · 1 year

Text

REPOST AND LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE (focusing on Elgar'nan and Mythal):

that unwanted animal by the amazing devil

Oh, and you rip my ribcage open and devour what's truly yours / And our screaming joins in unison, I cry out to the Lord / 'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough / To God, I imagine it all starts to sound like applause.

blood in the wine by aurora

I was given a heart / Before I was given a mind / A thirst for pleasure and war / A hunger we keep inside / We fell from sky with grace / And life gave us a sweeter taste / You can drink, you can feast / There's beauty in your beast

the horror and the wild by the amazing devil

I steal the hours and turn the night into day / Day by day oh lord three things I pray / That I might understand as best as I can / How bold I was, could be - will be - still am, by God still am / Fret not dear heart, let not them hear / The mutterings of all your fears, the fluttering of all your wings / Welcome to the storm, I am thunder / Welcome to my table, bring your hunger.

sacrifices must be made by dan bull

No one wants to show their hands / For fear of knowing that we've only laid out hopeless plans / Life's a thankless slow advance / And no advantage shall suffice / To satisfy chance's appetite requires sacrifice.

eat your young by hozier

I'm starving, darling / Let me put my lips to something / Let me wrap my teeth around the world / Start carving, darling / I wanna smell the dinner cooking I wanna feel the edges start to burn

artemis by aurora

What will you do when she drinks the sea? / Drown her in sorrow or let her be free? / When she's upset, all of her heart is cold / What will you do when she eats the moon? / Make her return it or give her a spoon? / When she is full, all of her heart is warm

& LIST 6 QUOTES THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

"THEN TELL ME WHAT JUSTICE IS! TO FORGIVE THE ONE WHO MURDERED YOUR BELOVED FRIEND? THAT CERTAINLY WOULD BE VIRTUOUS! IT’S BEAUTIFUL! BLINDINGLY BEAUTIFUL! BUT IS JUSTICE A VIRTUE?! NO! TO LIVE IN PEACE WITHOUT AVENGING THE DEAD IS VICE!" — bleach by Tite Kubo

"He didn’t even look angry; he looked like an ending given human form." — harrow the ninth by tamsyn muir

"You have referred to yourself and your fellow mortals as our children. You are not our children. You are… a bad first draft." — asmodeus (brendan lee mulligan) in fire and ruin (exandria unlimited: calamity)

"what is it that you contain? the dead. time. light patterns of millennia opening in your gut. every minute, in each of you, a few million potassium atoms succumb to radioactive decay. the energy that powers these tiny atomic events has been locked inside potassium atoms ever since a star-sized bomb exploded nothing into being. potassium, like uranium and radium, is a long-lived radioactive nuclear waste of the supernova bang that accounts for you. your first parent was a star." — weight: the myth of atlas and heracles by jeanette winterson

"Eu não vejo o copo meio cheio, eu vejo o mar." — carolina deslandes “I don’t see the glass half full, I see the sea.”

"preserve the past, poison the present." — the existential horror of david cronenberg’s camera by acolytes of horror

tagged by . @thomasrainier (thank you ✨) tagging. @valheri @prvtocol @weptfreedom @soveraign (Cersei? mayhaps?) @harringtontm

#elgar'nan ( aesthetic )#mythal ( aesthetic )#( uh there's a lot of hunger and consuming imagery here )#( it's only that lmao )

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macaroki · 2 years

Text

" shall the death do us part, my dove "

or, in another word, SUGAWARA keep living his life, for you.

trigger warning : mention of shooting, sort of ptsd stuff [ not beta'd ]

it always fascinate you how sugawara dealing with the kids in the kindergarden he works for. those delicate hand moving along as he teach alphabets, or the way his lips pursuing as he heard those kids trying to crack a joke is just heavenly sight to see.

you should've not listened to him the other day, " don't have to come today for lunch, love " and for god sake, you didn't. how can you know, that everything would turn out like that?

it suppose to be another ordinary day, where your lover would pick you up from your workplace on the evening, take out dinner or eat whatever he had in his mind, or/and simply just enjoying the view at the beach nearby for a while.

it hurts to remember all the good time, while he was laying there, for no one knew whatever things he had in his mind. for only you waiting for him just, to talk, about anything, really. the weather, the shitty waiter at the restaurant you both promised won't go there again, or the dentist that have big-sarcasm jokes- anything really.

" i'm here if you want to talk " left your lips a little bit too much by now. yet he's still mindlessly gazing on the white ceiling above, his cheeks stained with tears. you really want to hold him, truly, but you're afraid that he'll flinched away from your touch. it hurts you the fact that even the simplest noise can startle him already.

you thought leaving him alone is maybe a good idea, at least - for now. as you pushed the chair and grabbing your phone, you can heard the low voice of him saying " it was my fault, "

it was barely a whisper, feels like it gonna get carried away by the wind if you didn't hear closely. but you know better than leaving him with his thought, didn't you?

" it's not, " you hold his hand slowly, bringing it up close to your lips, barely even touch but it's still there. the soft kisses that bring him down more tears. " it's never been your fault that the little girl were being targeted, you're just happen to be there, "

" maybe if i just take the shot, the girl could've live, " tears rolling down on your cheek as those word leaving past his mouth, the squeeze on his hand tighten even more. "she have so much things to live for, i just let those people taking her life away, i- " loud sobbings escape his mouth, and he can't even bring himself to look anywhere but close his eye.

" it's not your fault nonetheless. you have a lot of things to live for too. taking the shot or not, the girl still being chased for her entire lifetime - which is draining for her to live with messed up thing, and no, i'm not saying that you should live with those guilt, no, but you need to let it go, baby. " you reach out to him, wiping the tears that stained his cheek.

he finds an enduring peace to have you here with him, but wasn't it draining for you? as if you were looking thru him, immediately sensing the discomfort in his thoughts, you pressed another light, feather kiss on his hand you've held earlier. " the damage have been done, and the things we can do now is to pray the girl to get the justice she deserve, " you paused, " and it's not your fault. please, "

" allow yourself to breathe again, and live. please? "

and he did. through the long night to the peaceful evening, that was the first time he ever smiled to you, returning the squeeze, and mayhaps the kiss you've silently asked for a while.

trying out new format LOL, and hi ! been hiatus for a while, since march i believe, and i am finally back ?! anyway, im not great at such dramatic dialouge, but i hope yall enjoy it ><

#sugawara koushi #haikyuu #sugawara fluff #sugawara comfort #reverse comfort #haikyuu fic #hq x y/n #haikyuu angst to fluff #haikyuu!!#sugawara

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galaxicide · 7 months

Note

it's too dangerous out there.

@wntrbird

Resistance canon blasts were coming at them from all sides, and crew members were falling over themselves just to stay upright while aboard The Finaliser, as it seemed they would soon meet their doom in the depths of space. All except for Kylo Ren, who strode through the trembling hallways without so much as a sway in his step, like a god powering through his kingdom, like an emperor of wartime Rome. The only time he stopped was to momentarily pull the Stone woman from the ground, not too aggressively, but he was none gentle, either. Least of all, did he expect her to then follow him on his pathway towards the airlock. He paid the action little attention.

It was clever for the resistance to take out the weapons system from the inside. No doubt, it was a plan concocted by General Organa and a small elite force, but she'd soon know it cost them all their lives at his hands and that none of the First Order would perish this day. Not with the plan he had in mind, reckless and dangerous as it was. Mayhaps Organa might even find a slither of pride in his madness.

The reality of his plan wrote itself starkly across his companion when they eventually reached the airlock, and she voiced her opinion in a tone he hadn't thought her capable of. It reminded him once more of the general, how odd. He regarded her momentarily, shrugging his cape off in the process where it thumped heavily upon the ground. "No. Out there is my home; it will welcome me. You shall see." The breathless, frozen space seeped in darkness, devoid of light. Where else would he call home?

Stepping into the airlock without another word, he closed one set of doors and formed a force shield around himself before he opened another. There was a scramble when the resistance ships noticed his presence, but by then, it was too late for any of them. They'd dug their graves, and Kylo Ren would be their reaper. One by one, they began to fall, exploding, crashing into one another in a horrific display of destruction. Ren simply stood atop his kingdom, willing their deaths effortlessly with an outstretched hand. The danger out there was no longer the cosmos itself. The danger was a man with the power to rival it.

#x. ANSWERED. ☄️#wntrbird #will literally show off to the entire resistance #how grandpa of him

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xiv-wolfram · 1 year

Text

Hear, Feel, Think - Comic Script

A Realm Reborn - lvl 5

Wolfram meets Y'Shtola... and a big talking crystal.

My Comics in Chronological Order

This is the script for a future comic. Posting for those who don’t want to wait to get the story. Numbers indicate frame number.

(from cutscene) A) Hydaelyn - “Crystal bearer...I am Hydaelyn. All made one. A Light there once was that shone throughout this realm... yet it hath since grown dim.” B) Hydaelyn - “And as it hath faltered, so hath Darkness risen up in its stead, presaging an end to Life.”

A) Hydaelyn - “For the sake of all, I beseech thee: deliver us from this fate! The power to banish the Darkness dwelleth in the Crystals of Light. Journey forth and lay claim to them.” B) Hydaelyn - “By thy deeds shall the Crystals reveal themselves to thee. Only believe, for the Light liveth in thy heart. Go now, my child, and shine thy Light on all creation.”

Y'Shtola helping Wolf stand from having collapsed in the grotto. Wolf holding his head with the other hand. Thought - ‘Hells…how strong was that grog?! That was the strangest vision yet. It felt different than what the hellhound usually shows me …" Y'Shtola ponders - "It would appear our culprits are seafaring men of some persuasion... piratical being the most probable."

A) Wolf laughs - "Aye, we’re in Vylbrand. It's always pirates." B) Y'Shtola chuckles - "In any event, you seem much recovered from your sudden... affliction."

A) Shtola ponders - “I confess, I was rather taken aback when you collapsed at the very moment of our victory. Mayhap a surfeit of aether...?” B) Wolf looking away, confused - "Perhaps…I had a strange dream. A towering Crystal was speaking to me."

A) Shtola confused - “I beg your pardon? A “towering crystal”? I'm sure I don't–" B) Shtola surprised - “Oh! Well, well... This has been a day of unexpected revelations.” C) Wolf quirks his eyebrow. Thought - 'She knows something… I need to find out more.'

A) Wolf gives his Y’Shtola his most charming smile - "Well lass, I certainly feel better after your aid. Perhaps you'd let me take you out for a meal to show my thanks?" B) Shtola scoffs - “I must continue my investigation. In the meantime, I suggest you deliver this knife to your patron, along with a warning concerning the pirates' probable involvement in this murky business.” Thought - "Is this man attempting to woo me? How odd…"

A) Wolf salutes and winks - "Yes ma'am! All business then." Thought - 'Suppose I'll have to try another angle if I see her again.' B) Shtola smiles at him in amusement - “The days ahead promise little rest, I fear…”

Shot from in front of Shtola. She’s walking out of the cave with an amused smile - “May our paths cross again under the light of the Crystal.” Wolf waves awkwardly, confused - “Aye…the Crystal… Farewell then, mysterious stranger. I'm Wolfram by the way. What's your -"

My Comics in Chronological Order

#WoLComic #ffxiv #ffxiv wol #oc wolfram #ffxiv oc #hyur highlander #hyur #y'shtola rhul #hydaelyn #a realm reborn #WolframBlog

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bohemian-nights · 6 months

Note

“He laughed . He actually laughed. Laena would not have thought anything of it had they been anywhere else, had it been any other time, about anyone else, but here, now, one this day, in front of everyone who mattered to them; this was wrong; even for him.”

Daemon is such an a**hole 🙄

“They would leave together. Hours would pass, mayhaps she would find herself giving into the temptation of a dreamless bout of sleep within them. There would be nothing else to entertain herself with except madness and cruel imaginings. When she awakened it would be to Rhaenyra sitting by her bed bouncing Aemon on her lap as she would tell her in a honey voice laced with venomous sting of her triumph. It is done Laena. We shall leave for Dragonstone on the morn.”

I wish that b*tch would. Vhagar will be back on the scene in less than a minute. Rhaenyra and Daemon would get a quick Dracarys.

“Daemon must have written back to Viserys for the next letter he received, which he let her read to him, was much warmer. You, Laena, and whatever children come from your union will always have a place in my court brother.”

I’m not sure Kings Landing is the absolute best place for Laena to be.

“Is he diseased?” Baela questioned. This time screwing up her nose and mouth. Dark eyes as wide as her grandmother's albeit with revulsion rather than shock. She did not even attempt to hide it."

🤣🤣🤣

"She had counted to thirty before she lost that regality. She tripped over her skirts when her foot caught on the bottom of her trail as she reached a step. Forgetting that her balance was not quite what it ought to be and her skirts too long. Daemon was too far away to catch her though he could surely see her. Probably cursing her silent command to stay. She would have fallen on her face if an olive hand had not reached out to grab her."

Sorry Laena but that’s Alicent’s man lol 🤭 and as I side note Criston is fine and I’m tired of people acting like he’s not.

“Laena had thought about leaning over their girls to place a kiss on the shadow of his broad chin, but grabbed the hand that had taken to stroking the back of Baela's locs, trying to lull their wild girl to sleep, and brought the back of it to her lips. Planting a kiss on each knuckle. I. Love.You. He knew that. He knew she was incapable of anything else. I'm. Sorry. That he knew was a lie, but he had not held it against her. Squeezing her hand, he mouthed the words over Baela's silver curls. I love you too, you minx.”

Aww I’m feeling the feels.

“Love, he loved her. Maybe not the way he loved Rhaenyra. Maybe never in that way, but was a part of him that loved her. That part of him that had chosen her when he had not had to.”

Laena darling, and I’m going to touch your hand when I say this, you don’t want to be loved by Daemon the way he “loves” Rhaenyra.

“Aegon and Helaena were plump,” Laena could see a glint of light in Alicent’s brown eyes and a hint of a smile when she spoke of her children as she bounced Aemon. “Chubby little cherubs. Daeron too. Aemond was my smallest. I used to spend hours just watching when he was a babe. Precious thing.” To that she did not know who she was referring to, but it mattered not.”

I want them to be friends 🥺

“Her body went stiff. Every last drop of blood drained from her body. All she could hear was a ringing in her ears. How she remained standing she did not know. Laena almost wished she was staring at the sea again. For drowning was preferable to having your heart ripped out from your chest.”

Sh*t just got real. You get a betrothal, you get a betrothal, and you get a betrothal lol. I can Baela and Rhaena siding with Jace and Luke on one hand because Rhaena wants a dragon (though they don’t know Laenor so I don’t they’d get as defensive in canon) on the other Aemond is Rhaena’s “betrothed” (well not officially but Aemond knows that) so I can’t imagine him still hitting her. Speaking of betrothals I think Aemond and Rhaena will get along fine but Baela and Aegon 🥴. It could either go very wrong or very well. As for Daemon if his a** comes in with Rhaenyra on behalf of Laena I’m asking for an annulment.

Everyone gets a betrothal 🤣 Yeah I’m debating on what side I’m going to have the girls on. Aemond knows about the betrothals, but Baela and Rhaena don’t and she does really want a dragon(and to prove herself). They may not have known Laenor, but he was still their uncle(and Rhaenys might’ve promised that once things had settled down she’d help Rhaena claim Seasmoke💀).

If I take it there(Aemond will not touch Rhaena, but he might push Baela) the fight definitely will be a minor bump in the road for these future love birds.

However, Baela and Aegon 🫠(that’s going to be a very bumpy ride).

#the dragons will clash #aegon is going to be like she’s crazy #and baela will be like he’s crazy and a drunk 🤣#what we may mend #my writing asks ✍🏽#love this commentary 😊

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tallbluelady · 2 years

Text

Closure

Urianger undid the last of the clasps on Rowan's dress and rubbed her back in a soothing manner. She had withdrawn into herself after dealing with so many people at the most recent celebration, so he wasn't expecting much from her tonight.

"How many of these are left?" Rowan mumbled as she stepped out of the gown.

"Only as many as thou thinkest thou canst handle," Urianger said. "Thou art free to decline attendance to any."

She hummed and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "I would, but I know everyone needs the closure from the Final Days. If they need me at a party for it, then so be it."

"Hast thou gained the closure thou needst?" he asked.

She was silent for a long while, and Urianger looped his arm around her. It still surprised him how delicate and fragile she felt at times. Oft, she'd show how physically strong she was filled with laughter. But right now...

"Nay." Rowan broke the long silence and wrapped her arms around him. "I don't know if I ever truly will. Some nights I still wake up in a cold sweat, imagining you as nothing but a few lights at the edge of the universe."

Urianger pulled her closer. "As long as I draw breath, I shall not leave thee in that manner. Never again."

"But what if you have to?" she whispered. "What if I have to? We would both sacrifice ourselves for this Star. We already have."

"Aye, we already have. Mayhap fate wilt be merciful and spare us the decision again," Urianger said. Anything more comforting would be an outright lie, and he couldn't bear to tell his beloved one at this juncture.

She sighed. "Mayhap you have the right of it. Mayhap we've exhausted all of the hard choices destiny had for us in just these few years."

Urianger smiled. "Mayhap we have. After all, is not every Umbral Era followed by the Astral? While my focus was on the Seventh Calamity, there were times of prophesied peace."

Rowan tilted her head to look him in the eye, silver eyes tired, but still holding a spark of hope in them. "Truly? The ones I've heard from you and other sources were all doom and gloom."

"To be fair, most of them do concern calamitous events. It does not do to warn people of times of plenty when there are times of strife needing to be prepared for. But in my thorough investigation of such things, I hath found that peace hath been foretold as well."

"Do you remember how any of them go?"

Urianger smiled. If it had been any other person, Rowan would have never assumed that they would. Or, more likely, she would have teased him about it. But she knew his heart and mind as much as anyone could. And he did know, and he knew that she actually wanted to hear them.

With practiced ease, he recited them for her as they finished getting ready for bed. To his surprise, Rowan started humming along to one.

"Art thou familiar with the words of Ihmwey the Elder?" he asked, pulling the blanket over them.

"Oh, is that the prophet's name?" Rowan nestled closer to him. "I just know it from Thordan IV. They sing it in the play."

"Then mayhap I need to read more of the dragoon's son's works if they are peppered with such references."

"My mother would be more than happy to supply you with her copies of the works."

Urianger smiled and cupped his lover's face. His words had brought happiness back into her eyes, something he would fight to keep. And fight he would - using every gentle technique and soft word he had at his disposal.

"I love thee."

"Em-hm. I love you, too."

He kissed her lips. Not long or sumptuously, but simply and affectionate. Rowan's sigh still melted his heart as they parted.

"I'll see thee in the morn."

Rowan smiled sleepily. "Thank you."

With those words and a set of matching sighs, the pair drifted off to sleep.

#woliangerweek #woliangerweek2022 #aether and anatomy #rowan argentas #Urianger #urianger x wol #i almost forgot to post this lmao #prompt: closure

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 1 year

Text

FebHyurary Day 10: Home

Royalty AU. King Estinien shows his new wife around Pillars Castle. SFW...mostly. lol And yes there will be a part two!

Agnes giggled as she followed her husband through the corridors of Pillars Castle. He vowed to show her lesser known parts of the castle. His reasoning is that this is my home now, and I should know about different secret passages and rooms. But fuck that explanation! I just like exploring and secret passages ARE AMAZING!!!

“Where are we going, love?” She asked breathlessly. “Or shall you keep it a surprise like the last?” He took me to a hidden chapel connected to his bedroom that was used by previous kings.

Estinien barked a laugh. “You will see, my pretty wife! We’re close.” Through more winding corridors and up some stairs, he suddenly stopped a heavy oak door and pulled a key out of a pocket. “You’ll see, my love…” Grinning, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Her mouth dropped. “Well, shit. Wasn’t expecting this.”

The room was light and bright (similar to my room) with a vanity, a few bookshelves, four-poster bed, and an attached luxury bathroom.

“Who—?”

Estinien took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “Twas my great aunt’s private chambers. She hated the busyness of the castle with soldiers, courtiers, and such…she never married and had no official duties, so she spent much of her time here.” He kissed her knuckles and with a hesitant expression, met her eyes. “I thought mayhap this could be a retreat of sorts. Still within the castle in case I’m needed but not easily known by—”

“Literally everyone.” She wrinkled her nose and giggled. “That’s very thoughtful of you, love.” Oh goodness the tips of his ears are turning bright red. How delightful! Agnes quickly hugged him, humming as his arms wrapped around her. “In fact, I believe we should explore the intimacy of this beautiful room. Don’t you agree?”

“Is that what you want, my queen?” Estinien murmured softly with a hint of a growl in his voice. He slowly walked to his wife and then gripped her hips, squeezing them. “Intimacy in this room?”

Eyes sparkling and expression light, Agnes smiled seductively. “King of my heart, I desire intimacy with you in this room right the fuck now.”

#agnes currai #royalty au #febhyurary #estinien wyrmblood #estinien x wol #estinien varlineau #wolstinien #agnes varlineau #secret passages and shit are very cool #when your new home has secret passages and secret rooms

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a-warriors-thoughts · 1 month

Text

Idk what else to name this so suggestions would be nice. Wrote it for someone very much newr and dear to me who's been though way too much in her past and I care so much for.

***"Despite the Past"***

Where some see a lady, broken

Others see a warrior, triumphant

Most shall never hear the words unspoken

Whilst she bears her past as a raiment

Some days may cast over her a stygian hue

While others allow her radiance to shine

Though she may be vexed with her view

Truly, she is beautifully divine

Shadow tries to conceal joy

Availing not as riven are its bars

Its attempt tis but a ploy

To stifle their inner stars

Abandoned she shall never be

For no matter how trying is the time

One at least shall refuse to flee

To stand by her through fire and rime

Friends may come and go

Those true few will ever decree

Their defiance against wandering to and fro

Ever present for each fall or victory

Emotions mayhaps run wild

Anger and spite can make blood boil

True hope and love cannot be beguiled

She stands not alone versus life's turmoil

Where one might see a lady, broken

Another sees a warrior, glorious

Hidden words have been spoken

Done so in a manner most amatorious

Until the demise of days

Connections forged in light do scry

For desires of years bright under solar rays

May she nevermore be lead awry

--KiloCharlie

#poetry #poem #caring #for someone special #inner thoughts

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speciosuspoematis · 3 months

Text

DRABBLE: Thoughts and Prayers

Mention: @soulsalight

Ishgard always did look different in the dead of night when only lonesome patrols paced through bare streets and rain hammered from the heavens. There was a bizarre sense of peace that surrounded, a calm that one could find not in the warmth of his study nor the comfort of a book.

Booted feet displaced water as he walked, lithe fingers reddened by the biting cold gripped his coat ever closer - pale hair sodden and stuck to the weary complexion of his cheeks. Rumbles from the heavens deterred him not, but he would easily admit to relief once he reached the warm halls of the Cathedral.

With his jacket left upon an old hangar in the corner, Cyvel turned his gaze up towards the grand statue of the Fury, surrounded by beauteous stained glass, and took a very slow walk down the isle with the intention of sitting near to the front.

First, however, he pauses before a small alter with burning candles placed in memorium: some still burning from where they had been lit earlier in the day, some having not long burned out. He adds his own, drawing a match ere lighting it with a silent prayer, all thoughts directed to those they had lost.

Finally does he sit, a single white rose held to his chest, as if it's very presence would absorb all in which he was feeling.

"Happy Valentione's, Zephirin." He whispered, eyes cast down toward the floor. "... You would have liked the decorations in the Vault, this year. Everything is made of glittering crystal and white fabric, reds and pinks dotted between."

He keeps his voice low, knows that he speaks only to himself in the emptiness of the room, and yet he finds such comfort in doing so. Often did he sit within those halls late in the evening, when most others were in the company of their family and the warmth of their homes, to speak to his brother or his father... Or, on times such as these, Zephirin. He wonders, perhaps with too much hope belonging to a wounded heart, if any of them ever hear him... If their spirits lurk to see his patheticism hidden by the dark of the night.

"... This is the first year since you all vanished that the white roses within the greenhouse bloomed, too--" And mayhap there was some variety of symbolism in such but... "... I couldn't help but think of you when I saw them. I've bought one with me, in fact... Would that I could give it to you. "

His heart - how it ached and 't is only because of his loneliness that eve that he allowed the flowing of tears within his eyes to freely fall down the pale of his features.

"You're greatly missed." There poses a wobble to his voice, even at such a dainty volume, and after an elongated while of silence does he stand and place the white rose down in front or the candle in which he'd lit earlier. "... And always shall be. I dare say part of my heart perished alongside you that day."

Upon his leave, he pauses and turns back to face the grand statue once more, finding the pits of his stomach churn. It would be best for him to let go, he knows, but he simply cannot.

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cloudofdarkness · 1 year

Text

Owing you one

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Relationship: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light

Characters:

G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch

Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

Additional Tags:

Angst

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sometimes you mess up again and again, but maybe that's not your problem

They’d been away from the tower for far too long.

It was to be a simple walk back from their small trip to the recently returned encampment along Lakeland’s glistening shore, and who better to welcome them than the vaunted Crystal Exarch and his Warrior of Darkness? They would prefer no other. Being well assured they could stay late into the evening, the two happily obliged. After all, the walk back in the morning wouldn’t be too far.

And yet, they were still far too careless.

The fatigue didn’t dawn on the Exarch immediately, having spent a far longer time away from the tower than they had the night before during previous adventures. Not even the small, pinching pain of his usual morning headache bothered him, especially not when he was laying so closely to his warrior— turned on his side to quietly watch his chest rise and fall in his sleep. How it reminded him of their earlier days, camped in Mor Dhona, stuck in that research tent together. Those nights that G’raha would stay up reading, but would soon find himself distracted by the calm aura A’tali radiated when he slept. How, no matter what he’d gone through, he always kept that serenity about him. It was those small moments that he first felt his heart begin to flutter for the other man, and oh what it did to him now, after all those years of longing...if only he could move himself close, if it weren’t for the fear of someone poking their head in at any moment. They could say it was an accident, a simple movement in their sleep, but he would think too much on it. He would stumble, as he often found himself doing around the warrior now. To think he used to keep himself so composed.

“I can feel those allagan eyes watching me, you know~”

The small, accusing whisper made him jump, his tail flickering in alert as he was caught in his musings, watching the warrior peek a mischievous eye open at him. How radiant his smile was, how beautifully his pale eyes shone through that endless mess of hair. How it made his heart soar…

And then he was pulled in, and he had to shush the other for being so playful, that they wouldn’t be caught. A’Tali couldn’t help but laugh, trying his best to keep himself quiet as his tail wrapped around the Exarch’s middle. “This is quite informal, you know.” G’raha warned, though he only earned a peck on the forehead in return, sighing in defeat.

“I am aware. Though I dare say I don’t believe I care much about formalities when I’m with you~” the warrior teased him, earning a gentle nudge in the side from the Exarch. It was a small moment however, as A’Tali was quickly alerted to a presence outside their tent, pressing the other back down against his cushion and clearing his throat.

“May I help you?”

“Ah! I see you are awake and well, my Warrior of Darkness! We were hoping to wish you two off before you began your trek back to the Crystarium, mayhap with a hearty breakfast and a couple rolls for that pleasant guard of yours who insisted on checking in with us this morning!”

The two miqo’te sighed softly, knowing they were talking about Lyna. She would check up on the Exarch like that. It was her duty, after all. A’Tali was quick to answer then, smiling down to G’raha all the while. “We shall be with you in a moment then! The Exarch has a very intricate morning routine that only I can assist him with, and he hates anyone seeing him beforehand. I...hope you understand?” He tried to stifle a laugh as the man below him glared daggers into him with his gaze. He knew he’d be paying for that remark later, but it was always fun to see him come undone even in the slightest. It’s what kept them young.

Once they received their confirmation, their morning began, and thankfully, without much chaos. — The walk back seemed a lot longer than G’raha remembered, and he felt himself finding his staff as support more than he should have. Did the morning light always shine so brightly against the near ivory earth? Were the leaves blowing in from the trees always so fluorescent in color? Stifling his headaches always caused him to trail off in observation like so, so much, that he’d almost forgotten the other was there next to him.

“And while I think orange looks splendid on others, I- Raha? Are you alright?” He was stopped on their walk, gently taking the Exarch’s arm in worry as he’d noticed his far-off stare. The only other time he’d seen him like this was after the events at the Tempest. He couldn’t help but be worried.

“I shall be fine. Tis only the morning fatigue and being away from the tower that drains me so. You needn’t worry.” His hand came up to place itself over his warrior’s, a gentle smile at his lips to assure him he was alright. It wasn’t the first time he’d drained himself, and it was far from the last. That being said, it still didn’t stifle A’Tali’s worried gaze, his brows still furrowed as if he was searching for something deep inside his mind, as if he heard that incessant humming in the back of his head that grew louder every moment he was away from the tower.

A cry for help broke their small moment, and the two miqo’te immediately jumped to action, heading in its direction until they came upon what exactly was causing the alarm. A malboro— not commonly seen in these parts— was towering over two tiny elfen children, and by the looks of it? Was near about to swallow them whole.

The warrior acted quickly, snatching his bow and an arrow from behind his back with practiced fingers, and letting loose that arrow right into its maw. The moment the beast retracted, the Exarch all but scurried over to the two children, helping them up despite feeling that fatigue in his legs. He recognized them instantly from the Crystarium, figuring they might’ve wandered too far on their journey and meeting them with a warm smile despite the chaos. A’tali could handle himself, this he knew. “If you are well enough to walk, see yourselves back home.” A nod, and the children didn’t hesitate to make haste back the way they came.

It was unfortunate then, that another draining wave washed over the Exarch’s mind, as if the tower could see him standing just outside the city’s limits, irresponsibly keeping himself away. He leaned himself against his staff for support, but kept his ground nevertheless, knowing he still had a fight to win.

Just as he turned, he watched the warrior let loose a slew of arrows along the creature’s mouth, earning another frantic throw of its tentacles. He simply laughed in triumph, dodging a whip and dancing around it almost mockingly. It was too easy for him, but then again, he did like to show off.

However, this was no time to be distracted, and G’raha quickly threw his staff forward, sending magicked shards of ice into the malboro’s back. He’d fight off the drain for as long as he needed to. He’d been through much worse. This was nothing. Right?

The beast’s longer tentacles flung themselves into its mouth, confusing the two for a moment before watching its mouth bubble over with the powerful toxin it was so infamously known for. Both were quick to jump back as the now toxin ridden tentacles whipped out to the sides, staining the earth with it’s acid as it cried out in anger.

More arrows were fired, and firey blasts shot from the Exarch’s staff, but the beast was having trouble yielding, practically radiating its poison now. They were close though, they could feel it.

And then, that low hum again, that sound almost akin to a machine slowly and defeatedly powering down, dying, grinding against the Exarch’s brain. It came louder this time, causing him to trip up, barely able to grasp for his staff. He was using too much of his power in this fight. He had to hold back. A’Tali could handle himself. How could he let himself grow so dependent on something?

“G’raha! Look out!”

He barely registered it, and it wasn’t until his breath was pushed out of him from the warrior’s bodily tackle did he realize he was standing in the way of the Malboro. Within a moment, his back was against the earth, and that hum grew louder, all but deafening him for a moment.

And then a cry of pain. Not his own. Never his own. The embrace the warrior had on him tightened, near suffocating in his hold. And he felt...droplets on his neck. Tears.

A’Tali was hurt.

A’Tali was hurt, and he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

The last thing he’d heard was his name.

They’d been away from the tower for far too long. — It wasn’t anything new for him to bolt upright in bed after a rest. Many things made him do so, but it was the reminder that there was no time for sleeping that he did so this time. Not often did he drain himself so much that he awoke rather disoriented and lack of recent memory, but he found it happening more with his daring escapades alongside the Scions.

His ruby eyes trailed the room, for something he didn’t know, a reason why he was here.

And then his gaze fell on the arrow necklace on his bedside, and everything came back suddenly.

“...Tali…” it was nearly breathless, and he all but threw himself out of his bed, shaking off the slight vertigo that came with his recharge to reach his door. He didn’t care what he looked like in that moment— hair down and a mess, his bottom robe the only one present—

“Evening, Raha. Tis good to see you up and about.”

His tail flickered in surprise, turning slowly to see that he hadn’t just been hearing voices, and that he’d completely passed the warrior laying back against his couch, curled up with a book. He could see the bandaging poking out from the blanket over his shoulders.

He wanted to run to him, hug him in relief and release those stressful tears welling up inside him. But he didn’t even know what to say. The shock of it all rendered him speechless. This wasn’t the first time.

“You were out for two days. My apologies for that. I should’ve gotten you back sooner. I received quite an earful from your Captain. She had to haul the both of us the rest of the way back on her shoulders.” A gentle laugh left him, and he carefully sat up to set his book aside, holding the blanket around him close. He looked so calm for someone crying out as loudly as he was moments before G’raha sunk into unconsciousness. “I’m alright, by the way. I won’t be fighting for awhile longer due to the damage the toxin did to the muscle tissue, but honestly it looks a lot worse than it feels.”

There was silence still, and the warrior’s gaze flickered to the Exarch’s non crystal hand clenching itself in his robes. He was thinking of something to say, he just didn’t know what. Or...he didn’t think he was allowed to say what he wanted to. The warrior’s gaze softened. He didn’t have to.

“You can come and look over it if it eases your mind.”

A’Tali watched his tail flicker, his ruby eyes apprehensively meeting his pale ones. G’raha felt his bare feet move slowly across the cold, crystalline floor, finding it hard to look away as the warrior removed the blanket. He sat behind him, ever silent, ever focused on what worried him most.

It was...gruesome work, and he could tell where the poison had sunk in the most. The tattoo on his back was absolutely ruined, as if the scarring he’d collected over the years hadn’t already done a terrible number on it.

But...perhaps he could-

“They did all they could. No manner of healing attempts is going to fix it any more.” The warrior spoke up, and the Exarch looked to his crystalline hand hovering over the bandages, a soft sigh leaving him as it clenched, retracted itself. He looked awful, he probably felt awful. He knew he was just trying to make him feel better, but how could he?

A’Tali felt his crystal hand rest on his shoulder, and the gentle press of his forehead against the back of his neck. His breathing was soft, but he could feel that too.

“...how many more times must this happen?”

It was soft, defeated, and it caused A’tali’s ears to twitch. “...Raha?”

His head was still lowered, ears pressed to the sides of his head as they sat in silence, the only noise around them the ambient hum of the tower. “How many more times must I fail to save you? If I can’t even do that then what was the point of bringing you here but to delay the inevitable?”

As soon as he said it, his ears rose in alarm, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He didn’t like to burden anyone with his doubts, especially not his warrior, but perhaps he was still tired.

Perhaps...doubts would sometimes spill from the lips of the lonely.

G’raha felt a hand intertwine with the one on A’tali’s shoulder, his eyes flickering to it. Were there tears there? He could hardly tell. “You say that as if I could die so easily. Which, now that I’m with you, I couldn’t allow.”

His smile was ever the definition of warmth, and even though G’raha could see the fatigue in his gaze from the ongoing pain, he was still so alive. So animated, so…

Loving.

“I know you give yourself high expectations, that you should never leave yourself room to fail, and I can’t begin to imagine the things you’ve been through to burn that mindset into you.” He paused, gently squeezing his hand in assurance. “...but I can tell you that you could never fail me. In fact, you’ve saved me in a way that no one else could.”

He turned around then, taking his other hand and scooting himself closer. “I haven’t felt the way I do now since...before I lost my family. For the longest time, I made myself believe that as the warrior of light, I wasn’t meant to have those I loved most by my side. I lost people...you being one of them. I almost started giving up.” Another pause, and he felt his chest quiver with a shaky inhale. “But then the strangest thing happened...and we found ourselves washed up on the shores of the tempest. And I realized then...it was you.”

A singular ear lowered in question on the Exarch, staring on at the warrior in shock, but he wasn’t one to interrupt his musings, no matter how much he wanted to question why.

“You broke that pattern. You defied fate. You...you set me free from that. And I...I couldn’t be more thankful. I couldn’t be happier simply because I have you. So you haven’t failed me. You never could. Your limitations do not define you, but what you do provide is what matters most.”

There was silence again, and A’Tali had that nagging feeling he’d said something wrong. It was often he did, and he was prepared to receive anything the other might return.

But instead, he watched his bottom lip quiver, tears spilling over, rolling down his cheeks as his eyes told the warrior he was grateful. He tried all he could to wipe them away, so to not embarrass himself too much. This wasn’t about him, anyways. But he felt that gentle tug on his arm, and suddenly his head rest itself against his chest. His cheek met the warm skin on his neck, feeling the gentle inhale and exhale of his breaths. This was all he wanted? All he desired? To have him? It felt too good to be true. That was what he’d wanted all those years alone, but he could never hope to have that feeling returned.

And yet. His warrior was holding him while he cried. They were in his quarters. A’Tali felt so warm.

He only wanted him. That was what made him happy.

That he would simply be enough.

#eden writes #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #g'raha tia #crystal exarch #swan sirenia #warrior of light #warrior of darkness #wolexarch #wolgraha

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