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suugarbabe · 7 months

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Saving Grace VI

[Chapter 6]

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

word count: ~3.3k

warning: angst, fluff, mentions of blood, smut, slight male overstimulation, 18+ content MDNI

Your heart had never felt so full. Laying on the couch in the common room with Mattheo on top of you, his back to your front as he laid between your legs. His head was resting on your stomach, his arms draped over your thighs as your legs intertwined with his. Soft snores are coming from Mattheo as you continue to trace your fingers through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.

You looked over his face, noting the different scars. The one along his right side, that went through his eyebrow and over his cheek, had been there before you met him. He told you he got it the summer before he came to Hogwarts, something about a ‘task his father had challenged him with’ went not quite as planned. You lightly traced it with your thumb and he seemed to unconsciously lean into your touch.

He had a couple other small scars from nicks and such in fights, but your favorite one was on the bridge of his nose. It really wasn’t quite a scar yet, but you knew it would turn into one eventually. The scab across it was nearly healed, leaving a thick line of pink skin. The week after you two had made it officially official, Adrian had come to bother you again, this time trying to grab you away from Mattheo in the middle of the hall, yanking on your elbow.

You had seen Mattheo fight plenty of times, but this time it was like all he could see was red and all he wanted was Adrian dead. It took Theo, Draco and Blaise to finally pull them apart. Mattheo came out with just one deep gash on the bridge of his nose, while Adrain was in the hospital wing for a week. Mattheo got a month’s worth of detention, the last of which he served today.

McGonagall made him reorganize the quidditch locker rooms and their respective closets. It took him nearly all day, hence his exhausted and sleeping figure on top of you. But you didn’t mind, you loved when he was able to be more vulnerable and loved that he felt safe enough to be that way with you. He was always displaying himself as so tough and unbreakable, you often had to remind him that he, too, was merely human and would break if he didn’t allow himself time to relax and recover.

You were so engrossed with how pretty your boyfriend looked sleeping that you had zoned out, completely forgetting the other people around you. Pansy’s snapping is what finally broke your trance as you looked over to the couch across from you, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Merlin, you two are so lovesick on each other,” she teased, causing the others to smile along with her.

“Thank Salazar you finally admitted your feelings for him, I swear we were all going mental just waiting on you two to make it actually official,” Theo stated, lighting a spliff and taking a drag.

Your face turned into one of confusion, “What do you mean ‘finally admitted my feelings for him’, what are you on about?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Cousin told us you guys were faking it.” You went to sit up a little straighter, however Mattheo’s grip on your legs prevented you from moving all together.

“You mean you all knew it was fake? I mean, it’s not anymore, it hasn’t been for a while, but you all knew in the beginning?” You looked at each one of their faces. Enzo looked guilty, Theo and Draco both wore annoying smirks while Blaise and Pansy just had huge smiles.

“To be fair, we didn’t know until after your little show at that first party,” Theo wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Still think about it sometim-” he was cut short thankfully by Blaise throwing a pillow at his head.

Blaise turned to you then, “At first we thought he was just bringing you to the party as his date for the night, you know, like he was known to do. We played games and had a lot of fun. But during your little performance I noticed someone watching the two of you, specifically you, very closely.”

You rolled your eyes, his name coming out like a grumble from your mouth, “You mean Adrian.”

Blaise couldn’t help the slight smirk on his face, “Precisely. So, the next morning, when we were all a little more sober, I decided to ask Mattheo what was going on.”

“At first he tried to deny everything, saying it was just for the night or whatever, but I could see right through it,” Draco pipped in. “Eventually, he told us how Adrian was being a proper creep and you asked for his help -”

Enzo interrupted him, “And Matty boy was talking about you for months before that.” The rest of the group seemed to nod in agreement.

You couldn’t help the look of shock on your face, “W-what are you guys talking about? Months before?”

Blaise smiled at you, “That’s right sweetheart.” You looked back down at Mattheo’s sleeping form, admiration clear on your face. You traced your thumb over the apple of his cheek and he stirred slightly. His long eyelashes fluttered open, his voice thick with sleep as he spoke, “You lot talking ‘bout me?”

A few members of the group laughed softly as you ran your fingers through his hair, “All good things, love.” He grumbled slightly, turning over so he was now laying on his stomach, burying his face into your jumper covered chest.

“You still sitting with me at the match tomorrow?” Pansy asked excitedly, finally able to have another girl with her to watch the boys play.

Eyes still closed, Mattheo answered for you, “Course she is, gonna be wearing my spare jersey.” You smiled at Pansy, nodding your head in agreement.

“And here I thought she’d be wearing mine,” Theo, ever the sass-master, felt the need to interject and quickly regretted it as Mattheo fully opened his eyes. You ran your hand through Mattheo’s curls, essentially soothing him back to a calm state before giving Theo the finger for riling him up.

You wanted to curse whatever founder decided that deep into Scotland was the best location for Hogwarts as you pulled your stocking cap down over your ears. You also wanted to curse whoever decided that quidditch season needed to be in the bloody winter.

“How the bloody hell do you look so cute but I look like a bundled troll?” Pansy poked the stuffing of her jacket near her stomach. You huffed out a laugh, “Oh please, Pans, we both look like stuffed olives. Green is normally so flattering to me, but right now I feel like a pickle.”

You and Pansy continued to make comparisons to different green foods back and forth, not being able to contain your laughter as you found your seats in the stands on the Slytherin side. You weren’t sure if it was your relationship status, or if you and Pansy just got lucky, but you managed two front row spots in your house section, giving you the perfect view of the pitch.

As both teams came out from the locker room tents you joined your fellow students in cheering loudly for green and silver. As members of both teams started doing warm up laps around the pitch, a particularly curly haired captain was hovering right in front of you and you couldn’t contain the grin that spread over your face.

“Well don’t you look adorable this brisk afternoon, princess,” Mattheo was balancing on his Firebolt, leaning over the banister at the front of the stands. You stood from your seat, leaning closer to him, “I know you love pickles so I figured I’d copy the look to keep you motivated.”

Mattheo let out a hearty chuckle, “S’that what you think you look like?” You nodded, biting your bottom lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. “Well you’re correct as always love,” Mattheo closed the gap between you two, placing a gentle kiss to your lips that ended far sooner than you wanted, “I love pickles and you look delicious.”

You giggled slightly as you pushed his shoulder, effectively pushing him farther from you. With a wink he was soaring back down to the ground, meeting Madam Hooch and the other team's captain. As Madam Hooch released the bludgers and the snitch your adrenaline began to rise. When she tossed the quaffle in the air you were off your seat, keeping a close eye on Mattheo as he maneuvered around the pitch.

Quidditch games were not foreign to you, you’ve even played it a little on holidays with your friends and such, but there was something about watching Mattheo, watching your boyfriend that made it all the more exciting.

It definitely helped that Mattheo was a wiz at the game, gliding through the air, catching the quaffle like he’d been playing the game since he came out of the womb. He was especially cheeky this game, though, throwing a wink or a point your way every time he scored.

The game was so exciting and Mattheo managed to pay you so much attention that you nearly forgot that Adrian was also on the team. That is, you forgot until you saw a bludger head straight for Mattheo. Thankfully he saw it and ducked out of the way.

You followed the path that the bludger came from expecting to see the colors of the opposing team. Your eyes narrowed to slits as you saw Adrian Pucey hovering on his broom, bat in hand and a smirk plastered on his face.

Adrian had arrogance, that was evident when he made eye contact with you and sent you a wink. You're sure your face was displaying a scowl but you held up both hands with middle fingers for good measure.

You weren’t sure the game Adrian was playing at, but you knew Mattheo could finish it. After two more goals you saw Adrian smack another bludger, again heading straight towards your boyfriend, whose back was turned.

You thanked Merlin for Theo as he came bolting towards Mattheo, using his own bat to beat the bludger in a different direction. Mattheo turned around, confused at the commotion as Theo very obviously shouted something at him.

Mattheo then flew over where Draco had been, who was very obviously on the hunt for the snitch. Draco’s eyes were darting around the sky, searching for any glimpse of gold as he took in whatever words Mattheo was speaking.

In an instant Draco was off, the Slytherin section erupting into cheers as he presumably found what he was looking for. Mattheo flew over to Theo, exchanging words. Theo nodded his head in understanding.

The heat of the game was happening but your eyes stayed glued to Mattheo as he flew to the other side of the pitch towards Adrian. Cheers and shouts erupted around you, leading to an understanding that Draco likely caught the snitch and Slytherin had won.

You watched as Mattheo all but dragged Adrian off his broom and to the tunnel leading from the pitch to the locker rooms. You watch as Mattheo’s fist connects with Adrian’s nose. Everyone else is seemingly distracted by the victory but you can't tear your eyes away from watching Mattheo beat the living shit out of Adrian not ten meters from everyone else.

When you see Mattheo walk away from a crouching Adrian on the floor and head to the locker rooms you immediately follow, ignoring Pansy’s calls about where you were going. You rushed down the steps of the stands, taking as large of steps as your legs would allow as you reached the opening of the Slytherin locker room tent.

The locker room was empty as everyone was still on the pitch celebrating. You walk further into the room, hearing a shower running. You shed some of your layers, taking off your hat, scarf, Mattheo’s extra jersey and your thick jumper. You toed off your shoes, pulling your socks along with them.

The steam from the showers curled around your legs as you entered the shower stalls. When you finally reached him you saw the water at his feet run pink against the tile. You were sure the majority, if not all, was Adrians. You step into the stall, not caring that your clothes were essentially going to get soaked. You placed a tentative hand on his back.

He flinched at first, relaxing quickly into your touch. “What did he say, Teo?” He kept his back to you, doing his best to have a jovial tone, “If you wanted to see me naked again, love, you could’ve just asked. No need to storm the showers.”

You rubbed your hands up and down his back, massaging his obviously sore muscles, “Mattheo…”

He let out a long sigh as he placed his hands on the wall in front of him. You saw a few cuts on his knuckles that you made note to heal later. “He deserved it,” his voice strained slightly, like just talking about it was making him angry all over again.

You nodded, though you knew he couldn’t see it, “I’m sure he did, love, but what did he do this time?”

His muscles tensed again, “It was about you. Had your name in his filthy fucking mouth. He..” Mattheo took another deep breath, you rubbed up and down his back, encouraging him to continue, “Well first he tried to knock me out with two fucking bludgers.”

“I saw, right coward move if you ask me,” your rested your hands on Mattheo’s shoulders. He placed one of his on top on yours as he continued, “Then when I dragged him down, asking him what his problem was, he started talking about you. Starting saying foul things about you, saying he could have his way with you if he tried hard enough, that you being with me was all a lie and if he asked he could ‘have you up against a wall and calling his name’ and I just lost it.”

He turned to face you, hands gripping at the wet fabric on your waist, “I’m sorry princess, I just…I couldn’t stop myself.” His head fell to the crook of your neck as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, neither caring about the vulnerable state Mattheo was in in the shower stall.

His posture indicated he felt bad for his actions, or at least feared that you might be mad at him. In reality you were anything but angry. You know it shouldn’t, but seeing Mattheo fight just…spurred you on.

You tugged lightly at his curls and he lifted his head up, soft brown eyes meeting yours. “I love when you fight for me, Teo,” you twirled a curl around your finger at the base of his neck. Mattheo’s mouth upturned ever so slightly, “Yeah?”

You could feel his fingers dip under the hem of your shirt as you nodded your head, “Yeah, I know it’s kind of bad, but when I saw you hitting him earlier,” you pushed Mattheo back slightly, gripping the bottom of your soaked shirt and peeling it up and off your body, Mattheo’s eyes shot straight to your green lace bra, “I just wanted to get you alone and show you how much I really,” you popped the button of your jeans, “truly,” you dragged them down your legs and stepped out, “appreciate it.”

He knows he’s seen you bare before, but there was something about you standing in soaking green lace that had his body responding before his mind could control it. Mattheo, for once, was at a loss for words, but you didn’t mind taking control for a moment.

You placed a hand on his strong chest, pushing him back with the slightest pressure as your trailed your hand down his abdomen, feeling the dips and curves of his muscles that quidditch helped sculpt. His eyes held contact with yours as his back hit the tile wall.

Your hands continued to explore his body, thumbs dipping into the v-cut of his hips before grabbing him fully in your hand. You stroked him with light pressure, Mattheo’s eyes rolling as his head leaned back against the wall, “Your teasing me, Princess.” The statement came out in a breathy moan.

“Just trying to show my boyfriend how thankful I am that he’s always there to defend me,” you slowly fell to your knees, dragging your nails down his thighs as you did so, eliciting a soft groan from Mattheo.

You hold your mouth open, sticking out your tongue. You hold him in your mouth for a moment, just feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You’ve only been any type of intimate a few times since officially being called ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ but you had made a mental note to take your time and enjoy it all in the beginning.

“P-please, Princess. I n-need you to do something,” Mattheo’s begging went straight to your core. You pulled him from your mouth slowly, trailing your tongue along the underside of his cock.

You wrap your hand around him, small strokes up and down as you kitten lick his tip. His hand finds home in your hair, lacing his fingers through the wet strands.

You flatten your hand at the base of his cock, fingers spread across his pubic bone. You do your best to open your throat as you take as much of him as you can in your mouth. Your thumb applying light pressure where his balls meet his base, massaging the soft spot there.

“F-fuck, holy shit, love, do that again,” Mattheo pleads. You hum in acknowledgment, repeating the action. Mattheo’s eyes roll in the back of his head and he knows he’s not going to last long.

When you cup his balls, rolling them lightly in one hand as you deep throat him and hollow out your cheeks, Mattheo can’t even stop himself before he’s shooting hot ropes down your throat.

You continue to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks out again and milking him for all has. Your hand is back at what won’t fit in your mouth.

“Fuck, Princess, no more, I can’t,” he hissed through his teeth, grip tightening in your hair. You feel his thighs twitch under your palm but you don’t stop, wanting to push him just a little bit farther.

His eyes roll to the back of his head and his upper lip quivers, you hum along his shaft, tapping his thigh to silently tell him to look at you.

He stares down at you, eyes glazed over with lustful stupidity and that’s when you slowly drag him from your mouth with an obscene pop. You give one last long lick from base to tip before kissing his hip, grasping on to his forearm to help you stand up.

Mattheo is still spent, leaning against the tile wall with shaky legs, one hand on your hip while the other cups your cheeks.

“You tryna kill me, Princess? Where the fuck did that come from?” He’s breathless as he strokes your cheek lovingly.

You shrug your shoulder slightly as your wrap your arms around his waist, “Just saying thank you.” You batted your eyelashes, doing your best to look innocent.

Mattheo used his thumb to tilt your head up slightly, slotting his lips with yours. It was slow and sweet, his lips wet and heavy against yours. When he pulled away you found yourself lifting to your tip toes trying to chase after him.

He chuckled slightly at your response, thumb tapping playfully at your bottom lip, “Cmon, love. Let’s get dressed before the rest of the lads get in and then we can go back to my dorm and I can,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “return the favor.”

You slapped his chest playfully, “Cheeky offer, but you don’t have to do that. I’m more than happy with what transpired just now.”

Mattheo smiled your favorite dimpled smile as he grabbed a handful of your ass, “Oh, love, but I want to.”

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if you're not underlined i did try to tag you and it didn't pop up, sozz loves :(

#saving grace #saving grace series #saving grace part 6 #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #golden era

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jamesandthedog · 8 months

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"She's cute, right?" James asks.

He's staring across the room.

Sirius moves his knight on the chess board and follows James' gaze. He laughs when he sees the red-head Lily Evans chatting with her friends on the other side of their common room.

"What?" James asks.

Sirius glances at him.

They're thirteen and it's the first time James really talks about girls. And even if girls and dates and kisses are new and not particularly something Sirius is interested in, he knows the rules. He was taught before he even understood what dating a girl meant.

"She's a Muggleborn," Sirius shrugs as he states the obvious.

"So?"

There's defiance in James voice, it reminds Sirius of the times he used to refer the likes of Lily Evans with much worse vocabulary. It was James and their friends to make him change his ways.

Sirius sighs.

"It's fine by me," he says, honestly. "But I doubt your parents would approve."

James frowns. At first Sirius thinks he's acknowledged the problem and trying to come up with a way to pursuit his crush without his parents ever finding out. And really, how could they, James doesn't have cousins to tell on him.

But it's not that. James looks at him the way he does when he's trying to read deep into his mind. Like James did when they had their first discussions about blood supremacy. Or when Sirius was walking funny after last summer break. He had hurt his back falling down the stairs after an argument with his mother, but that wasn't the sort of thing to discuss with... Anyone really.

James' expression clears, he leans back and makes his move on the chess board.

"Your parents want you to marry a pureblood," James states.

Sirius shrugs.

"Of course. Yours don't?"

"Dad would probably prefer if I'd marry a Muggleborn. She could teach him how to use the Muggle box he bought for warming up food," James says.

Sirius stares at him, and it has nothing to do with the said Muggle device. He'd look more surprised, but he learned to hide his feelings years ago.

He knows James' family thinks Muggleborns can do anything a pureblood can. But it's one thing to treat people equally on the streets, another to break something as holy as the pure bloodline.

Sirius had thought marrying a pureblood was given, a duty, a fact, something every pureblood did. But here he is, looking at the heir of the Potter family - an heir who clearly doesn't follow any of the rules Sirius had been taught since the day he was born.

As Sirius looks at James, he realises it looks like freedom. Not that Sirius even really cares about girls and marriage, but for the first time he sees that James truly has everything. Money, brains, parents who send him sweets and chocolate even when he doesn't ask for it. But more than that, James has options. He can choose his future.

"Are you ok?" James asks bringing Sirius back from his thoughts.

"Yeah." He answers before focusing on the chess board again. "But if I have to marry someone like Carrow and you get to choose, the least you can do is to lose the game!"

His knight eats James' horse.

"Hey, it's not that bad." James says comfortingly and moves his queen out of the way. Then he grins and Sirius knows he's up to no good.

"You can choose too. If you don't want Carrow you can always take one of your cousins," James suggests as sincerely as a mischievous pre-teen can.

The sofa cushion hits James before he has time to dodge, and then the chess pieces fly around as Sirius reaches over the sofa table to James.

When Remus Lupin descends to the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later, his two friends are a messy, wrestling and laughing pile of loosened ties and wrinkled ropes on the floor.

He shakes his head and sits on the sofa after removing a few misplaced chess pieces. He takes a fat book out of his bag and continues his day as if two wrestling thirteen-year-olds in his feet were nothing but an ordinary day.

As he reads Sirius launches from the floor to find a safe haven next to him - James knows better than to bother his reading. When the long haired boy leans his head against Remus' shoulder and shows his tongue at James, something extraordinary happens. Nobody notices, but the corners of Remus Lupin's lips turn into a smile behind his book.

Sirius Black has many things to learn and unlearn during his Hogwarts years. And dating girls - or not dating them - is definitely one of those.

#sirius back #james potter #remus lupin #marauders fanfic #short story #hp fanfic #marauders fanfiction #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #my writings #writings

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ewanmitchelll · 3 months

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Imagine Taylor Swift Songs (XV): Enchanted.

Imagine Lord Aemond Targaryen courts you amidst the rumors he’s been linked to Lady Alys Rivers.

Warnings: drama, fluff.

Warnings 2: alternative universe where no civil war happens, notwithstanding the silent rivalry between the Valeryons and the Targaryens.

***

• (I)

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles. Same old tired, lonely place, walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy… Vanished when I saw your face. All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you…

You are an illegitimate daughter of Lord Daemon Targaryen who was promptly taken by King Viserys to live at the royal court. Because you have the same age of Lord Aemond, one his youngest children, you are raised by their side under the careful gaze of his Queen.

Notwithstanding her enmity to your father, whom you see rarely—especially after his marriage to Lady Laena Velaryon—, she’s grown attached to you, a sentiment you reciprocate.

It could not be otherwise. You are great friends with the Greens and as much as you appreciate the fanciful robes and education, like any other dragon whom you share the blood with, you feel locked up at a cage.

You are there when Helaena reclaims her dragon as well as Aegon and even the Velaryon boys—Jacaerys, Lucerys…—but you and Aemond are the only ones without one to ride. This is perhaps what brings you to him.

“You are very quiet”, Aemond muses one of these days where he and you share a lesson under the same tutor designated by Queen Alicent. “What troubles you, Y/N?”

“I am often quiet, Aemond”, you shrug your shoulders.

“This is not true”, he insists, poking your side until he gets a smile out of your lips.

“It is! You know how introspective I can be.”

“No more than my sister Helaena”, Aemond teases you.

You turn at him, in contemplative state.

��Have you ever wondered what’s the world outside like? What lies beyond these pillars of stones?”

“I have… If I had a dragon to reclaim, this question would have been long answered.”

“I doubt it. We are tied to our families, my dear”, and by that you mean your uncle’s since you resent your father has not given you any short notice.

Seeing it through you, Aemond realizes you two have more in common than he’d judged.

“True, but my path is mine”, he says with conviction.

You smile at him, pleased to find in your cousin a proper companion. Aemond, on his turn, is enchanted to think likewise. A bond has formed.

***

• (II)

Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?". 'Cross the room your silhouette, starts to make its way to me. The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy…

Aemond is there to encourage you when the situation to reclaim your dragon presents itself. Both of you are in your late teenager days and it has been a while since your favored companion claimed Vhagar, which resulted in a permanent feud with your half-sisters and the Velaryons. Disregarding it such, at their horror, you stood by his side.

And now the one-eyed prince leads you to Dragonstone where a silver dragon awaits, wild and with no rider to claim it.

“There you have it”, you hear him say. “The key to your aimed freedom.”

You turn at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Oh, Aemond Targaryen. You are the death of me.”

Hands tied behind his back, the composed prince nods his head before chuckling.

“Hardly, my dear. Off you go. No tips. You must do it yourself.”

It’s when your willfulness disappears and Aemond spots fear taking its place. As he takes your side, the silver haired prince seeks to encourage you like you’ve always done to him.

In this quiet twilight where birds are not singing and no other sounds are heard, it feels as if the world holds its breath. You are remembered of the comparisons made between you and your father by malicious courtiers, the look of disdain perceived in Otto Hightower’s gaze due to your station and whom you are related to.

Aemond knows where this reluctance comes from. He watches you, his lingering gaze capturing the lines of concern that form in your eyes when you narrow your gaze at the wild beast that dangerously sets its pace around the abandoned hill where no peasant nor nobleman sets their foot.

His gaze moves to how you chew your bottom lip, how you barely breathe, paralyzed by the insecurity he too was once familiar to. Wind blows against your hair, wildly loose this day. It is as if nature takes hold of your spirit for you clench your jaw.

Aemond smiles to himself.

“Go on, lass! I know you can do it!”

When you turn your head, not minding the mess your hair is, you and the prince exchange a long look, sharing a secretive smile.

A soul recognizes in another. You and him know it, as if a spell has been casted to charm you to him—and, unbeknownst to you, him to you—, that synchrony is not a proper word to describe your bond.

But encouraged by him this is the time to leave your sentiments aside, that now have become evident to you. Ignoring the fear that flashes before the prince’s good eye, you step proudly to the silver dragon with long, pointed tail and shade of dark silver coloring its wings.

The creature is a young adult with yellow flaring eyes that cast a disdain look at you. It takes little time before it reads your intentions. Aemond watches, frozen, as the flying beast throws its head back and spits fire.

“Fuck!”, he curses under his breath, unwilling to admit he could have followed you closely and helped you in mounting the said creature.

“Y/N!”, Aemond yells. “Be careful! Look at its eyes with no fear!”

Without looking back, you respond something he cannot understand. Aemond pales, giving a look at Vhagar, who doesn’t stand too far. The older dragon opens only an eye as if it’s to say “your problem, not mine”, drifting back to sleep leaving Aemond grumbling to himself.

In truth, the elements of riding this young adult dragon are not in your favor. The creature is a product of wildnerness, and only the Gods can tell how on seven hells it appeared there. Thus, away of human care, it would prove difficult to settle easily with anyone who attempted to tame it.

Regardless, you are well versed in draconian studies to be easily frightened off.

“I am my father’s daughter”, you tell yourself.

Twice, the dragon tries to burn you alive. Perceiving you as a threat, this only makes difficult for you to approach.

Aemond, as a watcher, fears for you. He forgets to breathe when seeing you fearlessly facing the silver dragon.

Two steps he gives, decided to rescue you when he is surprised by your confident yells:

“Lykiri, Silverlightning!”

The dragon hesitates at first, however, understanding the command said in Old Valyrian, promptly bows its head.

Aemond smiles widely, proud of you as you climb the dragon you claimed and start to fly.

Indeed, a thought occurs the prince, you are every inch Lord Daemon’s daughter.

***

• (III)

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew. I was enchanted to meet you…

You and Aemond are flying high this night with nothing but the moon and stars as witnesses. In spite of the great difference between their dragons, harmony is felt, synchronized in perfect balance.

“How on earth do you manage to fly dressed on your gown? This is impossible!”, you hear Aemond muse loud.

He smiles at the sight of you throwing your head back and laughing. Nothing warms his heart more than being the cause of the delight he sees sparkling in your eyes.

“A lady always has her tricks and shares them with no one”, you answer him over your shoulder, winking at him.

Under the moon light, your dragon and Aemond’s pair up like two skilled dancers. There, up in the air, liberty is tasted at its highest. Titles are casted aside, privileges forgotten, obligations neglected…

You and him can be yourselves. Simply dragon riders.

Eventually, though, you two must land. Once you do, Aemond insists in helping you going down. As he does, his hands take a little while around your waist.

It’s when you notice how tall he is in comparison to you.

“You look pretty, lady”, he whispers. “I like when your hair is down like this.”

Wind is still blowing, albeit weakly, against your curls, and you are struggling to keep them down. You smile at his words.

“Oh, lord. I fear you are flattering me…”

“This is not a trait I possess, I’m afraid”, he smiles in his own way and you like the view. “You’ve grown to be a very handsome woman, Y/N. Your wit has sharpened as well, and you possess virtues I admire.”

Aemond can tell how his words affect you. The way your eyes go slight wide, the dimples forming in your cheeks, how slowly your lips twist in a smile that brightens your face. His heart races. But something stops him of moving further.

Yet, whatever occupies his thoughts is distracted of the pink that paints your cheeks and how shyly you seek out of his hand.

“You are an expertise in making any lady speechless. I wish I was poet so I could give voice to how I feel about you”, you avoid his gaze, leaving your bluntness with your dragon. “However, I cannot let you go back inside without assuring you that I have no one to hold dearer in my most deep affections than you, my lord.”

You raise your eyes and meet his. Aemond is bewildered by your words, captivated by the depth of your sentiments that these could at least partially transmit even though he sees it in your eyes.

Drowned in them, the prince is dragged to meet your soul. It feels like home. Gravity pulls him to you. He lifts your chin, holding it still and there is a mutual expectation concerning the next steps.

His lips are short distanced of yours, and you can smell his sweet breath. Your eyes linger to his red-ish mouth as his stare into yours. His long, paled and callous hand strokes your cheek and you are transmitted, in turn, the darkness within that paves bad choices and poorly closed wounds.

Nevertheless you remain.

“How sacred is the bond that links us”, he whispers before finally holding your face dear and kisses you fiercely, but slowly.

You gasp in delight at the clash of your lips against his, at the dragon smell of his body that mixed with the scent of yours, at how close, but not seemingly enough, one is with the other.

Every barrier is knocked down as his tongue snakes in your mouth, pairing perfectly with yours, dominating in a sweet, vicious kiss. You fear to lose your breath, thus holding onto him for balance.

As the kiss deepens, your hands grow confident. Soon, your hands move up to his hair, feeling his locks slipping through your fingers as you hold them tight, earning him a sigh.

The danger posed by this unexpected and secret meeting is the fire that might come out of a spark. Aemond feels it in you, thus parting it before he lets it lose within.

When you meet his gaze, there is no need to speak. Even so you need reassurances.

“Will I see you again?”

Aemond takes your hand and there presses a kiss. Only then he answers, when looking into your eyes:

“Yes, my dear Y/Nickname. How can it be otherwise?”

You smile, completely charmed, completely enchanted to be with him.

***

• (IV)

The lingering question kept me up. 2 AM, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake and now I'm pacing back and forth. Wishing you were at my door. I'd open up and you would say, "Hey"…

It so appears that Daemon Targaryen has the bad habit of carrying bad omens wherever he goes. A judgement of his enemies that you cannot not think at times.

He barely arrives and all the distrust between him and his brother’s second wife’s family threatens to disrupt in something worse.

Leaving politics aside, though, he does not look very pleased at the thought of you being courted by Lord Aemond.

“I am nothing but the daughter of a whore”, you snap at him when he comes to you and rather leaves clear his opinions on the courtship—and only Gods know by what means he was informed of your liaison with the prince your cousin since neither had made it official. “Is it not what you have always been told? Is it not why I was left under the king’s piety?”

Your father stares at you in complete disbelief. Now residing at Dragonstone, he’s taken as wife Princess Rhaenyra, who’s been acknowledged only recently as the heiress to the Iron Throne.

“These people have been poisoning your ears. I’ve always told my brother about the danger of having you raised here. Do not speak ill of your mother, she was a good woman.”

“This is untrue. The Queen is kind to me and her children are like my family. At least they are far more like brothers and sisters than the ones I have by full blood.”

Daemon strokes his cheek, reclined against the chair he occupies. You two are at his privy bedchambers and though he appears to be relaxed, you know there’s a tempest forming behind his lilac eyes.

“I admit I should have brought you to be raised with Rhaela and Baela, but my brother, the king, took an especial interest in raising you.”

“And I am not being ungrateful about that”, you scoff. “I love my uncle dearly, but you have not been present when I needed most. You cannot tell me who I may or may not get myself involved with…”

“Oh yes, I may”, he interrupts you, to your consternation. “Especially when my good nephew has been spotted at Harrenhal at the company of a woman named Alys Rivers. It appears that he’s taken a special liking to bastards.”

You blush furiously at this amount of informations, but more so when he highlighted your status.

“If I brought you shame, father, you can say so. But do not offend…”

“Since when speaking truths mean offense?”, Daemon loses his patience at last. “All I wanted was to provide you security, girl! But the Hightowers have turned you in a soft young woman who takes as token the poisonous words of a libertine!”

“And do you think you have the morals to exempt yourself of it?” Part of you refuses to believe in him. “Separating myself from you and never writing me a letter to know how I was fairing… Certainly after the incident where Aemond lost an eye contributed to your getting away. But no matter. The King has been a better father than you ever were!”

You have no idea how high your voice was and how hurt you have become through the years. As you storm off, you recollect how, at the day of Lady Laena Velaryon’s burial, you were looked down by the said lady’s mother. You’ve always felt despised for being a natural product of your father with an old flame.

As you rush to the outdoors, you miss Aemond’s going back from wherever he’d been through. He is following Aegon when he spots a shadow of a storm crossing the corridors.

“I wonder what has left Y/N so upset”, the prince thinks out loud.

Aegon chuckles dryly.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Our dear uncle has come to bring some more scandals. Like always, set to leave a path of troubles.”

“And what he has done now?”, Aemond inquires in between annoyance and interest.

Aegon gives his younger brother a mischievous grin.

“He took as third wife our sister, Rhaenyra.”

Aemond watches as you land with Silverlightning. The bond you two formed has strengthened with the time. Your hair, always lose, is a mess by the wind, but today it looks like a veil under which you hide.

You also notice that you dress an old green gown of his mother, which he thinks that matches you fine, reinforcing your delicate features at the same time that leaves to notice the beauty of your curves.

Clearing his throat to dissipate these thoughts, the prince moves to where you stand. Once wind stops howling, he says:

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you feel sorry about?”

“Your father’s latest scandal has been the talk of court.”

You snarl at him.

“Oh, that.”

It occurs Aemond that something else upsets you, which prevents you to look back at him. He lowers his gaze, ashamed for a moment. Silence hangs awkwardly between the two of you until the prince dares to break it.

“You have not been yourself lately and I was not there to watch over you”, he apologizes, trying to short the distance that has been growing between you.

You cast the prince a look and he sees pain in it, which leaves him in tormented.

“My lady, your silence is like a sharp dagger”, he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze.

Part of you wishes to get him answers. Another one refuses it. Where, however, do you stay? You look at this man, your childhood companion who grew to be the only one you love. Once upon a time these nights flying in your dragons, where you were enchanted in sharing this great intimacy with someone like him.

Now you question yourself whether this had been an illusion you fed.

As you open your mouth to finally inquire about the rumors that have been snaking into your mind and forming a nest of paranoia, you are interrupted by the presence of the Queen.

“My children”, she greets you warmly and you smile instantly. Alicent has occupied the left vacancy post of your mother, something which you are thankful for. “We are receiving guests this evening. The king, your father, wishes you to partake the feast. Better get yourselves dressed.”

Aemond pulls a face, but this is the only sign of displeasure he shows, not being a fan of such ceremonies. But before he protests to have a chance to speak with you, the Queen steals you away.

“I understand the presence of your father here might be delicate to you”, she says as you two step away. “Believe me, dear Y/N, it is delicate to me as well. It was a never a secret that I dislike my brother-in-law.”

Somehow the crude honesty in her words makes you chuckle.

“And yet you have welcomed here, my lady, being the mother I was deprived of.”

The Queen smiles fondly at you, stroking your hand gently as you two walk arm-in-arm.

“The children are not blamed for their father’s sins. And you are not sinful by all means, Y/N. I mean to tell you this because I am playing a good effort in receiving him and your siblings here too. Rhaenyra and I, as you know, are good friends. She has yet to meet you properly, but the princess has confided me the wishes of having you living with her and your father at Dragonstone.”

You stop by the corridors at what you heard. In truth, you hold nothing against Princess Rhaenyra as you hardly had some concept against her predecessor, disregarding some prejudices concerning your illegitimacy. However, this is all new.

“I’ve always assumed I was unwanted somehow”, you confide the queen in a whisper.

The Queen turns at you gently and holds your face with a maternal look. She sees your unspoken wounds and makes sure to amend them. Or try to.

“My darling, you are not unwanted. Do not think yourself as such. You are a dragon, the king ensured to legitimate you for this purpose. You are a great dragon rider. I have heard Aemond telling many good things of you to Aegon”, she smiles widely when spotting a blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Mother…”

“You are loved here. And whatever decision you make…”

“I am staying with you”, you tell her. “I need no other family.”

The Queen beams at you. She places a kiss over your forehead before saying:

“I appreciate my darling. But even so I must insist in that you should tell this decision to your father.”

You find strange that the Queen is playing the peacemaker with her enemy, but this is part of the queenship, so you should not be entirely surprised. Later that day, you two speak no more of it, and you are momentarily distracted of your current issues.

***

• (V)

This is me praying that. This was the very first page not where the story line ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon. I was enchanted to meet you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you…

You are taking a moment by yourself when your father approaches.

“We didn’t start well”, says he, watching as you stand and look at him, surprised to find him there. “I always thought my brother, the king, had stolen you from me. He said I was unfit to look after you, my child. This does not excuse my poor choices, but somehow I wanted the best for you.”

You tilt your head, weighing the words he said. Considering what you know regarding his behavior, you find no lies. Nonetheless, you’ve been in a distrustful mood, considering the whole Aemond’s possibly affair with a lady named Alys Rivers.

“I was raised here. The king and the queen were very good to me”, you find sensible to omit Otto Hightower’s despise.

Daemon studies you. Though calmer you may be, he can still see you like a mirror. The looks, the snarks, the self defense… Every inch like him.

“We can still amend it. The princess would like to spend more time with you. Your sisters likewise.”

You scoff.

“Baela and Rhaena don’t speak to me since I stood for Aemond many years ago.”

“Not the wisest move, but I am hardly a model for anything of the sort.” He snorts. “There is still time to consider… Y/N.”

Daemon watches as you merely nod your head, moving to Silverlightening. He side smirks as you ride graciously, dressed in silk. At times he’s remembered of the woman he first loved, your mother. These are the times he wishes to go back in past and be a more decent man.

But this Targaryen rogue has few—if any—regrets to collect. Even so, as you fly, he knows he will have you back. All he needs is the precious thing he lost: time.

Aemond finds you this evening, anxious to resolve all that has to be resolved. He couldn’t find you all day, frustrated for having you removed out of his sight—but never out of his mind.

“Y/N!”, he cries your name out the moment you land with Silverlightening.

You freeze as your Achilles heal comes at you. Aemond has grown to a fine, good looking man who, despite his bad reputation, has been nothing but kind to you, protective and more.

“I fear that I’m losing you”, he doesn’t wait to formalities. “I understand it has reached you the rumors about me and a woman named Alys Rivers.”

Aemond can tell there is much to be said, but none of it reaches your tongue. Nonetheless, he must clear once for all before it’s too late.

“She was once my mistress, I will not deny that”, says he, pained as you flinch quietly. “But this is no more. I am yours, and yours alone. I was never besotted with a woman like her…Her name hardly ever occupied my thoughts.”

You will not deny yourself that for a while you wished he never loved anyone else, that you secretly prayed that no one would be waiting for him as you two danced with your dragons in the night.

But now you are confused.

“What are you telling me, Aemond?”

“I fucking love you, Y/N Targaryen!”

That being said, he takes your face with his long hands and kisses your lips intently so, fearful of letting you slip through his fingertips.

“Oh Aemond”, you sigh in content, a smile set on your face dispersing every fear, every insecurity.

Red is his face. Aemond is usually careful, mindful of his sentiments, which are normally on check. Hardly the one prompted to impulsiveness, to be ruled by his passions—he is the epithet of lucidity amidst his siblings.

Where reason doesn’t see, though, a deep ocean of feelings is felt. And you gleefully dive in as you pull him back to kiss his lips.

“I was always enchanted to be with you”, he whispers, his lips inch away from yours, forehead resting against yours, eyes closed. “I was a fool for never making my feelings clear.”

“Better late than ever”, you smile at him in great contentment. “All is well that ends well with you.”

As he locks fingers with you, there lies the certainty of never letting you go.

“Be my wife”, Aemond murmurs and you are amused by his demanding tone.

“You are not asking”, you giggle.

“No.”

“Of course not. If you vow to me that you are not going back with this woman.”

It’s Aemond who laughs now.

“Clearly not, Y/N. If I shall take the love of my existence as consort, then I best offer you what’s the best of me…”

You throw your hands around his neck.

“Then you better take me away and make me your wife, Aemond Targaryen.”

***

• Epilogue. (Perpetual peace)

With Rhaenyra crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, relations between the Targaryens have altered significantly.

One of which concerns how you and your father managed to overcome obstacles in your relationship thanks to the mediation of the new Queen, who also consented in having you married to Lord Aemond.

This day, thus, is one of the many celebrations the Queen and her consort, your father, are giving on your behalf. There are many tournaments and a great feast is held on your wedding day.

It is curious how by amending his relationship with you, by extent you make peace with your half-sisters and even towards the Velaryon boys. Despite preferring Helaena’s company, soon you and Baela find that riding a dragon is something both of you enjoy—amidst other common tastes.

As for Aemond, he admits that uncle Daemon is one whom he often looks up. Thanks to you, this is a bond that will get stronger with time.

“You better not break my daughter’s heart”, the rogue prince says in a very serious tone. “I have many flaws, but do not underestimate my iron will in protecting my family.”

And then he takes his son by marriage in a tender embrace. You could not have your cheeks any redder after it.

“Dear Gods”, you mumble, all the whilst you watch them exchange amenities.

As you take your seat at the high table and your husband follows you, for the bedding ceremony is about to be announced in that boisterous manner, you both enjoy the last reminiscent of brief silence.

“My lady wife”, Aemond takes your hand to his lips and there presses a kiss. “I don’t think I ever told you how I was enchanted to meet you the day my late father brought you to us.”

Your face is bright red, much to his delight. The one eyed prince side smirks at you, still kissing your delicate fingertips. You tilt your head to the side, eyeing him devotedly.

“My lord husband”, you chew the new word and it gives you butterflies on your stomach. “So was I. The moment I saw you, I knew you were mine.”

“Indeed”, he whispers. “I shall be eternally yours if you have me.”

You lean towards him, lips barely touching his.

“As am I.”

But no word is spoken as the already drunk prince consort announces this is it. It’s time for husband and wife to be… well, husband and wife.

The bedding ritual thus begins.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #Aemond one-eyed #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x female reader #lord Aemond #prince Aemond #house of the dragon #house targaryen #taylor swift #enchanted #speak now (taylor’s version)#daemon Targaryen

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daenysthedreamer101 · 1 month

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Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 1 - To King's Landing

Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong (eventually lol)

Warnings: none

Prologue

Masterlist

"In 107 AC, the King held a seven-day celebration in honor of Princess Rhaenyra's tenth name day. The young Princess was named 'the Realm's Delight' by the minstrels at court. Rhaenyra was a precocious child, bright, bold and beautiful. She became a dragon rider at only seven years old, riding her yellow she-dragon, Syrax. The tourney would also mark the return of Prince Daemon to King's Landing. He spent most of his time away in the Vale, with his lady wife, Rhea Royce, and their young daughter, Princess Daena.

Princess Daena was a lively, cheerful girl only a year younger than her cousin, Rhaenyra. She became a proficient huntress in thanks to her lady mother. Some at court frowned, saying it was inappropriate for a lady to hunt down animals and cover herself in dirt and blood, but Rhea and Daemon paid them no mind, letting their daughter do what she liked. 'She's not just a lady...she's a Princess of House Targaryen. Dragons don't fear blood' Prince Daemon was heard saying in defense of his daughter."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

107 AC, King's Landing

This was Daena's second time visiting King's Landing. Well third, if you count the time her parents brought her when she was a baby so that her great-grandparents, King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne could meet their newest great-granddaughter. It was said the Good Queen wept tears of joy when she held Daena in her hands for the first time. The Queen was old and frail, having to walk with a cane. Nonetheless, the Queen gave her blessing and proclaimed that Daena would be a great beauty one day.

Now, Daena and her father, Prince Daemon, were visiting King's Landing once again. This time because of her cousin Rhaenyra. Her uncle, King Viserys I, was holding a great tourney in honor of Rhaenyra's 10th name day. Even after 14 years of marriage, Viserys and his wife, Queen Aemma Arryn, only had one living child - Rhaenyra. The King was known for spoiling his only child with many things, and "seven days of celebration for her name day seemed only appropriate", according to His Grace.

Daena spent much of her childhood at Runestone. She was taught how to ride a horse and hunt with a bow and arrow by her lady mother, Rhea Royce. Her mother was a strong, intelligent woman and was the ruling Lady of Runestone. Daena was very proud to be her daughter and always strived to make her mother proud. Daena didn't look much like her mother. She looked more like her father's side of the family. With fair skin, long silver hair, and lilac eyes, she looked nothing short of a true Targaryen Princess. Nonetheless, she knew she had many other things in common with her dear mother.

Her mother didn't join them. She said she needed to look after Runestone, that it was her duty. But even as a child, Daena knew it was because her mother never liked her father and she simply didn't want to spend time with him. It made Daena sad, that her parents disliked each other, but they tried to be cordial with one another for her sake. She once asked her parents if she would ever get a sibling. Her mother choked on her wine while her father frowned and told her not to be silly and ask stupid questions. She never asked again.

"Are we there yet?" Daena asked Amanda, one of her mother's nieces who went South with them. Lady Amanda was from the cadet branch of House Royce - House Royce of the Gates of the Moon. Amanda was a pretty maid of 16 summers. Nearly a woman grown, Lady Rhea sent her young niece to King's Landing to look after her daughter and also for a potential marriage.

Amanda had long dark brown hair and round brown eyes. Daena liked her very much. She was fun and kind and taught Daena how to sew. "We'll be there in a short while, Princess," Amanda answered while looking out from the small carriage window.

Daena didn't like that she was in a carriage. She wanted to fly with her father on Caraxes but he refused her, saying she was too young. So, she would travel by carriage. She looked out the window and saw a giant castle made of red stone.

"The Red Keep..." Daena whispered under her breath. She has never seen King's Landing. She did visit in 101 AC, when her great-grandfather, Jaehaerys passed away. But she didn't remember much from that whole ordeal. She only remembered that everyone was sad and quiet.

Daena was 9 years old and slightly taller than most girls her age. She was thin and slender and had long silver hair she liked to keep in a single long braid. Father said it made her look like Queen Visenya. Daena would love nothing more than to be like the legendary Visenya.

"Do you think Rhaenyra will let me see Syrax?" Daena quietly asked Amanda. She would never admit it, but she was a bit jealous that Rhaenyra had a dragon. Daena's dark purple egg never hatched. She still had it, it was held back at Runestone, but she didn't like looking at it.

It made her sad and angry. Some kids back at Runestone would mock her and call her Daena the Dragonless. The words of her mother's House were 'We remember' and in keeping with that, she never forgot or forgave the people who mocked her. She hoped that since she was in King's Landing, she could claim an already hatched dragon.

"I'm not sure...Perhaps a bit later." Amanda said cautiously. She knew how important dragons were to the Targaryens and it hurt her to see Daena so sad.

"Open the gates!" A guard shouted. They were already there. They were about to enter the Red Keep! Daena sat up straight and smoothed her red and black silk dress. Her silver hair was braided at the top to look like a crown. Small ruby earrings dangled like blood droplets from her ears. The gates were opened and the carriage entered the courtyard.

The doors of the carriage opened and Daena could see her father dismounting his horse. A page boy helped her get out. Once her feet hit the ground, a guard announced them.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen and his daughter, Princess Daena!" Her father beckoned her over and so she quickly walked over to him. He put his arm around her little shoulders.

"Prince Daemon...Welcome..."A voice said. She finally focused on the person standing in front of the castle doors. It was Ser Otto Hightower - the Hand of the King.

"Princess..." He greeted her as well, though he sounded and looked like he didn't want to be there. She didn't curtsy to the lord, she didn't have to as a Princess. She felt her father protectively pulling her closer to him.

"Ser Otto...", her father managed to say through gritted teeth. Even as a child, she could tell the two men heavily disliked each other.

"Amanda, take Daena inside. Visit the Queen if you can. I'm sure Her Grace would like that" Daemon told Amanda. The young Royce girl nodded and took Daena's hand and they walked inside. Once they reached the Queen's chambers, they entered the spacious room.

"Princess Daena, Your Grace", a maid announced Daena. The Queen was heavily pregnant and was sitting on a chaise lounge in front of a big window and was propped up by lots of pillows. Her silver hair was down and fell freely. She wore only a nightdress and a pretty, pink, embroidered silk robe. The Queen turned her head and smiled lightly at her young niece.

"Daena, my dear...How you've grown. I haven't seen you in ages." Aemma said softly as she looked over Daena. The young princess curtsied to Aemma. The Queen beckoned her and gave her a warm hug.

"Your Grace," Daena said politely.

"Come, sit here." Aemma gestured to a nearby chair. Daena sat. Aemma looked over Daena's shoulder and saw a pretty brunette in the corner. Daena noticed.

"Your Grace, this is Lady Amanda Royce of the Gates of the Moon. She's my cousin. She came here with me, I hope you don't mind." Daena introduces Amanda to the Queen.

"No, not at all. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady" Aemma greets the Royce girl.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Grace. Thank you for having me" Amanda says and bows to Aemma. The Queen and Daena talk for a while, about the Vale, about Runestone, and how much Daena has grown.

"If I may ask...where is my dear cousin Rhaenyra? I haven't seen her yet." Daena asks after a while. Aemma sighs and fans herself with a fan.

"I believe she's having her lesson with Septa Marlow" Aemma explained. Daena hums in acknowledgment.

"Princess Rhaenyra", a maid announces after a while. In came Daena's older cousin. She was fair-skinned with pretty purple eyes. She was a bit shorter than Daena, but they both had long silver hair.

"Cousin! It's been so long!" Rhaenyra greeted Daena with a warm smile and a tight hug.

"Nyra!" Daena exclaimed in joy. Rhaenyra greeted her mother and they talked for a few minutes.

"Come, dear cousin. Let's go for a walk." Rhaenyra suggests and takes Daena by the hand.

"Your Grace, I hope you have a nice day." Daena bid the Queen politely. Aemma smiled sadly at the two girls.

Daena and Rhaenyra were walking in the Royal Gardens in the afternoon sun. They sat under the weirwood and talked for hours. In the distance Ser Harrold Westerling, Rhaenyra's sworn shield, was keeping guard. At sundown, Amanda came around and told them they were summoned for supper with the King.

"Will you show me Syrax one day?" Daena asks.

"Of course, I would love to, " Rhaenyra answers.

"We can even fly together once she gets big enough" Nyra adds.

Once they were ready, Ser Harrold escorted them to the dining chamber where they were to have supper. As they entered, Daena could see her uncle, the King, sitting at the head of the table. To his right was his wife, Queen Aemma, who looked tired. To his left was her father, Prince Daemon. To Aemma's right was Princess Rhaenys and her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon - the Sea Snake. Daena was surprised to see them there. Shaking her head, she sat next to her father. Nyra sat next to her.

"Girls, we've been waiting for you for some time," King Viserys says lightly scolding the girls.

"Forgive us, father. We were talking and we got distracted." Nyra says sheepishly. Viserys smiles and looks over to his niece.

"Ah, Daena...I haven't seen you since you were a toddler. How you've grown..." Viserys says to Daena. She smiled awkwardly and the food was served. The adults talked amongst themselves. Daena and Rhaenyra quietly traded gossip with one other. Daena tried her best not to look at the Sea Snake and his wife. Rhaenys was her aunt, but she always found the woman kind of scary, though she would never admit it.

After supper, Daena bid her cousin goodbye and left with her father to their chambers.

"I'll see you in the morning Nyra" Daena says and hugs Nyra. She and her father enter her chambers.

"Wow..." Daena gasps as she sees her room. Her chambers back at Runestone weren't nearly as big.

"I already told the maids to fix you up a bath," Daemon says to her. He walks over to her and pets her head, caressing her silver hair. She hugs his waist and looks up at him with tired eyes. He smiles at her.

"Issi ao ēdrugī, riñītsos?" (Are you tired, little girl?) He asks her. She nods her head.

"Come here..." He says and picks her up easily and puts her down on the bed. He starts unbraiding her hair. He knew most men wouldn't even consider doing something like this. He didn't think he had it in him to be like this. So soft, and gentle...and caring. But the second he held her when she was born...he knew he would do anything for her. He would burn the entire world if it meant she was safe and sound.

Once he was done unbraiding her hair, he turned her head toward him. He studied her face. She looked just like him. Silver hair, lilac eyes, it was all him. But she had her mother's oval face. He didn't like his wife, whatsoever. But she helped him create Daena. His precious Princess. His little girl. His little dragon.

"I'll call Amanda. She'll help you bathe." He told her and got up to leave. Before he was able to leave, she caught him and pulled him by the sleeve of his shirt. He bent down to her level.

"What is it, sweet girl?" He asked her.

"Sȳz bantis kepa. Avy jorrāelan" (Good night Father. I love you) she told him sleepily and planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled once again and kissed her silver hair.

"Avy jorrāelan tolī, dōna riña" (I love you too, sweet girl). He told her and left her chamber.

---

High Valyrian:

Issi ao ēdrugī, riñītsos? - Are you tired, little girl?

Sȳz bantis Kepa. Avy jorrāelan - Good night Father. I love you.

Avy jorrāelan tolī, dōna riña - I love you too, sweet girl.

***

Omg, the first chapter is finally here! It's mostly an introduction to Daena and it establishes many relationships that will develop/deteriorate over time.

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! ❤❤❤

If you have any opinions feel free to comment!

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tantalizingtopi · 4 months

Text

Last Solstice I Gave You My Heart

Gortash x Dark Urge (Claret in this one shot)

Word Count: 1658

Disclaimer: characters are not mine, but Larian Studios for Baldur’s Gate 3

A Bhaalist Tradition (I just made up), one gives the person who has impacted them the most in the last year the heart of one who has slighted them or otherwise caused them grief. Claret had done just that last winter solstice, and her business partner had thrown it away, disgusted. She won’t make the same mistake again.

Claret watches the snow fall outside from her position at the Elfsong tavern, having taken the corner table for herself to drown her sorrows. She had nearly forgotten about last solstice and how she had declared her interest in her business partner, only to find her token of adoration in the garbage, and him annoyed at her for bringing him ‘gory tokens’ when she could just tell him who she killed if he needed to know about it.

She takes another long pull of her ale, knowing that trying to drink her sorrows will amount to nothing. She had taken care to carve out the heart of that man who had dared speak ill of the subject of her affection, how carefully she had removed it, cleaned it, and put it in the perfect packaging.

A Bhaalist tradition, one cuts the heart out of someone who has wronged the creature who has most impacted their life since the last solstice. Lovers give them to one another. This year, Claret is going to give her heart to Ghislev, who has agreed to become the undead Farslayer to further protect the temple. Due to the cult's growing influence in the city, more and more people are trying to find the temple, and security needs to be increased. Ghislev has proven himself to be both worthy of Bhaal and worthy of the honor. He only has asked to have one last winter solstice to be with his lover and to slay the one that has caused them the most grief.

If Claret were crueler, she would’ve picked his lover to be the sacrifice for Ghislev, as he is clearly causing Ghislev grief. Instead, she has killed his cousin, who had spoken out against the cult. She has the heart in her satchel, cleaned and fermenting in a jar with a white satin ribbon that had been soaked in the cousin’s blood. Claret finishes her drink, looking out once more to the heavy flakes. She pulls her cloak on and stands, only to feel a small tug at her side.

“Ma’m, this is for you,” the young errand boy says, holding out a folded note. She takes it and slips the child two silvers which he quickly pockets and bows, before rushing away. Claret unfolds the note and see the neat, tight encrypted lettering of the Banite.

‘Will I see you for Solstice? I have something for you.’

She sneers, crumpling the note. She had planned on stopping by his place for a quick romp after giving Ghislev his heart. But now she wonders if she should give him the satisfaction of seeing her. After all, their last meeting had left a bad taste in her mouth. They weren’t exclusive or anything, and they hadn’t ever vowed to be anything more than business partners, but having him cut her off early so he could go whisper sweet nothings in some patriars ear still hurt her. She didn’t like the way he made her feel in those moments, didn’t know how to handle herself. Their non-relationship was the closest she had ever come to anything remotely long term, previous affairs always ended bloody in one way or another and were exceptionally short-lived.

She leaves the tavern, heading to Ghislev’s home, still unsure of what she would do following her visit with the future farslayer. The streets, earlier bustling with people are nearly empty, save for a few souls hurrying through the storm to their destinations and those unlucky enough to have nowhere else to go but the streets. Still, there were fires in alleyways for those undesirables, and perhaps a few would be fortunate enough to breathe their last breath for Bhaal, as was common for those without someone to give a heart to their god instead.

The snow crunches in under her boots as she nears the small home in which Ghislev shared with his lover. Gods, Claret hates his lover, an arrogant sniveling little man who constantly ridicules Ghislev. She reaches the door and knocks, hearing voices inside.

The door swings open and the snooty face of the high elf gazes down at her. “Oh, it’s you.”

“I just need to see Ghislev for a few moments, Daevin,” Claret says, brushing past him. She didn’t make a habit of social calls, but she had visited them many times, taking a special interest in Ghislev, as he was one of her first recruits when she had first arrived in Baldur’s Gate.

Ghislev turns from the fire to look at her, confusion passing on his face. “Is everything okay?”

“No, things aren’t okay,” Daevin scowls, “you’re interrupting our solstice.”

Claret’s eyes flash, and she has to stifle her urge to sacrifice Daevin to her father right now. She grits her teeth and vows to end him once Ghislev is stationed as farslayer. Her voice comes quiet and low, “Care, Daevin.”

Daevin’s face pales and he says nothing more, but still holds his posture. Claret removes the jar from her satchel and presents it to Ghislev, bowing slightly. Ghislev bows as he takes it, “For me!”

“For you on the night of the most shadow. Your cousin shall not cause harm to you again,” Claret says. “I shall leave you to relish yourself in the night, for all too soon the dawn will come.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Ghislev says, bowing deeply again to her. Claret brings her hood up and steps around Darvin, pausing for just a moment to lock eyes with the elf, watching as he trembles before she whirls out into the night once more.

Claret finds herself in front of Gortash’s workshop, her mind still not made up if she should see him or not. She shifts on her feet, the cold beginning to seep into her boots. She sighs, turning to go when the door swings open to reveal her business partner, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”

He beckons her inside and she hesitates for a moment before giving in and going inside. The workshop is warm and welcoming, and Enver helps her out of her cloak. He hangs it near the hearth as she takes in the space around her with surprise. The hearth’s fire glows brightly, two glasses and a bottle of wine sit on his cleared off workbench along with some meats and cheeses, there is even a scent of cinnamon and cranberries in the air. She eyes him warily, “are you expecting someone?”

“Only you, my murderous beauty,” Enver purrs. She laughs.

“You cleaned this all for me? How long did that take?”

He grins. “Longer than I’d like to admit, if I’m being honest. I wanted to make the longest night special for you— for us. I know how special it is to you, now.”

“It’s just another night, another silly holiday, Enver.”

The smuggler rolls his eyes. “Don’t be flippant, it’s unbecoming.”

“Much about me is unbecoming, which is why you don’t find me mingling in high society all that often,” Claret replies, a grin on her lips.

“Don’t tell me you still upset about the other night,” Enver replies.

“I came here, didn’t I?”

Enver opens the drawer to his workstation and pulls out two ornately wrapped packages and sets them in front of her. “I was planning on giving these to you later, but perhaps it’s best I do this now.”

Claret eyes the boxes in front of her, hearing a soft metallic sound coming from the smaller one, but makes no move to open them. She occasionally gave small trinkets to her business partner, usually tokens from the people she had eliminated on his behalf as per their agreement, but never had he returned the gesture. His acknowledgment of their dealings have been grander gestures, such as torture racks of her ancestors which were now proudly on display in the temple. “What are these?”

“They’re gifts, Claret. For you,” Gortash’s smile doesn’t meet his anxious gaze. “Just open them.”

Claret’s fingers shake slightly as she pulls at the golden ribbon on the first box, the bow unwinding easily. She lifts off the lid and stares inside. “Enver?”

She pulls the glass case from the box and looks at the organ suspended in the middle. He gives her a small smile. “I wasn’t aware of the custom last year, and didn’t know the significance. This is the heart of the man who hit your little urchin girl last tenday in the park. I only hope it begins to make up for the way I mishandled your gesture.”

Claret’s eyes water as she smiles. She had went to find the man and couldn’t. She often gave coins and baubles to the urchins that hung around the park she frequently busked at for a brief escape from the temple. She was self taught and not particularly good, knowing only a small handful of songs, but the street children would dance and play about when she performed and it made her feel like she was doing something nice for them. “Thank you.”

“Open the other one,” he encourages.

She picks up the smaller box and opens it, pulling out a chain from which hangs a tiny metal heart, the intricate device moving—no, she realizes, beating— as if it were a real heart. Enver steps closer and takes the box from her hand, pulling her palm up to rest on his heart. She feels his heartbeat at the same rhythm of the one on the chain. “What is—“

“Claret,” Enver says quickly, his pulse beginning to race under her touch, “you have my heart. I know that our relationship is unorthodox and far from ideal, and that it may be our downfall in the end, but you are the only person I have ever given my heart to, the only person I will ever give it to.”

She presses her lips to his. “Blessed Solstice, Enver.”

“Blessed Solstice, my love.”

#baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #dark urge #durgetash #gortash smut #gortash x durge #lord enver gortash #durgetash beginnings #durge #durge x gortash #smuggler gortash #enver gortash #low key my partner and I both like Enver as a name #for a future offsping

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your-nanas-house · 1 year

Note

Helloooo♥️

Are you taking any requests for Tom?

If so, can I ask for a reader and their brother Tom? You can either make them hate each other or a team that gets along great, or maybe somewhere in between.

Sending you lots of love and happiness 😊

Hi! 🥰 I am and sure thing. Thank you very much, I send you lots of love and happiness back. 🥹❤️

Disgust when you care

(Not my pictures, credit to the owners)

◇ Pairing: Tom Riddle & Twin sister!Reader

◇ Warnings: mention of murder, angst, fluff, machismo, crudely.

◇ Summary: Tom and Y/n Riddle find themselves thinking about their brother-sister relationship.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Also sorry if it took me so long. Also the list I use is not mine so credit to the owner.

Both of the Riddle twins' eyes were fixed on the young Slytherin boy who was holding a paper in his hand while discussing with the other Slytherin followers of Tom who were watching the scene trying to hide the fear of their reaction.

If it had been a day like any other no one would have dared to push into such a personal side of the Riddle twins' lives but it was not a day like any other since earlier there had been a celebration of something with Slughorn during the Slughorn Club to which they had been invited and that was why that bit of courage had come out of that Slytherin boy, probably one of those who had had a little too much to drink during the little party.

There was a perceptible tension in the room that even the tipsy ones could sense as they stared at the two heirs of Slytherin waiting for their reaction as the young man continued to talk about how normal it was to do activities with your siblings and that it is wonderful to have someone of your own blood of your own age. Everyone knew that brother-sister relationship and family were sore points that should not be touched in their presence, which is why everyone started placing bets on who would lose their temper first and drop the mask of neutrality and emptiness that they both wore at the moment.

Strangely, that did not happen but Tom Riddle himself reached out and took the note they had handed them, to start reading the bulleted list they had created, moving it slightly so that Y/n could glance at it as well.

It was a list with all the activities that were recruited as normal and things that ALL siblings did at least once in their lives:

make fun of their parents together

make fun of the other siblings.

take each other's clothes

fight over chores

gossip about cousins

help with mean teachers

help cheat on assignments for school

call each other "bro" and "sis"

There was a prolonged silence as the two wizards studied the items on the list carefully, then cast a glance at each other before shifting their cold eyes to them "childish" they murmured in a synchronized way making everyone change the subject.

As the evening and the party in the common room continued the mood of the two Riddles had totally changed, there was something that looked like anguish or almost fear, it was not obviously perceptible but you could see a glimmer in their eyes that were both still fixed on that list.

○ make fun of their parents together ○

Tom sat elegantly on his bed in the orphanage reflecting on what had happened that day while Y/n sat in the chair present near the small table, staying all night with him together talking about the future and gossiping about their origins that they had discovered, joking as if it was something irrelevant despite the fact that they had killed the entire Muggle Riddle family dynasty and dealt with the Gaunt family.

It was one of those days when there was genuine laughter and satisfied smiles full of pride, a different pride than when they were taking top grades at Hogwarts.

○ make fun of the other siblings ○

An amused snort escaped Y/n's lips as she watched her twin try to maintain control while the potions partner he happened to have ruined the potion they were to perform by blowing it up in both of their faces.

○ take each other's clothes ○

Tom looked up from his book when he heard his followers whispering things to each other while looking in a direction he followed only to find himself frowning, clenching his jaw "are you wearing my sweater?" Y/n merely nodded, adjusting it slightly as she listened to Avery's offer to lend her his clothes whenever she wanted, answering him with a smile only to turn and roll her eyes as she walked away, ignoring her twin's annoyance.

○ fight over chores ○

The twins cast a glance at each other when Mrs. Cole ordered one of them to wash the remaining dinner dishes, referring to that person simply by the last name starting what became something of a battle between the two since they both had no desire to wash dishes in a Muggle way.

"I'm pretty sure she meant you, Tom, she was looking right in your direction."

"I don't think so, Y/n, the intonation suggested she meant you."

"In my opinion you are wrong, it is normal to be wrong when you are the second"

"I'm not the second and you're aware of that too, plus it's a job you've often undertaken so I don't see why she was talking to me"

"That sounds like a macho statement, Tom...is that how you treat women?"

○ gossip about cousins ○

The noises in the room were loud but still allowed for chatting at a decent volume, Tom sat down trying to sound disinterested while talking to Y/n who was reading "you know I don't like gossip but I've discovered new things" he murmured in a low tone, an amused smile appeared on the witch's face while listening to his twin gossiping even though he claimed he didn't like it and wasn't interested in gossip at all.

○ help with mean teachers ○

A murderous look crept over Tom's face as he watched how Y/n was being scolded and teased while she kept looking at the teacher with a blank expression waiting for him to stop so she could focus on the task again and fix the little mistake she had accidentally made.

An annoyed expression appeared on Y/n's face as she watched Dumbledore blame Tom for something, already thinking how only she could behave that way toward Tom and that no one else should dare; the exact same thought Tom had when she was laughed at.

○help cheat on assignments for school○

Tom showed up at the very last minute to transfiguration class and quickly sat down next to his twin, preparing the things as he apologized to the teacher, muttering a quick excuse that came to his mind before shifting his gaze as he saw how Y/n moved some papers toward him muttering "it's the transfiguration assignment that needed to be done, I did it for you.... don't worry you'll get top grades anyway" Tom frowned slightly but then decided it was better than nothing so he handed it in with the others receiving as expected a high grade exactly like Y/n.

○ call each other "bro" and "sis" ○

When the word "sis" came out of Tom's mouth they both cringed, looking at each other almost shuddering in disgust promising each other that they would stay at: brother, sister, twin or their name.

No abbreviations of brother and sister were allowed in their brother-sister relationship.

NEVER

The Riddle twins turned at the same time looking at each other with a disgusted expression after realizing that they cared about each other, they both were seeing it as a weakness of them that they would never talk openly about with anyone.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @lostmyremembrall

#tom riddle x you #tom riddle x platonic!reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x y/n #hogwarts #avery #tom riddle & sister reader

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motherfuckingmaneater · 7 months

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Obsessed with how you portray father Cygnus (I hate black sisters abuse theories) please give us all your headcannons for him!

You and me both, anon! My headcanons list for daddy warbucks is ENDLESS so here are a good chunk. Enjoy!

◜ ۞ ◞ he’s a Black through and through. Tall, broad, grey eyes, black hair, classically handsome even as he gets older and older. Behind Tom Riddle he was certainly one of the most handsome boys at school despite that he’s 2 years younger than Tom.

◜ ۞ ◞ his best subjects were arithmancy, astronomy and alchemy.

◜ ۞ ◞ his magical expertise is astounding — of course it is, he’s a Black — he can recall histories of ancient lineages in his sleep and he practices rune mapping regularly. His skin is littered in runes, though admittedly, not as deeply as Orion’s is.

◜ ۞ ◞ like all Blacks he relies on his name more than anything else. They’re arrogant but they’re not show-offs like the Malfoys. They’re haughty but not snooty like the Rosiers. More than anything he knows how steeped in ancient and dark magic the Blacks are and he draws on that heavily, investing himself deeply in their unique, powerful, dark magic.

◜ ۞ ◞ he also loves hunting (muggle hunting is a favourite), wizards chess, collecting dark artefacts — which he’s been doing for as long as he can remember, having ludicrously expensive things imported from all over the world. It was a hobby of his fathers which he shared interest in.

◜ ۞ ◞ Speaking of his dad, he and Pollux had a lot in common but Pollux’s pride and joy was always Walburga.

◜ ۞ ◞ Pollux pushed him for a career in magical law with the Ministry. Irma wanted him to become an alchemist. Alchemy was his passion, a passion he later shares with his eldest daughter, Bellatrix.

◜ ۞ ◞ He excelled in magical law enforcement anyway, taking additional studies to become a magilawyer. He climbs quickly in the Ministry, moving from junior to senior within the space of about four years. By the age of 30 he’s the head of magical law enforcement, the youngest wizard in Ministry history to reach that position.

◜ ۞ ◞ For a long time he remains magilawyer primarily keeping purebloods out of Azkaban and supporting the imprisonment of mudbloods. Yes he’s a corrupt wizard, no he does not care.

◜ ۞ ◞ he’s heir (English side, Orion is the French side’s heir) to the wealthiest family in the world. He has more gold than he knows what to do with. When he returns from the continent he invests it heavily in Lord Voldemort, who he’s always thought has absolutely the right ideas about blood purity and whom he genuinely admires (despite that he was not invited to become a knight at school).

◜ ۞ ◞ Cygnus refuses to take the mark unlike many of his former classmates. Voldemort would’ve killed him for refusing him but Cygnus is useful and loyal despite his refusal to play destroy for him. Voldemort immediately uses him for keeping his death eaters out of prison if they’re ever caught, which isn’t often — and for writing new rules into the law systems of magical Britain.

◜ ۞ ◞ he and Druella were a love match, though she is his complete opposite. His father approved of the match (she’s a good standing pureblood witch after all) but his mother didn’t and wanted him to marry a Black, likely his cousin Lucretia. She relented because of Walburga, who made the point of — what does it matter? His children will still be Blacks.

◜ ۞ ◞ onto his babies!!! He’s very very proud to be a girl dad. He adores his three witches, every single one of them is the absolute light of his life and he understands them completely. He gets Bellatrix’s adventurous mind and rebellious spirit, he gets Andromeda’s academic mind and quirky spirit, he gets Narcissa’s pristine mind and sweet spirit. He adores them for their uniqueness and very much encourages them to explore and pursue their passions.

◜ ۞ ◞ baby Narcissa curled up on his chest is guaranteed to make him fall asleep within seconds.

◜ ۞ ◞ Druella definitely marks him down as the reason Bellatrix takes the mark and Andromeda becomes politically minded against their way of life. Cygnus takes none of the blame because his girls have always been single-mindedly passionate to what they believe in.

◜ ۞ ◞ Andromeda’s leaving wounds him deeply, but only furthers his closeness to Bellatrix and Narcissa, remaining very much a deep and fixed part of their lives.

◜ ۞ ◞ he’s daddy as fuck.

◜ ۞ ◞ 100% Alphard was his best friend. He did not approve of him being disowned for giving Sirius gold, though he did heavily disapprove of Sirius’s actions against the family.

◜ ۞ ◞ Walburga is the love of his life, he adores his big sister though he finds her intolerable at times (as all siblings do). He bends over backwards for her and does it without thinking twice. He is also exceptionally protective of her — cut to Cygnus decking Orion in the face for calling her a stuck up bitch and Walburga telling him she ‘wanted to do that herself!’

◜ ۞ ◞ Narcissa has done him the most proud for her family values and her integrity.

◜ ۞ ◞ Bellatrix has done him the most proud for her strength, ability, power and position in society.

◜ ۞ ◞ he approved of Bellatrix being taught magic by Voldemort when she’s 15 — after all, she’s practically a child and Voldemort is older than him what’s the worst that could happen?

◜ ۞ ◞ He didn’t realise how in love with him she was until he hears them conversing when she’s 19 and engaged to Rodolphus Lestrange. He didn’t mean to listen in, but he overhears her begging him not to marry her to Rodolphus and take her instead. He says no but that it won’t change things between them, she’ll always be his first. It stilts Cygnus entirely and he leaves quickly. He never shares what he hears with anyone, even Bellatrix.

◜ ۞ ◞ he finds out about Orion and Bellatrix’s affair first. He finds them asleep together when they’re in Orion’s home in France.

◜ ۞ ◞ if he could, he’d have had her marry Sirius and keep the Black family name. As it is, he was too young for her and also she seems dead set against having children anyway — and he doubts Sirius could change her mind, so he relents against his preferences for her marriage.

◜ ۞ ◞ as for Rodolphus I have two ideas for how this could go: either way he loves his son in-law, they have an excellent relationship and they’re both dangerously protective of Bellatrix. 1. Rodolphus and Bellatrix have been best friends since their childhood, it makes sense they marry each other. Bellatrix doesn’t mind so much, he’d make for an easy enough match and she does seem to adore the wizard. It’s an easy engagement, easy marriage, and they make a beautiful couple. 2. Rodolphus is Cygnus and Voldemort’s age, a former peer of theirs. Rodolphus never marries and never shows he’s interested in Bellatrix. Bellatrix expresses her interest in him directly to a very surprised but perfectly pleased Cygnus who agrees he’s an exceptional wizard and would make for a brilliant husband. Plus if Orion proves anything, he knows his girl has always liked her older wizards. They court for some time, get engaged within a year and married in the next — again they make a beautiful couple.

◜ ۞ ◞ he is not keen on Lucius Malfoy despite that he seems to dote on Narcissa and bend to her every whim. Narcissa deserves far better — but honestly no one would be good enough for his most precious girl, so fine.

◜ ۞ ◞ He knew about Bellatrix and Voldemort’s affair and did everything in his power to keep it from ruining his daughter’s reputation which he felt she was being reckless about.

◜ ۞ ◞ he tried to talk her out of it multiple times but it only seemed to further her closeness to Voldemort and Voldemort’s iron-tight grip on his daughter.

◜ ۞ ◞ one day when he finally confronts him, Voldemort says if he wanted to make his pretty little daughter his personal whore he would, and who would stop him? Certainly not Cygnus Black. Cygnus (in his very characteristically Black temperament) pulled all Black funding from under Voldemort’s feet and found himself on the other end of Voldemort’s wand. When Cygnus refused to relent despite the threat of death, Voldemort turned his wand onto Bellatrix. He had the choice — continue giving him the gold he wanted or lose his heiress. He didn’t think he could actually kill her given how close they were and how heavily involved with everything Bellatrix was (and quite frankly, how obsessed and possessive of Bellatrix Voldemort appeared to be) but Cygnus complied.

◜ ۞ ◞ he once more risked Voldemort’s wrath by demanding the man at least have the decency to marry his daughter when he gets her pregnant. Voldemort only laughed and Cygnus lost what little respect for him he had left after that. Though he continues supporting the cause, he actively avoids Voldemort unless he can’t. Even then, he speaks to him with a candour and freeness no one else (except Walburga and Pollux) seem able to.

◜ ۞ ◞ Despite that, he absolutely adores his little granddaughter (more than his grandson, sorry Draco). Delphini means the world to Cygnus and he’s grateful to Walburga for legitimising her.

◜ ۞ ◞ the most devoted, hands-on grandfather you will ever come across. Absolutely spoils his girl rotten just like he did her mother.

◜ ۞ ◞ he continues hunting well into his older age, almost always solely with Bellatrix. It hurts him just a little she goes with Voldemort more than him. During the height of the war he never sees her without him nor him without her.

◜ ۞ ◞ he loses his job when he fights for Bellatrix’s release from Azkaban prison. He’s disbarred and revoked of his positions and titles. He’s heart broken and inconsolable at his daughter’s imprisonment, his most beautiful, shining star chained behind bars. He misses her beyond belief and not Walburga, Druella or Narcissa are able to pull him from his grief.

◜ ۞ ◞ he dies from the heartbreak of losing Bellatrix to Azkaban and then soon after, Walburga’s death. No one is with him when he passes, but his hand is tight around the picture he keeps of Bellatrix with him all the time. Delphini takes the picture and keeps it herself.

#fuck your black sisters abuse theories #cygnus black is DADDY #cygnus black #the black family #bellatrix black was not abused #the most noble and ancient house of black #maneaters headcanons and studies #walburga black #narcissa black #bellatrix black #orion black #druella rosier #sirius black #andromeda black #the black sisters #hp fandom #toujours pur

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hs-is-loml · 1 year

Text

Love Looks Good On You. (a.t)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!OC

Summary: the aftermath of the disastrous dinner

Warnings: (18+ CONTENT AFTER THE SECOND CUT) fluff, little angst, typical family drama, incestual relationship uncle/niece (UNEDITED)

a/n: hey, guys! i am so sorry for the sudden break, i've been dealing with a lot for the past couple of weeks, and got food poisoning the other day which has not been fun. anyways enough about me tell me what you guys would want to see in the upcoming chapters! any ideas are appreciated :)

masterlist - series masterlist

"Fire burns even when it is against itself," Helaena whispered aloud to no one in particular, but it caught Viserra's ears though she decided not to comment on it just yet as she tried to process the girl's words.

"Sister, are you alright?" Aemond asked Viserra which broke her train of thought as his eye filled with slight worry when he saw the exhaustion behind Viserra's eyes once all the guests had left the royal family alone.

"I will be the second they leave King's Landing," she responded to him with a tight-lipped smile. "They do not belong here."

"Sweet girl, they will be gone soon enough," Alicent tried to comfort the stressed girl going over to her and pulling Viserra into a motherly embrace.

"Thank you," Viserra whispered to Alicent.

"For what, Viserra?"

"You are the mother, I wished for as a child."

When Alicent processed Viserra's words, her eyes welled with tears and a soft smile was placed in of her usual flat-lined one, "I am honored you consider me as one."

"When will Rhaenyra understand that the crown is not her to take anymore," Corlys exasperated to the family breaking the sweet moment between Viserra and Alicent. "That stunt they just pulled is a mockery."

"I expected more from my own daughter, but it shows that Daemon has finally gotten to her head once more," Viserys said as Alicent returned to his side helping him stand with his cane.

"Daemon got to her long before all of this," Alicent countered.

"Yes, I suppose I was too blind to see it before," Viserys admitted with a sigh.

"My sister seems to be quite delusional," Aegon commented. "She seems to lose more and more of her common sense as time goes on."

"That is if she had any to begin with," Viserra butted in earning a laugh from Aegon. "They always have to ruin everything and somehow make it about themselves every single time," Viserra sighed in frustration allowing Aegon to wrap his arm around her shoulder to pull her into his side.

"Darling-" Viserys started before getting cut off by his cousin.

"Viserys, she has point. We all know it," Rhaenys pointed out to him. "Though Daemon seems to be the main trouble of our worries."

"Daemon is blinded by his desire for power," Viserys stated. "It is sad that he has pulled Rhaenyra into his life of schemes."

"Power he will never have," Aegon scoffed.

"Daemon will know his place soon enough," Otto reassured him.

"Fire burns even when it is against itself," Helaena repeated again under her breath catching Viserra's attention once more.

"Helaena, sweet girl, could you say that again for me?" Viserra pulled herself out of Aegon's arms and took ahold of Helaena's hands. "What did you see?"

"Fire burns even when it is against itself," Helaena said once more. "Fire consumes, but only one will make it out alive."

"Helaena, I hope you do not mean-" Alicent started moving closer to the pair.

Viserra pulled her hands away and turned to face her family once more before saying, "I will prove what is rightfully mine with fire and blood."

"With fire and blood," the Targaryens of her family repeated after her.

"Till the end," Corlys, Alicent, and Otto finished giving a solemn nod to one another in understanding know the Targaryens are only as strong as they are united.

"My love, we will make it right," Aegon rubbed Viserra's shoulders as she sat at her vanity in their now-shared chambers.

"That is not my worry right now, Aegon," Viserra sighed softly. "Every time they speak aloud, it demeans me," she continued dishearteningly.

"Let me take your mind off them," he whispered into her ear leaving a trail of kisses down her neck as he moved his hands to the nape of her neck to remove her jewelry.

"You are too eager."

"Can you blame me? I have waited a long time for this," he reminded her as he went to remove the pins from the crown before moving on to unravel her braid relieving her scalp from the tension. She felt him press warm kisses alongside her jaw traveling back down to her neck. She let out small strings of moans as she tilted her head to the side allowing him greater access while he continued to nip at her neck

Lucky for the two, The King and Queen respected your wishes for not having a bedding ceremony. Aegon nearly went into a tantrum when he found out one of the council members brought it up in a meeting. Considering Aegon has an extremely possessive personality, he downright refused wanting no man other than him to see Viserra in such a way. So they came to the agreement that in the morning her handmaiden would check the sheets.

Aegon broke away from her neck turning her to face him and pulling her into a searing kiss. He led her near the bed before moving his hand to untie and slip off her dress letting it pool around Viserra's ankles. She stepped over her dress and slipped her hands under Aegon's tunic to feel around his toned torso before ultimately removing it from him.

"You are too beautiful."

"Only for you, my love."

"That's right, only for me," he stated. "Mine. All mine."

"Yours," she moaned out.

"Mine to take."

"Anything."

"Mine to give."

"Yes."

He pushed her to fall lightly on the bed before taking his position above her. He let his hand roam around her naked body in full admiration. He leaned down to capture her breast in his mouth while massaging the other with his hand. She moaned at the feeling of him lapping his tongue over her hardened nib. He took it between his teeth and pulled on it slightly causing Viserra to spew out curses and tangle her hands in his hair.

"No one will ever see you like this other than me."

"Never," she reassured. "Oh, Aegon," she breathed heavily as he without any warning slipped a finger inside her.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out before adding another making her moan loudly for him. He took them in by kissing her. His tongue explored her mouth as they both fought for dominance. She felt her stomach tighten as her walls clench around his fingers.

"Let go for me, Viserra," he purred into her ear kissing over the small bruises he had left on her earlier.

He quickened his pace and the lewd sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of her filled the chambers along with her moans. Aegon took notice when her face contorted when she was close and how her mouth fell open when her body shook with pleasure as he worked her through the orgasm.

He pushed inside her slowly allowing himself to sink into her warmth. He stilled for a moment inside her allowing Viserra to adjust to him. The feeling of fullness engulfed her every emotion making her mind a blur. He groaned in delight as she unintentionally squeezed her walls around him.

"Calm," Aegon whispered.

He began rocking back and forth barely pulling out of her to only push back in deeper. He bottomed out to quickly plunge himself even deeper into her. He repeatedly brushed against the sensitive spot in her causing Viserra to tightly wrap her legs around his waist in order to pull him closer to her body. He grunted as he felt her clench her walls around him tightly. The moans that left her lips encouraged him to quicken his pace as he had a bruising grip on her hips.

"So good, Aegon," she babbled out. "So full."

"Look at you, so incredibly beautiful like this fucked out of your mind," he mocked slightly.

"Please," she whined out with heavy breaths as she felt her release approach her rapidly.

"That's it, just like that," he told her while he searched for his own release. Sweat glistened over their bodies as Aegon hilted deep in her allowing him to spill inside her walls. He momentarily collapsed over her before moving to lay beside her pulling her close into him.

"I love you."

"And I love you."

TAGLIST:

@jupitersblondie @justaproudslytherpuff @poppyflower-22 @nsainmoonchild @duhitzdae @stargaryenx @letsloveimagines @stitchattacks @ruyitheempress @ladespedidas @miqaelababa @mommytauriel @whitejuliana1204 @ietss @targaryenmoony

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nixotinix · 6 months

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Sooo I realized yesterday that I.. haven't *actually* updated my redesigns for JJ/HH from when I first joined MH Tumblr almost a year ago. And I figured since they've gone through so many iterations on this account, might as well make some more concrete redesigns with mini profiles to boot. So introducing the new and improved Jackson Jekyll & Holt Hyde redesigns! (+ Some closeups) (pls pls click)

I've got a couple notes about this Non-Descript G1 AU that they live in below the cut!

-English on their mom's side, Korean on their dad's side.

-Same as my 40k G3 fic, Holt's parents never actually GAVE him a name. So he used 'DJ' as his name until Draculaura helped him come up with the name 'Holt'. And thus his full name is DJ 'Holt' Hyde.

-Jackson wears clear jewelry in all of Holt's piercings, especially the facial piercings. They still have the shared yin-yang tattoo on the nape of their necks.

-Despite many beliefs in the monster community, blue skin is not indicative that a fire imp is half human. It's just a genetic mutation like blue eyes or red hair in humans. Though it is more common in half-fire imps than full blooded ones.

-There are, though, 3 main things that set Holt apart from other fire imps appearance-wise. 1: he doesn't have horns or a tail thanks to the confines of Jackson's human body. 2: his flames are a little droopier and look a little more like hair, again thanks to half human-ness. And 3: visible irises and pupils. Full-blooded fire imps have pure white eyes.

-Holt is fully willing to deck somebody who points any of those 3 things out.

-Holt also has blue pupils rather than black!

-Jax/Holt and Heath are actually friends here, even if Heath is sometimes disrespectful to his half-normie cousin.

-Jax is still the shy, nerdy kid who gets bullied, but overtime he starts to come out of his shell. Holt, on the other hand, was popular from the get-go and has a relatively high standing on the social pyramid. Definitely not teen royalty like some of his peers, but he's certainly more favoured than Jackson.

-Same as always, Jackson is about a foot taller than Holt.

-Holt and Catty are best friends. They collab a lot on different music and she introduced him to her boyfriend Pharaoh.

-Jackson's coat is a huge comfort object for him. It's made of wool and cashmere and he got it in London where he grew up. He's almost never seen at school without it, and he maintains and washes it regularly.

-Jax has a lot of those rubber bracelets from his favourite bands under his sleeves. Most of them are metal bands. Jax is a metalhead argue with the wall.

Hope y'all like the art and minor worldbuilding as much as I love these boys!! I hope to use these redesigns in some artwork soon enough huehue.

#monster high #holt hyde #jackson jekyll #hee ho ha ho im a funny lil art man #monster high fanart #monster high redesign #nix devolving into madness hours #jackson jekyll redesign #holt hyde redesign #holt has. a lot of piercings #he has a septum too but i didnt feel like drawing noses #i want the amount of swag that Holt Hyde Monster High has #WOW hes so cool #wanna smooch him frfr #wanna tuck him into bed at night and read him a story and give him a little cookie frfr

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suzannahnatters · 1 year

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Ok so I wrote a whole steampunk trilogy about these two bejewelled idiots

so let me tell you about George V and Mary ("May") of Teck.

From the photo - woman dressed like a wedding cake, man wearing the Milky Way - you might think that this is a picture of privilege.

Well, yeah. You're right. Mostly.

Her name was Princess May, and she was Europe's least eligible spinster.

Although she was of royal blood, May was descended from a "morganatic" marriage - her grandfather on her father's side had married a commoner - in fact, a countess (gasp!) - on condition that their children would not inherit his small German duchy. May's two aunts never married, because no self-respecting German prince would be seen dead in a ditch marrying the offspring of a mere countess. May's father got lucky because over in England, Queen Victoria was struggling to cope with her cousin, MARY ADELAIDE. Mary Adelaide was fat, thirty-two, unmarried, more popular than the queen, and completely uncontrollable. Under the circumstances, the discovery of an unattached prince too beggarly to be picky was an absolute godsend. The English were too broadminded to care about the countess, and nobody else (as someone joked unkindly) would "venture on so vast an undertaking."

The marriage was happy, but extravagant. By the time May was 16, the family was so deeply in debt that they had to run away from England to avoid their debtors. For the next two years they lived in Italy, where May was able to get an excellent education in art history, languages, singing, and painting.

After returning to England, May took an interest in visiting the poor and collecting funds for charities. Serious, diligent, and intelligent, May hoped that one day she would have an important role to play in the world…but how? She was not royal enough to marry into royalty, but she was much too royal to marry beneath her.

It was Queen Victoria who decided to play the fairy godmother. One day, quite unexpectedly, she invited May to join her at Balmoral. Several days later, Prince Eddy also arrived. Eddy was Victoria's grandson, third in line to the throne, and thus (if you overlooked the affairs with married women, and the scandals, and the venereal disease, and the sub-zero IQ) the most eligible bachelor in the whole British Empire. In Victoria's opinion, what the future King of England needed most was a good, smart, steady wife. She'd already tried to arrange several other matches for Eddy, including one with Princess Alix of Hesse (who would go on to marry Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, a match which would in no way help to precipitate a violent revolution and end in a hail of bullets, blood, and diamonds), but all of them had failed. Now, she thought May would do.

Perhaps May thought it was her only chance to achieve lasting financial security. Possibly she agreed with Victoria that the future of the British Royal Family depended on Eddy marrying someone with half a brain. Maybe she even hoped for love. When Eddy proposed, May accepted.

Just weeks before the wedding, May was staying at Sandringham for Eddy's 28th birthday celebrations when he came down with influenza. The next day, he developed pneumonia. Five days later he was dead.

More than a hundred years later, we can be excused for looking back and feeling that both May and the whole British Empire dodged a significant bullet there. To Eddy's family, it was a crushing tragedy. One who mourned him was Eddy's younger brother, a steady, hard-working, unimaginative naval officer named George. Prince George was not just dull as dishwater and nearly as badly educated as his brother, he was also significantly healthier, smarter, and more disciplined. Now, with George taking Eddy's place as heir to the throne, many immediately began to think that George should take Eddy's bride as well. After all, Queen Victoria had already gone to the trouble of vetting and approving May, and why should all that work go to waste?

Among those who thought so were May's own parents. When Eddy's family went on holiday to the south of France to grieve in peace, May's parents packed up their daughter and followed. George dutifully called on the family, and over the next few months, as May travelled around Europe, she and George corresponded via letter. Emotionally constipated as he was, George had grown used to writing heartfelt notes to his deaf mother. May was also painfully shy. Signs were against them, but the two managed to become engaged in 1893 after significant prodding from both their families. Shortly afterwards, they exchanged these hilariously awkward letters:

MAY: I am very sorry that I am still so shy with you. I tried not to be so the other day, but alas failed, I was angry with myself! It is so stupid to be so stiff together and really there is nothing I would not tell you, except that I love you more than anybody in the world, and this I cannot tell you myself so I write it to relieve my feelings.

GEORGE: Thank God we both understand each other, and I think it really unnecessary for me to tell you how deep my love for you my darling is and I feel it growing stronger and stronger every time I see you; although I may appear shy and cold.

The rest, of course, is history. George married May in 1893 and in 1910 they succeeded to the throne as King George V and Queen Mary of Teck. In between ruling the colonies with a rod of iron (George), amassing a small fortune in fabulous diamonds (May), and wearing some of the era's most luscious fashions (both) the two of them remained as deeply in love as ever. When George took a dive in a newfangled invention named a submarine, May, standing on the Portsmouth quay, could not repress a passionate effusion of concern:

"I shall be very disappointed if George doesn't come up again."

ALSO May had a dollhouse that was a miniature copy of their home! The library contained VERY TINY BOOKS by literary luminaries such as Oscar Wilde and Rudyard Kipling! AND over the bed in the main bedroom there was a tiny sign hanging - "May George? - George May." I'm sorry but I love them. I'm not sorry at all for all the grand silly fun I had writing them both in Miss Sharp's Monsters. Though I'm afraid that at no stage was the real Princess May impersonated by a clever clockwork automaton containing a bomb intended to blow up Queen Victoria. I made that part up.

#history #miss sharp's monsters #the werewolf of whitechapel #mary of teck #george v #historical fiction #gothic #steampunk #gaslamp fantasy #victorian #1800s #1890s #bete epoque #late 1800s

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mahlersgirl · 3 months

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more on princess mizu itoh hcs (a part 2 of this)(this accidentally became a small fic as I got invested) (tagging @roninzuzu bc who else shall feed on the dynamic between these two)

as mizu becomes a young woman there are talks of her being married off, but there's the obvious question of what noble house would accept a wife with eyes of an onryo

takayoshi is genuinely worried about his cousin and writes to her about it

her short and angry answer was "worry about your own wedding, I'll be nobody's wife"

it's around this time she runs away from home and takayoshi is sure he had something to do with it and blames himself for mizu being somewhere out there doing god knows what

and for this mizu I think it would be a lot like how akemi ran away to help taigen, except mizu is seeking revenge against the white men and doesn't want to use the itoh family's resources (lots of resentment for being treated like a monster)

it wouldn't be easy at all and she involves herself in lots of trouble that makes her realize that living as a princess, even a neglected one, is still skies above what a commoner samurai would have to go through (again this is akemi arc but add violence)

eventually she would cross paths with mikio (🤮) and maybe he would take her under his wing and care for her after she's severely wounded? it will also evolve into the romance we're acquainted with

now, after the telltale moment in which mikio calls her a monster for handing his ass on a plate during sparring, instead of the bounty hunters being sent to kill her, I can see it being the _itoh family soldiers_ sent to retrieve their princess who had eloped with some good for nothing farmer it seems

not only that, takayoshi is there with them, having missed his sister for a whole year and just relieved he found her again

"how did you find me?" she hissed with slitted eyes full of ire, knife secured in hand ready to decimate his whole troop if he dared to touch her. maybe she would even make him bald for his petulence

takayoshi blinked in astonishment

"you wrote to me, mizu" he said reaching back to get the scroll, his familiar stutter making her feel nostalgic, but not less mad. "you asked me to take you back and bring gold to you and your husband."

and mizu suddenly understands, as mikio materializes by her side, looking unaffected by the number of armed soldiers on his property. she was made into a fool. when mikio looked bewildered she would trade a life of luxuries for revenge, he was in fact envious of her position.

the man mizu loved was a fucking bastard.

he was also the one who first met her blade, to the shock of everyone watching her, a bride covered in the blood of her own husband. she looks at the closest soldier next, looking ready to attack, but takayoshi was faster:

"do not raise your blades at her!" he yelled out his authority, the trembling of his voice diminishing with the loudness. "mizu, let's go home... I'll intercede with my mother on your behalf. we can forget this ever happened."

"takayoshi, in respect of our friendship and the only familial bonds I ever respected," mizu said finally raising her eyes at him, blue meeting brown, the color of the sea and the summer sky who meant a childhood of laughs and promises. "forget I ever existed. this is not your battle to fight. I was never a real part of the itoh family and you know it well. leave me alone and spare me the sin of spilling your blood."

and takayoshi understands, unfortunately, that this was never about both of them being different. mizu was always the one who was hurt the most by her origins and he could never truly know what she went through. he was still the second son of a powerful house and no stuttering or insecurity could take that away from him.

at times, to love someone also meant to let them go. mizu had chosen a path in which he was nothing more than a nuisance. the least he could do was let her be.

he makes his men retreat, but not after putting down the treasure of gold and jewelries he had brought because of the message. he didn't know if she would use any of it, but he wouldn't, either.

"the winter palace will be open." he says before stepping into the carriage. "if not as a cousin, a brother or a friend, perhaps you can still reach me out as an acquaintance. I would enjoy having tea with you once again."

she didn't offer him another word of farewell as his caravan disappeared in the hills and she was bathed by the rain, too mentally exhausted by a reaction. no husband or family, she was fated to be a lonely monster, in the end.

only revenge could keep her satisfied.

#really loved writing this #they need therapy #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #takayoshi blue eye samurai

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nyxielovespythons · 3 months

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Why NejiTen should be canon

Before I say anything, I can recognise that NejiTen is not canon, although I want it to be lol. Everyone has a right to their own opinion, so I ask that you respect mine, and if you want to challenge it, you can *politely* do that in the comments.

The major countering ships to NejiTen are: NejiHina and LeeTen, so I will talk you through why these ships don't work out.

First with LeeTen (because I don't want you quitting after the drama of NejiHina). Lee and Tenten are seen as very close throughout the series, though Tenten makes it clear that she finds Lee annoying and hot-blooded. This is the opposite to Neji, who Tenten seems to admire a lot, since she liked to train with him, and even put on lipstick in the manga for his chūnin exam finals. They seem like the perfect best friend duo, in my opinion. Romance doesn't need to be involved in every since best friend duo, there are enough of them already. In the Boruto series, Lee is seen with his son, Metal Lee. Many think that Tenten is the mother, due to the eye shape, and I think she could easily be. I mean, she's the only kunoichi in Konoha in the same age group as Lee (I think, I haven't fact checked yet), and the girl in his team. Tenten is probably the easiest choice for Lee's wife that Kishimoto could've made. However, if they were to be married and have had a son together, they would now be divorced. This therefore means, that if they had got married, then the relationship would not have worked out, and LeeTen would've failed. If they had not got together, then Lee would've married a different woman, and even if Lee then divorced that mystery woman, they clearly do not have mutual feelings for each other any more. They might have had feelings for each other, at different stages of their lives, but they either both grew out of their crushes or it was only one-sided to begin with.

Second. The NejiHina incident. I'm sorry, but I will have to go on for even longer than LeeTen, because some people don't understand that this ship is incest, and I'll tell you why. Excluding the fact that Neji had strong resentment towards Hinata for quite a period of time, they still wouldn't work out. Their relationship only evolved into *family* love, as confirmed by Kishimoto, just as Boruto loves Himawari, or Temari loves Gaara. What's wrong with a "big brother-little sister love"? Why must everyone make everything romantic? Neji cares deeply for his cousin, as does Hinata. She calls him 'Big Brother Neji', showing that she only sees him as her older brother. Besides, Hinata was so deeply in love with Naruto, she would've never agreed to the marriage. Moving on, a lot of people, from a range of cultures, some of which invite cousin relationships, think that Neji and Hinata getting married and producing heirs is okay. Some of them (purposely?) forget that the reason you don't have kids with your sibling is because it increases the chance of genetic defects dramatically. Although having kids with your cousin is legal (at least where I am), it still has quite a high risk. These people try and back it up by saying that the Hyūga clan would've wanted a pure Hyūga-blooded heir. Hm... Uchiha clan, anyone? Sure, this was common, but there are plenty Uchihas that are so distantly related that it would be fine to have offspring (such as Itachi and Izumi). The same could be said about the Hyūgas. Maybe Neji would've been their best option for a pure blood husband, but there would've been other choices, more people that were much further distanced in relation. I've got this far, and I haven't even mentioned another key fact: you know that Hiashi and Hizashi are twin brothers, right? Identical twins, to be exact. Lemme show you something: "Identical (i.e., monozygotic, or MZ) twins share 100 percent of their genes". You see that? It means that Hiashi and Hizashi share the same DNA. And this means that Neji and Hinata are genetically closer than cousins. They're actually genetically half-siblings. Hm. The Hyūgas are smart enough to figure out that it probably isn't the best idea to inbreed them, right? Well. That doesn't matter, because even if they overlooked all this incestuous evidence, there's this. Hinata isn't even the current heiress. If Neji survived the war, he would not have married Hinata in Boruto. If the Hyūga clan forced him to marry the heiress, and have children to keep a pure bloodline, he would've married Hanabi. Hanabi is the current heiress, so she would be the one married to Neji. Got it yet? Neji and Hinata would never have happened.

The last reason NejiTen should be canon: their chemistry. Tenten is shown to greatly admire and respect Neji, constantly calling him a genius, and she has blushed because of him in the manga several times. He believed in her abilities enough to sit under the practice dummy she was hitting with kunai. Neji comments that her fight would be interesting, showing that he thinks she is a good fighter. He is also shocked at her defeat, further proving that. In the first databook, Kishimoto confirms that Neji and Tenten trained every day for a month in preparation for Neji's chūnin match against Naruto. During this training, Neji reverse engineered and perfected the moves only reserved for the main branch of the Hyūga clan, mainly the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms and the Eight Trigrams Palms: Revolving Heaven. You should also note that while all the other contestants trained with jōnin, Neji chose to train with Tenten. "During one of their training sessions, birds are shown flying in the sky and Tenten tells him that she is exhausted and can't keep going. Neji responds that he thinks he used too much of his chakra and faints. Tenten is seen running to him and asks him if he's alright." Tenten wore a different outfit to watch Neji's match, and as I said, in the manga she also wore lipstick. After his fight with Kidomaru, Neji remembers seeing Lady Tsunade with Tenten. In the Shippuden, during Team Gai's fight with Kisame, Neji rushes to Tenten's side when she seems to struggle in the Water Prison.

In the image above, it shows the two finishing each other's sentences. They can communicate with little dialogue and know what the other is thinking with only one word. Tenten winks at Neji and invites him to go to the bathhouse with her, both in the anime and the manga. Later, after Neji's death, in the manga, she expresses anger, thinks about Neji and asks why he left her. In her memory, Neji doing the "nice guy pose," which has been performed in the past by Gai, Naruto and Lee. The pose signifies that one will keep their promise until death, as Lee states to Sakura during the beginning of the Sasuke retrieval arc after Naruto does the pose and promises to her that he will get Sasuke back. Neji doing this pose before Tenten implies that he promised her something that he intended to fulfill until his death. In the anime, Tenten holds her hands in a prayer and asks why he left her as she remembers Neji doing this "nice guy pose" to her, then she walks away crying and says that she's never going to forgive him. The implied promise that Neji made to her is not known, but it was significant enough for Neji, who tends to be stoic and serious, to use the cheerful and significant pose his "hot-blooded" sensei and teammate have used in the past. When caught in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, Tenten dreams of more mature versions of Lee and Gai as well as Neji being alive and by her side. She's the only person whose Tsukuyomi dream involves not only Neji being alive, but being with him.

They are shown constantly beside one another throughout the entire story, similar to the couples Asuma and Kurenai, and Shikamaru and Temari. While Neji is very formal and strict, he is shown to be comfortable around Tenten. He isn't shown to mind when she teases him or winks at him. He is also rarely portrayed as a character who apologizes to anyone, but he is shown apologizing to Tenten. In both the manga and anime, birds are present during the scenes where Neji and Tenten are shown alone together. In the manga, the only male character Tenten is shown alone with is Neji.

Other Trivia include:

Tenten's name and Neji's themes compliment each other. "Tenten" literally translates to "heaven heaven" in Chinese, while "Hyūga" translates to "place in heaven." In the new Chūnin Exams arc, Neji is shown holding two heaven scrolls with the characters 天天

Tenten's weapons shop in Boruto is named 忍具転転転, which directly translates to "Ninja Tools Turn Turn Turn." Furthermore, the characters "具転転" in the name translate to "revolving." Thus, the name of Tenten's weapons shop can be a reference to one of Neji's primary moves, Eight Trigrams Palms Revolving Heaven.

During the blank period, Tenten wears a uniform that includes a dress with a flame pattern similar to the flame in the Hyūga clan's emblem.

Neji and Tenten are depicted as compatible: the Databooks reveal that Neji is a Cancer and Tenten is a Pisces. In Western astrology, Cancer and Pisces are considered a compatible and harmonious pairing. The Databooks list Neji's blood type as O and Tenten's blood type as B. The blood type personality theory popular in Japan considers O and B blood types romantically compatible.

Neji, during his death, is portrayed as a Phoenix on fire. In the anime, Tenten utilizes the moves "Twin Rising Dragons" and "Exploding Dragon Strike." In Chinese folklore, the Phoenix and Dragon pair symbolize perfect harmony and balance between yin (Phoenix) and yang (Dragon).

Among the Konoha 11, Neji and Tenten were the only ones who were 18 years old during the Shinobi war, whereas Naruto and Hinata were 16 years old and the rest were 17.

Neji and Tenten share the same hairstyles as Hashirama Senju and his wife Mito Uzumaki.

#nejiten #nejiten is canon #nejihina #leeten #rant #naruto #naruto shippuden #boruto #naruto rant

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raybyanothername · 2 months

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dueling mother tongues

Another Daemon POV for the prompt driven fic! This time with eavesdropping and the Green siblings having their own mixed language of Valyrian and the Common Tongue.

This drabble escaped containment long ago: Parts 1 2 3 4 5

He'd left the girls with Rhaenys. And Moondancer. The young dragon nesting in their chambers. Daemon expected he'd find the dragon in Baela's bed upon his return.

Caraxes could not fit in his bed though. He'd been too large for such a thing even before Daemon's birth according to the stories his father had told. His uncle Aemon had certainly tried in his youth, had snuck the young dragon into both the Red Keep and Dragonstone before Caraxes had grown too big for the doorways.

Smiling to himself, Daemon descended the stairs of the main tower. He'd always enjoyed his uncle's stories.

The ones about Caraxes and Meleys especially. The only two red dragons. His mother had claimed they were the most Targaryen: the regal Red Queen and the protective Blood Wyrm.

Two sides of the same coin. The same two that every Targaryen had. Fire and Blood. Conquest and Justice. Caraxes and Meleys.

He'd thought Viserys to be the other side of his coin. The even tempered monarch to his chaotic prince. Viserys would rule and Daemon would protect.

"The king will never forgive us!" The hissed whisper had Daemon pausing in his steps along the path down to the caverns beneath Driftmark. He squinted as he tried to place the voice.

Familiar as it was, Daemon had never heard Valyrian spoken quite like that. Half the words had been in the common tongue at that, or pronounced as if they were, which made it even more difficult for him to understand.

"Who gives a fuck about him?!" Another voice hissed in the same odd mix of Valyrian and the common tongue. The curse had made it easier to place the speaker at least.

Aegon's voice was raw, and wet, just as it had been earlier before Daemon had left his cousin's chambers. Emotion filled his every breath, stuttering as some of them were.

"Muna will never forgive us, forgive me!" Aegon said, half whimpering by the end. The only word in Valyrian he'd managed to pronounce properly was 'mother' and Daemon's heart twisted at the lilt in his voice.

It sounded almost identical to Laena's. The thick Westerosi accent that both she and Laenor had inherited. In King's Landing, only those of royal blood were likely to speak Valyrian. Even then, some never learned it. Aemma hadn't.

Both Valyrian and the common tongue were used on Driftmark though. So while Rhaenys typically had the familiar bite of High Valyrian when she spoke, her children had learned the language with an accent. One Daemon had grown quite fond of over the years, as his wife had whispered in his ears and shouted at him across rooms.

"Mother doesn't hate you," a feminine voice caught his attention and the harsh whispers of the other two voices went quiet.

Soft and melodic. Helaena pronounced every word of Valyrian as if it were common, and every word of common as if it were Valyrian. The two languages mixing together in a her mellow voice.

"She wanted her father back and I'm the reason he's dead," Aegon said, exhaling slowly, "I've always been a disappointment." He huffed, "Now I'm... I'm... buqarys."

Daemon blinked. Hated? Was he trying to say hated? His nose wrinkled as he listened to the three of them talk. To their rapid fire discussion of the current situation. He could barely follow.

Aegon, Helaena, Aemond. None of them spoke a single sentence entirely in Valyrian. He understood them, yes, but only just. Half their words were pronounced wrong. Or differently, at least. And not in the same way as the Westerosi spoke Valyrian on Driftmark or Dragonstone.

This was different. Their own mash of their dueling mother tongues. They spoke the common tongue properly before others, but it seemed that when alone they spoke... this. Quickly at that, without concern that the other two might misunderstand them.

But what of their Valyrian? Could they speak that properly as well?

Brow furrowing, Daemon tried to recall if he'd ever heard one of them speak Valyrian before, on his sporadic visits to the Red Keep since Helaena's birth. He and Rhaenyea had used it at dinner, with Laenor and Laena. Viserys as well.

The children had followed their conversation, but they'd not spoken. Jacaerys had, once. Daemon had laughed at his pronunciation and the boy had flushed crimson.

Eyes squeezing shut, Daemon sagged against the nearest stone wall. His chest grew tight and his head ached.

His parents had been the ones to teach him Valyrian. His aunts. His uncle.

A sharp scoff dragged Daemon's attention back to the siblings, to their makeshift Valyrian. To the resounding evidence of his failure as their uncle.

"You don't really think the king will let mother stay behind do you?" Aemond drawled, "He might let Helaena stay for a bit, if Rhaenyra asks, but his wife?"

"His queen," Aegon corrected with a snort, "And why wouldn't he? It's not like she serves a purpose for him now. She's barren remember? And he can't lie with anyone in his condition anyway."

Bile rose in his throat. Aegon did not mince his words. Entirely cavalier, in fact. Daemon found himself pressing a hand to his lips, fingers curled into a ball as he silenced himself.

"The only thing the king cares about is Rhaenyra. That's always been true, and it certainly is now." Aegon's voice rattled in his head as Daemon stood stiffly outside the cave where Dreamfyre had taken to nest upon her arrival.

"He cared for Otto," Helaena hummed, "Mother is his daughter. He may wish to keep her close."

Another snort, a shuffle. Aegon's voice grew sharper, his pronunciations crisper. Almost correct even. "Maybe that's why he married her."

Aemond made a gagging noise, "Gross!"

Eyes fluttering, Daemon certainly agreed with him. His nose wrinkled as Aegon laughed, "What? Men lie together too. They just can't marry because the Faith says it's unnatural."

"I know that!" Aemond snapped. He sniffed, words mumbling as he groused, "Mother says that's what Ser Laenor does with that one knight."

"Qarl," Aegon supplied, sighing once again, "And mother says significantly more than that, but only because she's angry with the king and if she insulted Rhaenyra directly he'd punish her again."

Footsteps sounded above him and Daemon looked up. Laenor paused, brows furrowing as their eyes met. Daemon held a finger to his lips and the brows rose up.

"It's why she said all those things about Ser Harwin too," Helaena tacked on as her younger brother grumbled. Her voice grew sharper then too.

For perhaps the first time, Daemon heard his younger niece's temper rise. Her anger, not just in her words, but in the subtle shift of her tone. Laenor's eyes widened beside him as she spoke.

"If the king hadn't sent Daeron away, mother wouldn't care that he favors Rhaenyra so much. She wouldn't be afraid!"

"She wouldn't have wanted grandfather to come either," Aemond asserted. His words were accompanied by the crunch of footsteps. Solid and stomping. "This is all his fault!"

Whether the boy meant Otto or Viserys, Daemon found himself nodding in agreement. He turned his head to face Laenor, eyebrow arching as he mouthed a silent 'why?'

A question that quickly became redundant as Aegon let out a hollow laugh, "You say that like it matters."

His siblings went quiet. Aemond's angry pacing pausing as Aegon's began. His strides decidely slower and echoing far less. Which only made it that much easier to hear his words.

"The maesters told him mother needed time to recover after you were born, but he still blamed her when she became barren after Daeron's birth."

Daemon cringed. His teeth scraped over the top of his knuckle as he held in a scream. Laenor bowed his head to Daemon's shoulder, hand squeezing at his bicep. Tears gathered on both of their lashes as the boy continued, his voice cracking now.

"He sent Daeron away because mother said as much," Aegon announced, wetly. His next breath stuttered as he spat out, "The king never takes the blame, Aem. That's how it works."

"If mother can't stay, neither can I," Helaena whispered as her brother's crying filled the air. "She shouldn't be alone. Not now."

Silence reigned inside the cavern for a moment. Long enough for Daemon to grow nervous that they might be discovered, that the children might leave the safety of Dreamfyre's nest to search for their mother.

Aemond's low croak startled him, "You really think he'll let her stay?" Daemon squeezed his eyes shut as the boy hiccuped, "It wouldn't be so bad, living here, if mother could stay."

Laenor's breath hitched. His hand squeezed at Daemon's arm, grip tight. Daemon's whole body shuddered as his nephew answered.

"Yeah," Aegon assured his brother, "I think the king will let her stay." His little chuckle came with a short sniffle, "She's not the one he's punishing this time."

#house of the dragon #hotd #ray writes #fanfiction #asoiaf #aegon ii targaryen #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen

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five-rivers · 6 months

Text

Ancestral chapter 16

Written for ectoberhaunt 2023 day 20: danse macabre.

The room was silent as everyone listened intently, straining to hear Mr. Kynbaz’s (his first name was Kevin?) response.

"An extraction? Why? Isn't she in hospital for a medical condition?" There was a pause, not quite long enough for Joanna to interject, but long enough to hear. “How do you even know about that?”

“You left the team on read and the emergency system kicked it to Matthew and your second, but Matthew has it set to forward things to family members if he doesn’t answer and it’s flagged as an emergency.”

Another brief pause. “Why do you want Princess Alicia extracted?”

“We think that–” Joanna visibly collected herself. “There’s evidence that Revyvtech is involved in the poisonings and responsible for Alicia’s condition.”

“Joanna–”

“My judgment was poor as a teenager, but don’t you dare hold that over me when my family is in danger!” snapped Joanna. She closed her eyes. “I– I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

“What kind of evidence? Would it hold up overseas?”

Joanna’s eyes flicked over Danny, Jazz, and their other cousins. “No. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t valid.”

Mr. Kynbaz hissed softly, the sound barely transmitted by the phone speakers. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Kevin, wait, I–”

The end-call tone played.

Joanna let her hand drop to her side. Her eyes flicked over Danny, Jazz, and their other cousins. “How many of you have prescription medication?”

Everyone but Jazz and Danny raised their hands. Jazz elbowed Danny. “You have that stuff you were prescribed for your eyes,” she said.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Danny– Danny. Do you think you could tell if this… if this poison - blood blossoms? - was in something? Like you did with the aconite?”

“Um,” said Danny. “Maybe. That was mostly Gw– the ghosts, though. They saw the poison being added. If it is blood blossoms, though, I think I should be able to. Or- or they should be able to," he added, glancing at the ghosts. He didn't want to ask them to, though. Not after what had happened to Gwensyvyr’s arm. "I should be able to."

“Good,” said Joanna, “good. Everyone, go get your medications, and bring them here.”

"Why are there so many?" asked Danny, intimidated. The little bottles practically surrounded him.

"We're part of the oldest royal lineages in the world," said Iris. "It'd be weirder if we didn't have any weird genetic disorders."

"What even are all of these for?" asked Danny, knowing it was rude, but not being able to help himself. It was his family medical history, anyway.

"Blood disease," said Iris and George simultaneously.

"Specifically anemia," said Iris.

"Specifically Avlynyse recurrent macrocytic anemia," said George.

“Called that because normal macrocytic anemia is supposed to be caused by something else, like hypothyroidism or alcoholism, but we don’t have those problems and it always comes back.”

“You guys probably have it, too,” added George. “It’s super common in the family, but it.”

“Along with Avlynyse defective melanin syndrome,” said Iris. “Purple eyes are pretty, but they come with problems, you know?”

“I knew about that,” said Danny. “But you don’t take medicine for that, do you? Mom has that, and I don’t think she takes anything for it.”

“Usually you don’t,” said George, “but melanin has a lot of functions beyond just skin, hair, and eye color, and sometimes ADMS affects those things as well. You remember how Iris and I would, ah, shake a little, all the time? And our eyes would scan back and forth? We couldn’t stop it. That’s what we take medication for.” He made a face. “We actually first got this in a drug trial from Revyvtech a few years ago. It’s new…”

“Oh! Don’t forget the epilepsy,” said Iris.

“Yeah, can’t forget the epilepsy.”

“You have epilepsy?” asked Danny. “But I’ve sent you flashing videos… Memes…”

“No, no, Lewis is the one who has epilepsy. I’m just saying it’s relatively common.”

Lewis made a face. “I could have told him myself. They’re only focal seizures, anyway.”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Danny. “I’ve sent you flashing videos, too.”

“It’s fine,” said Lewis. “Focal seizures don’t make you lose consciousness all the way, and I’ve got a filtering program on my phone.”

“Mostly he shows them to me, first,” said Leo. “I have the anemia and a heart condition and low blood pressure and poor circulation and also eczema, which sort of makes my skin break out in hives if anything is touching it the wrong way for too long.”

“Still not a good reason to not wear shirts,” muttered Lewis. “Eugene?”

Eugene blushed, then looked down at the medicine bottle in his hand. He looked back and forth between Danny and the bottle, then the bottle and Jazz. The bottle was a slightly different color than everyone else’s.

“Um,” he said. “I have bipolar disorder. And I have auditory hallucinations. It’s not– It’s not schizophrenia, though. I don’t have the other symptoms.”

Joanna put her hand on Eugene’s shoulder. “I also have bipolar depression. And anemia.”

Now Danny just felt bad. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” (Also, wow, why was he suddenly thinking about the time his parents tried to ‘spin the crazy’ out of him?)

Eugene laughed a little. “It’s fine. I mean, we’re showing you all our medications.” He held out his bottle towards Danny.

“Still.” Danny took the bottle. “But… have you ever considered that the hallucinations could be…?” He trailed off as Gwensyvyr and the other ghosts started shaking their heads.

“Oh,” said Eugene. “No, definitely not. There are ways to check if you’re hearing ghosts, assuming they’re cooperating. We tested it.” He sat down on the floor across from Danny. “So. How are you going to do this?”

“Um,” said Danny. “I was just going to phase my hand through each of these and see if anything happened? That way, I’m not screwing up good medicine by taking it apart or anything.”

“Is that safe?” asked Jazz with a slight frown.

“I– Nothing has ever happened to the stuff I’ve phased through before?”

“For you,” clarified Jazz.

“Might give me a burn,” said Danny. “But the blood blossom cream is already out, so… I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” said Jazz.

Danny nodded and held up Eugene’s bottle with his right hand and swiped his left hand through it.

(It was so strange to just do that in front of so many people, and in human form.)

“Nothing,” he said, handing the bottle back to Eugene.

“That makes sense,” said Eugene. He turned the bottle so Danny could see the logo imprinted on the bottom, a simple eye with an apple in place of a pupil. “Avl Ayg does more psychiatric medicine than Revyvtech.”

Danny nodded, and hunted through the bottles to find Joanna’s. It also didn’t have anything in it that Danny could detect.

Then, he started working through Leo’s medication. The heart stuff was fine, but when he passed his hand through the anemia medication, he flinched back, hissing.

“Blood blossoms?” asked Jazz.

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Ow.” He shook out his hand.

Jazz held out the cream to him.

“It’s such a tiny amount,” said Danny. He examined his hand. It wasn’t even red. “It was just, like, touching something too hot, rather than all-consuming agony.”

“Your standards for all consuming agony are off,” said Jazz. “Put on the cream before you do more.”

Danny grumbled but did what Jazz said. Then he tested the eczema medication, and…

“This feels weird, but not like blood blossoms,” he said. There was something ectoplasmic in it, but only in trace amounts. “Could be ectoplasm contamination?”

“Could you tell how even it is?” asked Jazz.

“No,” said Danny. “Do you think… If they are getting things for their medicines from Andyr, do you think that there could be ectoplasmic stuff down there? From the ghosts, maybe?”

He saw Gwensyvyr’s face screw up, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but then shook her head.

“That would make sense,” said Jazz, slowly. “But that would be incredibly dangerous. Ectocontamination made a cooked turkey come back to life.”

“What,” said Lewis, flatly.

“Never mind,” said Jazz.

Danny moved on to Lewis’s. His anti-seizure meds were fine, but he had a jar of anemia supplements, just like Leo. Again, there was something in it. He set it aside.

He moved on to Iris and George’s. They had a larger number, but theirs were largely identical, so he did them all at once. Again, most of them were fine, one of the melanin ones was weird, and the anemia supplement had blood blossoms in it.

“These actually have more than any of the others,” said Danny, nodding at the bottles while rubbing more cream into his hand. “It’s still tiny, the ghosts aren’t even affected by it being near, but…”

“But we’ve been getting slowly poisoned for who knows how long,” said Joanna. “All of us.”

“It does cast some doubt on it being what killed everyone, though,” said Iris. “Since none of us have keeled over in anaphylactic shock any of the times we’ve taken these. It’s possible that there’s a legitimate medical use.”

“I don’t know. I guess there are some things… Mom and Dad wanted to use it to purge ectocontamination.” Danny looked up. “Did Martin have this? Do you think any of his medication is still here?”

“Maybe,” said Joanna. “If he did have any here, it would probably be in his room, or the master bathroom.”

Getting everyone into the master bathroom was a squeeze, but no one wanted to be left out. Joanna opened the cabinet and moved aside a woebegone toothbrush and a few boxes of band-aids before pulling out three bottles and a weekly pill organizer. The organizer was mostly full, with only Sunday morning empty.

“Ferromultyx, melanyorata, and escitalopram?” she read from the bottles.

“Huh,” said Iris. “I didn’t know his melanin defect was bad enough to take melanyorata.” She sounded a little congested.

Danny, not quite in arms’ reach of Joanna, between all the people in the room, made grabby hands. “Let me see.”

Joanna passed them over, and Danny phased his hands through. The melanin deficiency drug had the same weirdness as Iris and George’s. The anemia drug on the other hand…

“There’s nothing here,” he said. “It’s clean.”

Iris chewed her lip. “None of this makes sense.”

“I think it does, actually,” said Danny, turning the bottle over and over in his hand. He wriggled his way out of the bathroom.

“How?” asked Lewis, who managed to get out before the others. “Why poison us just a little bit, and kill everyone else?”

“I don’t know that it’s just about that,” said Danny. He put Martin’s medication on a nearby shelf and pulled the small bottle of the medicine he’d been prescribed from his pocket and passed his hand through it. It burned. Badly enough to make him hiss and drop the bottle.

“Danny?” asked Jazz, alarmed.

“I’m fine. I just had to check something.” He cradled his hand near his chest. “I don’t think they want you dead. They want me dead. They don’t want you ectocontaminated.”

“You guys keep saying that,” said Leo. “What is it?”

“Ectoplasmic contamination. Ectoplasm. Ghost magic.” Danny licked his lips, then stepped sideways to get a better view of Gwensyvyr. “That’s what’s actually in Andyr, isn’t it? There’s a source of ectoplasm. There’s a portal.”

Gwensyvyr gazed at Danny for a long moment, then nodded.

“There’s something that happens in the Trials that makes you… more spiritual. Or something. More like a syvyr.” And Danny hoped beyond hope that ‘something’ wasn’t dying like he had in the portal. He could almost imagine it, all of them, all his family, walking, practically dancing down into the dark, into glowing, deathly green. A tableau. A danse macabre. A memento mori. Except no one really died…

… until now.

“That,” said Danny, “that’s what they’re trying to stop. They’re trying to keep that from happening. Because if it did– if it did…” He trailed off, unsure, then looked at Gwensyvyr. Her eyes were sharp, expectant. “Well, what we thought before, about them using stuff down there for medical research is probably still true, but… There are probably parts of the Trials you can’t do without having ectoplasm. Things for the ancestors. Things for…”

If there was a portal beneath Avlynys, the ghosts here should be as strong as in Amity Park. They weren’t. But they were gaining strength from Danny’s presence.

“Things for the portal,” Danny continued. “Like, unblocking it or something. Fixing it.” He shivered, remembering the last time he’d tried to fix a portal.

“A portal?” asked Joanna. “To where?”

“The, you know, the afterlife,” said Danny.

There was quiet.

“Unfortunately,” said Joanna. “We can’t do anything about that until we take the Trials. Except for not taking any more of these things.” She snatched up Martin’s medication and put it back in the cabinet.

Leo groaned. “Fainting town, here we come.”“For now… I think all of you need some sleep.”

#danny phantom #ancestral fic #ectoberhaunt23 #ectoberhaunt 2023

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venusjeon · 2 years

Text

joglar de gèsta

you manage to escape death when your not-so-lucky family is overthrown from Aquitaine, and the only way to avenge them and restore your conquered kingdom back to power is by asking your cousin for help. but the journey to him is a dangerous one for a princess on her own, so you must travel escorted by… a jongleur.

♔ PAIRING: jongleur!taehyung x princess!reader

♔ GENRE: historical au, angst, smut

♔ WORD COUNT: ...17.3k😶

♔ WARNINGS: huge age gap, minor characters death, period-typical sexism (as... sigh, always), aNd ThEre wAs OnLy oNe Bed, mild swearing/violence/drinking, BICKERING, attempt of sexual assault, kissing, grinding, loss of virginity, quiet sex, jungkook is a horrible guy in this lol

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: butchered french history even though i made a whole lot of research to write this but let's ignore that :D

1102

There was a forest right outside BORDÈUS. You’d always gaze down at the trees that mantled most of the landscape whenever you and your ladies-in-waiting fancied a walk on the high ramparts. It was calming, somehow. A contrast from the busy city at the other side of the walls.

Your father and brothers always used to complain that it was a military disadvantage because one could scarcely see an advancing army under the green but for you, at present, it was the opposite. The rest of the soldiers who had just taken the capital city of Aquitaine were probably lurking about, ready to kill you as they had hundreds in the past hour, but the thick vegetation shielded your escape.

There was a command you’d been given that was engraved on your bones, and it was to run. So run you did.

Away from the screams of peasants who feared they’d share the same fate as those who’d fought back, and away from the kingdom that surrounded the castle you’d grown up in. The kingdom that wasn’t yours anymore.

It hadn’t held such title for long, admittedly. Aquitaine had been a duchy under the French Crown for centuries until some months ago, when your father had decided to break off from it and its, in his own words, tyrannical rule. And so he’d got himself anointed and gone from duke to king and you, from lady to princess. But furious at the offence, the King of France had sent his son to invade back the new independent kingdom and teach its people a lesson for daring to defy his God-given authority.

It was common knowledge that Prince Jungkook was a master of warfare, so the whole venture had only taken half a day, to your family’s misfortune. You’d seen from your hiding place how he’d not hesitated to run them through with his sword in the throne room, a grin on his face even when their blood splattered all over him. The image would forever plague your dreams.

He’d left afterwards, called by one of his men, and you’d taken the chance to run to your mother’s body and kneel beside it, grasping her shoulders to try to shake her awake... in vain. She was gone, as well as your father and brothers. Hurried footsteps could be heard outside, but you didn’t care if they’d find you, didn’t want to live after witnessing your family meet such a horrendous end. If you were killed too, all the better.

Except it wasn’t a French soldier that entered the room, but a servant. The most loyal of subjects, she managed to convince you that surrendering was cowardly, and that your family wouldn’t rest in peace until they and the Aquitanians were avenged. She made you swap clothes next and grabbed your hand to lead you out of the castle.

Everything had happened so fast since that it only survived in your memory in flashes. You did remember that at some point you separated, and the last thing she told you was to run and find Sir Seokjin, a knight who’d been in the service of your family for years. How many times you’d seen him train in the courtyard with your brothers and begged to be taught swordsmanship alongside them... Finding him was impossible, for he was probably also dead, but running you could do.

So it was that camouflaged between those many trees, you left Bordèus behind at full speed, not even stopping to catch your breath. If you were seen by the French and somehow recognised, Prince Jungkook himself might put you to death, and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

The sun was almost set when you spotted an inn. For a second you thought it was a product of your imagination, but the wooden structure was still there after blinking a few times and rubbing your wet eyes. There, so close you smelled fresh-baked bread.

Yes, this was a risk you needed to take.

A bell announced your entrance to the few men sat on tables, too busy drinking ale or conversing to notice or care that you were standing by the door. Faced with a lack of women, it began to dawn on you there were no guards around to protect you in case of danger, no Sir Seokjin. There was nothing you could do to defend yourself in case any of the men there wanted to hurt you, and none would believe a princess had walked into an inn if you threatened to have them hanged.

“Want anything, love?” a warm female voice coming from behind brought you back from your brooding. The innkeeper’s wife, what a relief!

You nodded shyly. “Yes… I’d settle for a drop of water, but I have no coin to pay you with.”

“Oh,” the woman exhaled, compassion drawing her brows together. She likely thought you were a beggar, and none could blame her. Sweat soaked your hair and there were also twigs in it, courtesy of a rock that had made you trip and roll all over the ground. A hand on your back, she gently led you to the counter. “Well, first let’s put some food in your stomach and then we’ll talk payment. Don’t you worry about that.”

As expected, her cooking was far from the quality of court you were accustomed to, but there were more pressing matters to worry about.

“Food and drink I can give you for free this one time,” she said a while later, when you were finishing the meal she’d prepared, “but if you want to stay the night, you’ll have to sleep in the stables.” With a final swallow, you nodded, grateful all the same. By that late hour, the hall was empty save for the two of you.

Or so you’d thought because suddenly, a man appeared next to you and dropped a few gold coins on the counter. “Give her a bed, Beatris. I’ll pay for it.”

Your lips parted. Who was he and why was he helping you out? He’d heard you carried no money so, did he expect you to pay him back in… kind? If that was the case, you were ready to throw your wine cup all over him, whatever the consequences.

But it wasn’t. He just went upstairs and bafflingly enough, that was the end of it.

Beatris then showed you to a free room and once settled, the horrors of that day came to you in bits and pieces as though your heart, knowing all of them would break you, had wisely rationed what memories to give you back. You cried yourself to sleep, praying to wake up in your bedchamber the next day and for the invasion to have been a nightmare. For no one to have died.

The past had indeed not changed in the morning, but you decided the future would be different. It had to be. The sadness and grief inside you morphed into the hatred that was to move you forward, as it became clear you couldn’t afford to be emotional.

What you ought to do was find Yoongi. He was a cousin you’d not met in person since your childhood days but most importantly, the Holy Roman Emperor’s son-in-law. Not only would he grant his protection to you, but he’d wage war on France for massacring his family. It was a question of honour. And as such, he’d leave Prince Jungkook for you to kill, something you were looking quite forward to.

When you went downstairs, you met the innkeeper. He wasn’t too pleased his wife wished to serve you a free breakfast out of pity, but you assured him you’d be out of his hair shortly.

“Go up north, you say?” He looked at you up and down with a raised eyebrow. “Without any money? I doubt you’ll get far.”

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t even wearing jewellery that could be sold, having swapped everything with your servant… The thought of her made you feel guilty, as she’d probably been killed in your stead. Her sacrifice would not be forgotten. You’d use it to cast away the temptation of giving up. “I have to try.”

“We don’t know much about northern travel routes, love,” Beatris chimed in, “but why don’t you ask Taehyung? He’s a jongleur.”

That was it! Jongleurs, minstrels, bards… However one preferred to call them, they were men of entertainment who travelled from city to city performing songs of heroic deeds. If there was one around, perhaps you could offer to be his assistant in exchange for his escort. Not the best plan, but a start nonetheless. “Taehyung?”

“The man who paid for your stay last night,” she said, glancing at the door. “I believe he still hasn’t left, but I’d hasten if I were you.”

After thanking her a thousand times for the advice and breakfast, you sprinted outside and found the man by the stable. He was sat on a boulder eating an apple, and the sunlight that filtered through the trees’ leaves above fell upon his face, making it shine like angels did in paintings. Was it a sign from God or was Taehyung just enjoying the faint warmth of spring? Whatever it was, you decided to disrupt his peaceful morning and approach him.

Blocking the light with your frame once in front of him, you opened your mouth to speak, but realised you hadn’t really planned on what to say without giving away your identity.

“Can I help you?” he asked rather unfazed, to which you involuntarily frowned. It was hard to get into the role of a commoner when, as a princess, you were used to people currying favour with you. Everyone listened carefully to whatever you said, laughed at your jokes, and lowered their gazes to show you respect.

This is fair treatment, you told yourself, so you’d better not let it strike you dumb.

“I believe you can. Are you Taehyung the jongleur?”

“Yes. And you are?”

Already, you did not like him. He spoke as though he wanted to be left alone, which complicated matters for you.

“Y/N.” Fuck’s sake. Off to a great start. Well… there were others called Y/N, it wasn’t an exclusive royal name. “Is there any chance you’re headed to Aquisgran? You might also know it by Aix-la-Chapelle, or AACHEN.”

“Why?” He continued to calmly eat his apple, and you tried to think of a believable backstory.

“I was a novice in a convent that got burned down. Our Lord took every other life in the fire, including that of my parents who’d come to visit, and left me with nothing but sorrow… The only relatives I have left reside in Aachen.”

There was no need for you to feign grief, but had your story fooled the storyteller?

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Taehyung said honestly, you could see in his eyes, and somehow found yourself blinking back tears in the short pause that followed. “Aachen is far from here. You’ll need money for the journey but if that’s what you want from me, you’ve picked the wrong man. A jongleur doesn’t earn much.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want your money, I want you to take me there.”

He scoffed. Scoffed?

“I wasn’t aware I look like a nursemaid,” he said before taking another bite. You hoped he’d choke. “Look, even if I were going to Aachen, I wouldn’t take you with me. You’d be a burden, another mouth to feed. It’s about a month’s trip on horseback and I only have mine, the creature can’t carry two people for long. Not to mention how inappropriate it would be to keep company with an unmarried young girl. No, forget it. I travel alone.”

“I’ll walk quickly beside you and the horse,” you suggested, forced to let his dismissive tone pass. “And my relatives will reward you for bringing me home safely, I give you my word.”

“That is, if they don’t slam their door in your face for leaving the habit. It’s looked down upon, you know? Don't give your word so lightly.”

“Please,” you resorted to begging, desperation overshadowing the anger Taehyung was provoking in you. “It’ll be dangerous if I’m on my own.”

There was another pause as he thought about it, in which you held your breath. But shattering your plans, he shook his head to conclude with, “I’m sorry, child. All I can do is give you directions.”

You breathed out through your nose in defeat, then nodded. “No, thank you. I’ll try my luck with the foxes…”

There was a road next to the inn you began to follow, what else could you do?

You’d just have preferred to be accompanied by a jongleur as you walked it, even if it was one as discourteous as Taehyung. At least that way you had a chance at surviving the trip. You kicked the small rocks on your path and wondered what would come first: starvation, predators, or robbers. Upon realising you carried nothing of value, the latter might take you to do as they pleased, and how were you to stop them? Sir Seokjin, wherever he was, probably regretted having taught you so little of self-defence while he lived.

An hour hadn’t yet passed when the noise of hooves clattering drew your notice. It came from behind but when you turned around, you were more surprised than grateful to see not robbers, but Taehyung. His horse reached your side and he held out his hand to help you mount it, all while avoiding your curious gaze. Evidently, his actions were flavoured with reluctance.

“Now I’ll feel guilty if anything happens to you…”

At nightfall, the two of you reached ENGOLEIME.

Spending so many hours with Taehyung had confirmed your suspicions that he wasn’t very talkative, and that actually came as a relief. Given all that had happened, you weren’t in the mood for conversation, although you did learn a few things. His age, for instance. He didn’t look it, but Taehyung was about a decade older, which explained why he annoyingly kept referring to you as a child despite your clearly having been an adult for years. It must be the age difference and not that he thought you a brat, right?

Another thing was that he didn’t remember where he was from, or which of the many languages he spoke was his mother tongue. He claimed his parents had died when he was a toddler, that he’d been fending for himself ever since, and even though you were now in a similar position, you wondered what was worse. To grow up without a family or to have it taken from you…

It was that early loss that had led Taehyung to minstrelsy. He'd followed the lead of famous jongleurs since the age of ten to end up becoming the one of the best, you bore witness that night at an inn’s tavern.

A large crowd had gathered to see him perform a song about a knight who rescued a princess from a ferocious dragon, and all were immersed in the tale. Only the melody of a lute he played himself accompanied his rhymes, such a silvery voice didn’t invite for more to adorn it. But it was the way he told the tale, as familiarly as a lifelong friend would and so compellingly, like he’d been there himself. No challenge had therefore been met in earning everyone’s captivation and at times laughter, including yours. It gave your soul a break from grieving.

His performance finished earlier than anyone would’ve liked, and that was your cue to stand up from your seat and collect the money of quite a lot of pleased costumers. It wasn’t much, them being peasants, but more than enough to pay you both dinner.

“How does it end, then?” you asked Taehyung after dropping his bag of money on the table and sitting in front of him. By his grim face, he was definitely done with the friendly act, and back to normal.

“What does?”

“Between the princess and the knight!” Wasn’t it obvious? It was the only part of the story he hadn’t bothered to wrap up. “He saves her, then what?”

“That’s not relevant, what matters is that he’s forgiven by the king,” Taehyung explained, thanking the serving maid who brought you dinner with a nod. He didn’t so much as glance at her, and so remained ignorant to the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off him, even as she left. Yes, despite his intimidating air, Taehyung was… not precisely ill-favoured.

You leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Well, make something up and tell me, I’m on tenterhooks!”

“Fine.” Taehyung gave in with a sigh. “She marries a prince and he grieves her love for the rest of his life.”

“That's rubbish.”

“That's realistic.”

Disbelief made your lips part. “Says the man who sings of knights who kill giants and dragons!”

“I don't write the songs, just spread them,” Taehyung justified, but when you were about to tell him he had no excuse for being so boring if he was so good at pretending otherwise, you noticed many of the people around were staring. Judging you with their gazes, it rather seemed. “They think you’re a whore.”

Your head whipped back to Taehyung and alarmed, you whispered, “What?”

“I told you it’d be inappropriate to travel together,” he said, although he was unbothered by the opinion of strangers, calmly eating his meal instead. “They think I’ve employed your services.” A short laugh escaped him out of nowhere. “I bet they regret giving their coin to me seeing as this is how I’m apparently spending it.”

It was an uncomfortable situation, so you opted to change the subject by taking hold of his lute and brushing your fingers on a few chords. The first notes of your mother’s favourite song… “I know how to play this, and other instruments. I could join you onstage. A bit of variety would make more money, don’t you think?”

Taehyung shook his head. “Most female jongleurs end up as prostitutes so if you reddened just now, imagine performing in front of an audience who does little more than sneering at you. I’ll save you the embarrassment. Besides, the music has a similar structure in most of the songs, yes, but if I forget something and improvise, we’d be out of harmony.”

“Write the lyrics down, then. I’ll do it for you if you don’t know how.”

“If I wrote things down, I wouldn’t have such a prodigious memory,” Taehyung said with his mouth full, then looked up from his food. “And I’ve known my letters probably longer than you’ve been alive, child.”

Arrogant prick. How were you to know that, when he was lowborn?

Troubadours, who were the ones up your street, were as well several steps higher in the social ladder, and so received a proper education. They mostly composed sophisticated poetry that was sometimes performed at court, where they lived, but usually read by the nobility—not to say they didn’t delight with their songs of chivalry and courtly love, for which you’d pay them generously.

Jongleurs, on the other hand, were usually illiterate and wandered through Europe orally sharing stories whose origins even they didn’t know. It shouldn’t have offended Taehyung that you’d tarred him with the same brush as his guild. He was simply insufferable.

Still, you swallowed your contempt for him along with your dinner, reminding yourself he was helping you get to Aachen. Perhaps someday you might convince him to come sing at the castle. His manners could be overlooked in favour of his talent.

“Would you ever go out of your way to perform at courts? I heard Princess Y/N, for instance, liked the kind of stories you tell.”

Using both the third person and the past tense on yourself was strange, to say the least, but news had spread about the whole of the royal family being slaughtered. No one was to suspect the reality was another.

Taehyung tilted his head to a side. “Aren’t convents supposed to be isolated from society?”

You shrugged. “I was never a good nun.”

“No, I can see,” he scoffed, although you didn’t know what he meant by it. “Unless a king orders me to, I don’t do courts, no matter how much he offers to pay me.”

You were about to ask him why when the maidservant from earlier returned to the table, making sure to lean almost invasively close to Taehyung so that he’d take notice of her as she picked up his now empty plate. Her eyes wouldn’t leave his and yours, her insolence. Must she interrupt your conversation with… her beauty? Was that all it took for her to drive a man’s attention away from you and seduce him?

It turned out not, for even though Taehyung was aware of the maid’s desire to lie with him, he still looked away and cleared his throat for her to take a hint he wasn’t interested. She left not saying a word, her expression showing she wasn’t pleased that she’d been ignored. You had to suppress a smile.

“Are you not going to spend the night with her?” you teased, proving you weren’t the demure little girl Taehyung had you for.

He raised his eyebrows as though the thought had come to you out of nowhere and not from what had just happened. “She’s not my type. Besides, I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

Drinking while he answered wasn’t a good idea, you found out the second your gasping turned into choking.

“I beg your pardon?”

Upstairs, he explained that a bed was without charge for him most of the time because it was in the interest of innkeepers to accommodate those notorious for attracting clientele, like jongleurs were. But just one bed, in just one room.

“Trust me, it’s better this way,” Taehyung told you as he unfastened his shirt. You hugged yourself and turned your gaze away, not as confident as minutes ago.

“I fail to see how.”

“The tavern downstairs is full of drunk men. If any of them decided to break into a room in search of pleasure and you were in one of your own, I couldn’t protect you.” He noticed that was a kindness you did not expect from him. “If we travel together, you’re under my protection.”

It did comfort you to know that, given you had no one else, but a part of you wondered whether he’d turn you in to the French if he found out who you really were. In that moment you chose to believe he wouldn’t.

“For that reason and the fact that you earned this bed, I would not dream to take up your space on it,” you said with a small bow of your head. Taehyung laughed.

“Alright, suit yourself. Know that you’re welcome to climb next to me when you can’t sleep on the hard floor.” He tossed a pillow over and you caught it right before it hit your face.

Nothing else was said that night, one you spent sat by the window while staring at the black sky. If things went as hoped, the next time you saw a full moon would be from your bedchamber.

By the end of the week, you were almost in PEITIEUS.

Taehyung deciding to stay for a few days in his old friend Pèire’s house had been cause for an argument—since you were already making stops at every town so he could make a living, thus prolonging the trip—but his insistence that you get some rest after seven days of walking briskly to catch up with him and the horse managed to convince you. That, and the promise of quality food.

Pèire’s wife Franceza, who was about your age, made the best pies in Aquitaine according to Taehyung, and you happened to have a sweet tooth that had been deprived of anything sugary ever since you’d left Bordèus.

What you did not have was knowledge of the kitchen, something Taehyung had trouble believing, given you were an ordinary woman. The lie that only just veiled your noble upbringing was that your duties as a novice had revolved around the thread and needle, not cooking. Franceza had been kind enough to offer teaching you but despite that being a skill you’d never be in need of, her friendship was a grace you thanked God for. With light talk and laughter, she made you forget the pain and wish you could stay for a bit longer, even if Taehyung would have to also be there...

On your third and second-to-last day in that house, he came up in the conversation you and Franceza were having while making one of her famous pies.

“Does he have a stick up his arse for any particular reason, or is that just standard in the jongleurs’ guild?”

She laughed, “I don’t know many, but I doubt it. Taehyung just... He’s seen better days.”

There was a hint of pity in her last words that piqued your curiosity. “What do you mean? From what little he’s told me, I thought his life had been one of struggle.”

“There was a time that wasn’t the case,” Franceza said before realising the kitchen’s door was open. Carefully, she closed it and led you away from it. If she feared being overheard, you gathered this must be something serious she shouldn’t be talking about, but as a lover of gossip, you couldn’t wait for it. “Years ago, shortly after Pèire and I married, Taehyung was summoned to the Holy Roman Emperor’s court. He was excited to learn from the troubadours who lived there, and dreamed of becoming one himself, but...”

“But?”

“He fell in love with a princess.” A small gasp escaped you, as the emperor only had one daughter. Your cousin’s wife. “Agnes, I think her name was? I can’t remember, but he’d write poems to her and perform them in front of the whole court. Everyone brushed it off as courtly love, no one knew it was requited and... consumed.”

“Consumed?” Franceza gave you a look that made you understand at once. “Oh... Surely not!” You hadn’t met Princess Agnes, but Yoongi claimed in his letters that she was a good wife. He praised her for being fertile and having borne him an heir barely a year into their marriage. Could it be... that Taehyung had fathered her son? The thought alone of him having an affair with a princess was past belief. Well, at least he fancied your kind.

“He wanted to elope with her,” Franceza continued, “but she refused, of course. After all, he was just a jongleur. A handsome one, but still beneath her. The king soon arranged a marriage with Prince Yoongi of Aquitaine and she dismissed Taehyung from both her bed and the court. When we next met him, he seemed a different person. Pèire says heartbreak changes men in ways women cannot understand.”

The following morning, you resumed your journey wistfully, after having to lie to Franceza by vowing to meet again. A part of you was starting to doubt there would be a coming back to Aquitaine at all.

“We won’t pass through PARIS,” Taehyung informed you as the horse that carried you both deepened into the forest. Because it had rained the previous night and the ground was all muddy, he’d easily been talked into letting you ride with him, in the same saddle. He was behind you, his chest acting as the back of a chair. “Pèire advised me not to, what with the political turmoil, and I agree.”

“Does that mean it’ll take us longer to get to Aachen?” For the first time, your complaining tone didn’t rankle Taehyung, as he knew he could’ve made a lot of money in the capital, and therefore shared your disappointment. Now, avoiding Paris was in your interest, but the cost of taking too long to muster an army to take back a kingdom could result in failure. So did your brothers use to say when debating about other wars over breakfast.

“On the contrary.”

Taehyung’s ever so short and almost uninterested replies made you remember what Franceza had told you about him. It was hard to imagine such a man writing love poems and losing himself to romance—or being pleasant to be around of, at that. There were worse tragedies that could happen to a person, like yours, and politeness was yet to leave your blood. Taehyung must be uncouth in nature, which led you to believe Princess Agnes had no taste in men.

But as you rode through that forest in silence, you came to appreciate his presence. How scary it’d be to find yourself alone there. Taehyung’s job entailed constant travel and he had only his horse to keep him company.

“Isn’t it lonely, being a jongleur?” you asked all of a sudden, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I could ask the same about a nun. Aren’t you lonely of men?” His implication made even the root of your hair turn red, which, along with your face, you were glad he couldn’t see. What he could feel was your body stiffening, but he made no mention of it.

As any woman, you yearned for a passionate love story that might as well be related by a troubadour, but you were wise enough to set aside fantasy in the real world. Intimacy out of wedlock would never cross your mind. The loss of a peasant girl’s virtue was of little consequence, but that of a princess would make news all across Europe. News that would perhaps be spread by Taehyung, as many approached jongleurs to learn of faraway happenings. Such as the fall of Aquitaine.

“I don’t need men to live.” Taehyung laughed, to which you frowned.

“If that’s the case, then why are we travelling together? Oh, that’s right. Because I am a man.”

An impulse to push him out of the horse had to be repressed.

Although he was right, you hated to admit. You were grateful for all he’d done for you so far, and for the warmth his body provided at present, on that chilly day. That warmth tempted you to ask, “Fair play. But if a woman can’t live without a man, then a man can’t live without a woman. Aren’t you lonely of women?”

“That I turned down that maid back in Engoleime doesn’t mean I do the same with all of them.” For reasons you didn’t know, the way his breath brushed your neck gave you goosebumps.

It was cold. Yes, that was it.

“I mean settling down,” you clarified, red again. “Starting a family?”

It took him a second to answer, ease gone from his voice, “No. I don’t long for that.”

No wonder, after the woman he loved had forsaken him to have a family with another man... Yours came to mind, and how death had taken them from you like Yoongi had taken Agnes from Taehyung. Except she’d gone willingly.

“To answer your initial question,” you tried to lighten the mood, “I was lonely of men, but after so long with one like you, I think I’ve changed my mind.”

You couldn’t see, but the corner of his lips quirked into a smile.

A week later, you arrived in ORLÉANS. French territory.

Luckily, you spoke the so-called langue d’oïl, so Taehyung proposed to use it between you instead of Occitan even in private not to risk the enmity of anyone. Albeit bitterly, you agreed. Festivals to welcome spring after a harsh winter decorated every town with flowers, flags, and joy, but rage clouded over you at all times, as you were certain people added the death of your loved ones and the conquering of your hated kingdom to their celebration.

From the stage on one of Orléans’ squares, Taehyung could sense how uncomfortable you were in the crowd. He never lost you out of his sight, and you always seemed to enjoy the show. What had changed as of late?

Once finished telling a two-hour long legend about yet another knight of fair renown, he helped you collect the money of those who could afford to give it. “Is something wrong?”

“I want this trip to be over, that’s what’s wrong,” you said curtly, regretting it before the sentence was over. Taehyung wasn’t to blame for your misfortunes. “But you did well back there... I liked it.”

His nod and subsequent silence told you he knew there was something you were hiding from him and that if you hadn’t told him already, it meant you didn’t want him to know. So there was little point in asking about it.

The rest of the morning was spent within that same square enjoying the work of other entertainers, some of whom were musicians. Their folkloric tunes invited everyone to dance but you and Taehyung remained away, both preferring to observe as you ate a piece of bread some baker had generously given you for free. That is, until a small group of girls dragged you into the action.

They meant well, just to cheer up what seemed two people who’d just attended a funeral, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend to be having fun. Especially because one of the girls kept making eyes at Taehyung, and he’d smiled at her! Was she the kind he’d not turn down? Were y–

“You little devil!” an angry male voice exclaimed, and you turned around to see a man grab a boy no older than eight by the clothes. “Give it back or I’ll have you whipped!”

You approached them without hesitation and owing to the element of surprise, managed to push the man away from the child, whom you shielded with your body. Taehyung quickly followed, although he wasn’t as eager to get in trouble.

“Leave him alone, he’s just a boy!” You glared at the man, who would’ve struck you for your boldness had Taehyung not been at your side.

“A thief is what he is! He stole my bag of coins, and I’ll give him a good beating if he doesn’t return it.” The boy hid behind your skirts like a pup behind his mother, guilt all over his face.

Kneeling to be nearer to his height, you asked gently, “Is it true?” and after he’d glanced from you to the man a few times, he nodded with his eyes cast down, handing you the bag. You flung it to its owner, who caught it in the air. “There. Count them if you must.”

The man shook his head, unsatisfied. “He should be punished for stealing!”

You stood up ready to defend the boy, but Taehyung stepped forward at the same time to block your way.

“He’s our son and he’ll be punished at home, rest assured,” he lied. “We apologise for his behaviour.”

His intervention was entirely welcome, despite the fact that to have a son so grown, he was making you out to be much older than you really were. Probably on the basis of this, the man wasn’t all that convinced Taehyung was telling the truth, but he wasn’t brave enough to challenge another male adult in public—least of all one who looked as intimidating as your fake husband. So he just left.

Soon, you found yourselves in a tavern, buying the boy a meal. Giraut, he was called.

“You are aware we have to feed the horse as well?” Taehyung complained you were spending his money once food was brought to the table, even though he would’ve done the same.

Giraut had shyly explained to the two of you that since his mother was too busy working in the fields to bring him to the city festival, he had come behind her back, on his very own, and because he’d not thought to take some money with him, he’d resorted to pickpocketing it when hungry. After giving him a talk on why that was so naughty a thing to do that it could’ve earned him a flogging, he’d promised never to do it again.

“I’m not eating if it means he gets to,” you said, surprised at yourself for doing so much for a subject of the king who ordered the death of your family.

“Well, I’m not offering to share my stew with you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to. You have the appetite of a bear.” Giraut giggled at that, and you ruffled his hair.

“You’re not from here, are you?” he asked. “You speak with an accent.”

“I...”

“Don’t be rude, she has a speech impediment,” Taehyung lied again, and you kicked him under the table. Of all things he could’ve come up with... “We’re on a pilgrimage to pray to a famous saint he heals her.”

“Beware of witches if you travel at night,” Giraut said nonchalantly as he chewed on his food. “They lurk in the forest when it’s dark.”

You didn’t know what scared you more: his words, or that he’d said them in a rhyme. Taehyung rolled his eyes at your reaction, clearly not one who believed in superstition—and surprised you seemed to. Didn’t you use to be a novice?

As soon as lunch was over, Giraut ran off home to his mother, and your trip was as well resumed.

The sun set earlier than either expected that night, something Taehyung just knew you attributed to witches. As if the growling of your stomach hadn’t been bothering him for hours on end, he’d also had to put up with your constant jumping and gasping every time the wind made the trees’ leaves swish. He damned the day he’d agreed to take you to your relatives.

“Scaredy cat, are we, Y/N?” he mocked you as he tied the horse to a tree.

“I am not! But I’m sleeping beside you tonight...”

“Fine. Just don’t think I’m possessed if you hear me snoring.”

“I’d get on the horse and never look back if that happened,” you confessed, snuggling next to him when he lay down and then covering you both with a thick blanket.

You’d grown used to Taehyung’s proximity. Sleeping on the cold, hard floors of inns was unseemly for a princess, so you’d joined him in bed before your first week with him had come to an end. That, too, would be frowned upon, but nobody need find out. Besides, there was no actual sin you’d committed to be ashamed of.

And so it was that you fell asleep next to Taehyung without the anxiety that came with fear, holding lightly onto the fabric of his sleeve as a way of assuring yourself that he wasn’t going to leave you alone in that forest.

He was indeed there when you were woken up in the middle of the night by the most terrifying sound. A far-off eerie singing.

The light of the moon and stars allowed you to see everything around well enough, but that was the thing. There was nothing there. Shutting your eyes and clinging even more to Taehyung, you tried to convince yourself that you were imagining the singing, dreaming it. When it stopped, you sighed in relief, your heartbeat and almost panting the only sounds in the forest.

Until a twig snapped in half. And then another one, and another, and so on.

Taehyung jumped awake because of it, grabbing the dagger he usually kept under his pillow and pointing it at the dark. “Where are they?” he whispered, but you were too frightened to speak, so instead gestured with your head at what you’d spotted moving in the distance. It was the silhouette of a woman slowly advancing towards you, face hooded by her cloak.

“A w-witch,” you managed to let out when she halted before you.

“Don’t be a fool. She’s just a woman, and unarmed, by the looks of it,” he told you, yet sweat glistened on his temples when the sound of multiple arrows being drawn somewhere amongst the trees proved him wrong. “Who are you and what do you want?”

The woman didn’t move as she said in her haunted voice, “She’s right, Taehyung.” Your eyes widened from under the blanket, where you lay paralysed by fear, but he refused to react, telling himself that there must be a logical explanation for her knowing his name. “As for what we want, it lies inside your chests.”

“Our... hearts?”

“Let me guess, for a spell?” Taehyung would’ve found the whole thing ridiculous had arrows not been pointed at you both. “So, what they say is true. You are servants of the Devil.”

What was he thinking?! As a way of telling him not to anger the witches, you kicked him on the leg, but he ignored you.

“Our magic comes from nature,” the woman corrected him calmly, “and we use it to help others as white witches. That doesn’t mean some spells don’t require sacrifices.”

Learning their magic was only medicinal gave you the courage to stand up and ask, “And why must it be us? We’ve not done anything to you.”

“Because we’re the only ones they can get away with murdering,” Taehyung answered for the woman. More than ever, you missed Sir Seokjin’s presence. And sword. “As travellers, we have no home, so we won’t be missed. The question is, how do you know so much about us?”

“Hear that, sisters?” she asked, a chorus of echoing laughter following. You and Taehyung looked around once more, but the archers were well hidden. “Handsome and clever. What a pity.” She raised her hand as a signal, and you held your breath when Taehyung embraced you, using his body as a shield. It all ended not avenging your family and fighting for your kingdom, but there, with him. “Loose!”

“No!”

Time seemed to have frozen as, eyes shut, you waited for arrows to pierce your body. But they never did, and you looked up from Taehyung’s chest to find out the one who’d shouted had been none other than Giraut.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the woman voiced your thoughts, and removed her hood to reveal her anger. They looked curiously alike.

“Not them, mother, please! They’re the ones I told you about, the ones who saved me!”

Clearly pretending she was unaware of that, she turned back to face you, and you and Taehyung separated, piecing together that she’d been caught in the act. “They’re the jongleur and his wife?”

“Yes!” Giraut exclaimed, making you look away in embarrassment. Well, you preferred wife to prostitute or servant.

The woman stared at the two of you in silence for ages, trying to make up her mind on whether she should allow you to live or not, regardless of Giraut’s presence. Eventually, she said, “I suppose it would be immoral to take the hearts of those who aided my reckless son.” Immoral fell short, in Taehyung’s opinion. “You can come out, sisters!”

One by one, the group of girls whom you’d met the day before at the festival came forward from out of nowhere. Ha! You knew there was a reason you’d disliked the girl Taehyung had smiled at.

“Are we free to go?” he asked, wishing nothing more than for this episode to be over already. He’d not be so meek if he weren’t outnumbered, though, and would kill them all for trying to do the same to you.

The woman glanced at Giraut while pursing her lips. She had no choice but to let you go if she didn’t want to earn his hatred. “I don’t see why not.”

Taehyung turned to you. “Then, pack up. It’s almost sunrise, so we might as well get going now.” In your tiredness, you groaned, but went to do as he said. Better to leave than remain among murderers.

“Wait.” The woman made you stop in your tracks. She approached you, and even though Taehyung had tucked the dagger into his belt a while ago, he gripped its handle again, wary. “I can see inside your soul.” You knew of what she spoke when she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Proceed with caution, for betrayal lurks in the shadows like we do. This is my prophecy.”

She leaned back and you would’ve stayed stunned there all night had it not been for Taehyung’s rushing.

As Pèire had advised, Paris was avoided en route to Aachen, something you were more than grateful for after the incident with the witches. Death had almost claimed your life twice and as they say, third time’s a charm—in the capital, there was a greater risk you’d be recognised. Giraut’s mother’s words lingered in your mind for that very reason, making you doubt Taehyung’s loyalty. Who else could betray you, when you had no one else?

Regardless of what was to happen in the future, he’d been expressing his frustration and remorse due to what happened. More had come out of his mouth in the last few days than in all the time you’d known him.

“I should’ve at least bargained for them to spare your life,” he beat himself up again. You were in the stables of an inn near REIMS grooming his horse as he angrily ate an apple outside the stall, “not stand there like an idiot waiting for us to be killed.”

“There was nothing you could’ve said or done, I’ve told you a hundred times. Giraut was our only chance at getting out of there alive.” To think others wouldn’t be so lucky...

“You could’ve tried something too instead of cowering under my blanket like a baby.”

You stopped brushing the horse for a moment to eye him askance. “Don’t speak while eating, dear, we wouldn’t want you to choke and die.”

He scoffed, “I prefer death by apple to death by witch.”

“That much is clear to me.”

“Will you stop wasting time talking and hurry up, child? I want to get to Reims before the day ends.”

Perhaps it would be good if he betrayed you. That way you’d have a legitimate excuse to have him hanged, drawn, and quartered. “I’m almost done!” Turning your back on him, you were going to give the horse its few final brushes, but a voice you immediately knew made you freeze in your spot.

“Good day! I’m looking for Taehyung the jongleur.”

Please, don’t let it be true.

“You’ve found him,” he said before biting into the apple again.

“Prince Jungkook of France stands before you. I’ve come to require your services at court.”

Holding your breath as though that would make you invisible, you heard Taehyung bow to him after a short pause of surprise. “Your Highness does me a great honour by asking in person, but I must decline.”

The prince was taken aback. “Why? I’ll pay you handsomely. My father’s birthday approaches, and I want the best jongleur in the land to sing to him at the feast, a month from–”

Your heart was pounding so fast and hard that it felt as though a nail was being hammered into your chest, attaching your feet to the ground, preventing them from moving. The fear those witches had conjured up to possess you didn’t come close to what you felt now.

Surely he couldn’t be there, having a conversation with Taehyung? Trying to charm him with the same smile that had played on his lips the day he put your family to death?

“Unless the king himself commands me to perform in his court,” Taehyung boldly interrupted him, “I won’t do it.”

“My command isn’t good enough?”

“Not equal to a king’s.”

Though unused to such bluntness, Prince Jungkook chuckled. The sound made you so sick that he probably sensed it, as you felt his gaze neglect Taehyung in favour of a sudden new interest that overcame him. It was time to turn around. “And who is this lovely flower? Your daughter?”

“Daughter?” Taehyung choked on his apple—which, in lighter circumstances, you would’ve made fun of. At present, you could only glare at your enemy. “She’s a travel companion. Y/N. I’m taking her to her family in the north from... Orléans.” To learn you were from the rebellious region he’d recently painted with blood was a risk that needn’t be taken. Who knew how he’d react.

“A pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady.” Prince Jungkook waited for you to curtsey, but you refused, instead daringly holding his gaze for some time until you turned away to finish grooming the horse.

“Y/N!” Taehyung scolded in a whisper you ignored.

“What an interesting pair you two are,” the prince mused, seemingly not offended, but amused. He took a deep breath to avoid a silence as he thought, then addressed Taehyung, “I will accompany you to your destination. Maybe I just need time to win you over, and after you’ve delivered your... companion, then you can come with me to court.”

Taehyung was going to deny him again, right? Prince Jungkook could not come along!

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Dread filled you whole on the way to Reims.

Given all the clues that led to your real identity, it would’ve been a miracle to not have yet been uncovered by the prince had it not been for your servant’s idea to switch clothes and die in your stead. He mentioned he was 'in disguise’ as well, although unescorted, boasting he needed no guards to protect him in case of trouble. You could attest to that, having seen him kill your entire family single-handedly.

Much to your disgust, he seemed to fancy you, and had offered to share his horse so that you wouldn’t have to walk. But Taehyung had fortunately noticed your aversion to him, which he attributed to your being Aquitanian and his having overthrown your king, and had made up that as a former cloistered nun, you didn’t feel comfortable around unacquainted men. So you rode with him instead.

“Tell me, then,” Prince Jungkook began, “where did your wanderings take you before Orléans?”

“Poitiers, Your Highness.” To hear the names of your cities in French instead of Occitan made you want to vomit.

“Ah, Aquitaine... If only I’d searched for you when I was down there, what a shame!”

Yes, well, you had been the one to find him.

“Your Highness was otherwise engaged.” Taehyung had to be mindful of his choice of words before royalty, but he found himself more intrigued by your reaction to the subject. How you looked away. He’d never have guessed you cared for politics.

Granted, you never had. When your father had announced his intention to make Aquitaine independent, you couldn’t wait, but not for honest reasons. Becoming a princess meant more prestige, more jewellery, and more attention. It was only after witnessing such slaughter that day that you understood your father’s hatred of the French, and his desire to be free of them. Now, hearing Prince Jungkook speak of the event as though it was nothing made you all the hungrier to restore your kingdom.

What annoyed you the most was that if things had been different, you’d have begged to be given in marriage to him. He was your age, handsome, charming… The one flaw he had was being a cold-blooded murderer. A flaw you’d soon share by carrying out your revenge.

“I was. There’s been unrest in the rebels’ land ever since, so I take it you’ll have gathered all sorts of opinions on the matter in your travels. What’s yours?”

It suddenly dawned on you that you’d never talked about it with Taehyung. Even when spreading the news of the taking of Bordèus, he’d appeared neutral. What if he’d been on France’s side all along?

“My opinion holds no value,” he said. “I’m just a teller of legends.”

“Alright, you don’t have to tell me,” the prince laughed. You wouldn’t look his way, but his next words did almost make you curse at him, feeling like a threat as they did despite his carefree tone. “But I hope we at least agree that in the face of treason, a lesson must be taught.”

That night you spent in the forest again. Nightmares of him smothering you in the darkness plagued your sleep until the morning, when the safety of sunlight comforted you enough to get a humble thirty minutes of rest. Then, Taehyung gently shook you awake, and you sat up beside him only to realise the two of you were alone.

“Where’s the prince?” you asked in a yawn. He couldn’t have gone far, as his horse and things were still there.

“Peeing.”

You looked around to make sure he wasn’t within earshot. “Where?”

Taehyung’s head whipped in your direction, “I didn’t take you for a pervert, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned just a bit closer to whisper, “I don’t trust him. I don’t want him to travel with us.”

“Prince or not, I won’t let him touch you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” That was a relief, actually.

“It’s not that…”

“Then what? Oh…” He understood before you could answer. “You fear I’ll go with him and leave you?” Again, that wasn’t it, but you did look down. “That won’t happen, you may be sure of it.”

You reckoned you should thank Princess Agnes for breaking his heart and making him never want to step on a castle again.

Reims went badly.

Not that you expected it wouldn’t, knowing the goddamned Prince of France was to keep you company while Taehyung entertained the town. At least he soon understood your lack of words meant you weren’t into his flirting. But the real problem was his presence.

It didn’t help your bad mood to see them drinking and laughing together that night in the inn’s tavern. Any desire you had of confessing the truth about who you were to Taehyung was fading away as quickly as a candle flame was by a breeze. They were growing too close for your taste.

“I promise you’ll be welcome at court. Everyone longs to see you perform, the troubadours first,” Prince Jungkook slurred after taking a gulp of ale. “Though I suspect that has more to do with the fact that I threatened to banish them should they write any more tedious songs about courtly love. They need new material and only you can give it to them.”

A romance hater. Yet another reason to dislike him.

Taehyung laughed, “Surely there are others. My friend Aliénor who lives in LIÈGE, she’s a retired jongleur, Your Highness, a good one. We’ll stay in her place for a couple of days, I’m sure she’ll not refuse if you ask her to take my place.”

“Can’t be that good if I haven’t heard of her.” Prince Jungkook shook his head, not willing to even consider it. Then, his eyes lit up. “But speaking of women, I might be able to pay you differently for your service.”

For the first time since meeting him, Taehyung blushed. Shyness was rare in him, you thought, if not unprecedented. “Your Highness, I…”

“Not whores. I mean having you married into the nobility,” Prince Jungkook clarified, and your eyes opened wide like those of an owl. “Mind you, it’d be the very bottom of it, you’re a jongleur after all…”

Taehyung was about to drink, but instead put his mug down on the table. “The nobility, you say?”

That was the last straw.

You stood up abruptly, earning a confused reaction from them both. Especially when you made no effort to mask your anger while saying, “I’m going to bed.”

“Sweet dreams…” you heard the prince mutter as you strode off.

Once curled up under the sheets, tears couldn’t help but stream down your face.

All it took the only person you thought you could count on to betray you was a profitable marriage arrangement? Not that Taehyung knew he was betraying you… but he’d vowed you were under his protection, and that he wouldn’t leave you! By befriending Prince Jungkook, you were certain his words would amount to naught if you told him the truth. And that hurt.

What if you didn’t tell him, though? What if he found out some other way? The witch had prophesied betrayal. She’d mentioned nothing of failure, however, so giving up before reaching Aachen wasn’t an option.

Not long after the tears had dried on your cheeks, you began to fall asleep, calmed by a silence that ceased when the door was opened with a hard thrust. You’d make sure to nag Taehyung the whole day of tomorrow for being a drunk brute.

Except… it wasn’t Taehyung.

You turned around on the bed to see one of the men who’d been drinking downstairs. Fear seized your heart. “You cannot be here.” He didn’t say anything, just staggered where he stood, ogling you with his mouth open like a dog. “Did you not hear me?” You tried to discreetly reach for the dagger under Taehyung’s pillow but of course, he had it on his person. “My husband will be here any second.”

“Oh, will he?”

Before you could get off the bed, he grabbed your legs to pull you close. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you managed to kick him in the nose with your heel, a defence technique Sir Seokjin had taught you but one that unfortunately gained you no time to flee, as it only made the man call you a bitch. If anything, he now seemed keener on getting his way with you, fighting through his drunkenness to get hold of your legs again, spread them, and get himself in between. “No, get off me!”

You were going to scream again when he was suddenly yanked away by his clothes. It was Taehyung and the prince, the former throwing the man on the floor to repeatedly kick him on the stomach and the latter offering his hand to help you sit up. You chose to sit up on your own, quickly fixing the chemise Franceza had given you as a gift and wiping the new tears on your face with the back of your hand.

Taehyung was still furiously beating the man up after minutes had passed, the disagreeable noise of kicks and grunts filling the room. At some point, you looked up at Prince Jungkook and said in a croaky voice, “Tell him to stop.”

He obeyed despite being a prince, but seeing as Taehyung wouldn’t listen, he separated him by force from the man, whom he then had to drag downstairs as he was in no condition to so much as stand up. You thought you could finally breathe, that the horrible experience was over.

Taehyung had other plans.

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Standing up, you approached him and narrowed your swollen eyes. “What was I thinking? You think I invited him?”

“I told you once what could happen should you be alone in a room,” he wouldn’t lower his voice, enraged, “so you might as well have!”

“I said I was going to bed, and you didn’t stop me! If you were so sure of what was going to happen, this is your fault, then!”

Taehyung hoped his glaring would burn holes into your skin. He stepped forward, almost closing the distance between you. “I’m not your nursemaid, brat! You should be on your knees anyway, thanking me for running to help you!”

A brittle laugh escaped you—not that you would’ve stopped it had you known beforehand. “I’ll be damned before I kneel to the likes of you. But if you hadn’t started screaming like a madman, you would’ve received my gratitude!”

“That’d be a first!”

“How dare you!”

Prince Jungkook re-entered the room in that moment, quietly closing the door behind him. “Your screams can be heard from the street, just so you know.”

“Good. If men hear for themselves how impertinent this child is, they won’t want to come and take her.” Glaring at him, you let out an exasperated growl.

“Instead of leaving it to luck, I’ll sleep here tonight. The more of us, the less they’ll dare.” Brilliant, just what you needed. Upset as one could get, you climbed back under the sheets, Taehyung snatching the pillow he’d share with Prince Jungkook and throwing it on the floor. “She gets the bed?” You glanced him a look that scared even a king’s son. “She gets the bed.”

Hours went by but you found it impossible to calm down, mind reliving what had happened over and over. How close you’d got to being robbed of your honour… And the one to blame not just for it, but for all your hardships, lay peacefully beside Taehyung.

The moonlight allowed you to study the scene when you sat up. Getting Taehyung’s dagger from under his pillow would result in him waking up, so that was out of the question, but Prince Jungkook’s sword, left reclined against the end of the bed…

It could be done, here and now.

You crawled on the feather-stuffed mattress until getting to the sword and gripped its hilt tightly so as not to drop it and give yourself away. Carefully, you wielded it into the air. It was a heavy blade, but you told yourself you needn’t hold it for long. Besides, the trickiest part was yet to come: slowly easing your feet into the old wooden floor. You held your breath the whole time, praying your weight wouldn’t make it creak while tiptoeing to the prince for if you were caught, sleepwalking wasn’t an excuse credible enough.

Once stood over Prince Jungkook, your pulse trembled with nerves. Far from the torture-filled revenge you'd fantasied about, but it would have to do. Holding the sword with both hands, you pointed its shaky end at his chest and took a deep breath… only for your mouth to be suddenly covered, muting your whines as you were dragged out to the hallway by Taehyung, who effortlessly stole the sword from you and threw it on the bed before closing the room’s door.

“Let me back in there, you don’t understand!” you tried to get past him in vain.

“I understand you’ve lost your wits, all right!” Taehyung was fed up, one step away from killing you. Your hysteria disrupted even his sleep. “I’m starting to think you’re the one who burned down the convent.”

“He did it,” you came up with, making Taehyung frown. It was a lie, yes, but one you could weave with some threads of truth. “He ordered French soldiers to start the fire because he hates my people. I barely escaped, but everyone I’ve ever loved was taken from me because of him. I have a chance at avenging their deaths and I must take it. Let me through, I beg.” Swallowing your pride from earlier, you fell to your knees and grasped at Taehyung’s, wetting his trousers with your tears. In a way, you’d spoken from your heart.

Taehyung wondered for a second why you didn’t tell him before, but he wasn’t exactly the sort of man who inspired people to vent their sorrows to him. He had enough with his own.

He helped you up and cupped your cheeks to make you look into his deep, brown eyes. With a gentle tone, he whispered, “Listen to me, you can’t kill a prince. Least of all in a guesthouse where we both signed our names on our way in. Do you see?”

The register had completely slipped your memory. You nodded in embarrassment.

“Good. Now let’s go back to sleep. I’ll think of a way to get rid of him when I’m sober.” Taehyung’s warm hands left your face to be run through his tired one. “One that doesn’t involve murder.”

Again, you nodded. It was unknown to you why, but his voice had soothed you enough to put an end to your crying almost immediately. Maybe that was why you hugged him without a second thought, burying your face in his chest in search of more comfort. It took Taehyung a second to react, but he did by softly caressing your head and then your back.

Afterwards, you followed him back inside. He placed Prince Jungkook’s sword at the end of the bed you’d just got in and copied you, embracing your torso from behind.

“What are y–”

“I’m not taking any more chances. Be grateful I don’t have a rope to tie you down with,” he whispered, to which you sighed. His hand found yours in the darkness, and you decided that for this once, his touch didn’t have to nauseate you.

The next morning found you in a strange mood.

Inside you brewed regret, relief, disappointment, comfort, wrath, butterflies… and you didn’t know what to make of it. The only certain thing was your massive headache—and that the room was empty, so you got dressed and walked out in a hurry not to miss breakfast, bumping into Taehyung in the hallway.

“Oh.”

“Morning,” he greeted, looking you up and down. “I hope you’ve not scheduled any assassination attempts for today too.”

Didn’t it tire him? Not being funny?

“About that… I wanted to apologise for last night. I wasn’t in my right mind.”

To say the least. Your biggest mistake being getting caught. Now, Taehyung knew you wished Prince Jungkook dead, and there was nothing holding him back from warning him, if he hadn’t already. He hated you, so why wouldn’t he have?

“I understand it must have been upsetting to see me fraternise with the man who’s caused you so much pain.”

Surprised, you shook your head. “He’s done nothing of the sort to you, I have no right to get mad because you respond to his favour as any man would.”

“I accepted his offer,” Taehyung informed you, and something sank inside your chest. “I told him he could patiently wait in his castle ‘til I returned from Aachen so you’d be free of him but after that man last night, he wants to make sure no harm comes to us.”

“How chivalrous.” You rolled your eyes. “You should write a song about him.”

“It’s less than a week to Aachen if we don’t linger in the festivities. Then, you will never have to see him again.”

“Or you…”

He did it without thinking. One moment he was gazing into your eyes, and the next his lips were drawn to yours like those of a thirsty man to a fountain. You were stunned beyond measure, but that didn’t stop you from kissing him back, mirroring the movements of his tongue as it swirled around yours, willing to take your breath away.

Taehyung’s hands made their way to your waist to pull you as close as your colliding bodies would allow him, and you slowly melted into the ardent kiss you’d always dreamed of. A kiss that was broken along with the spell you were under way too soon, when someone cleared his throat.

Prince Jungkook, of course, standing by the staircase with raised eyebrows. “The horses are ready…”

It was three days before you got to Liège and in that time, shame kept Taehyung from interacting with you any more than was necessary.

He truly didn’t know why he’d done what he had. Sure, he’d grown… tolerant to your presence in the past month, but when had that shifted into attraction?

And as if he didn’t have enough with that mystery, the prince had caught him twice in compromising situations. The first time had been upon waking up that morning, when suddenly, Taehyung wasn’t on the floor next to him but on the bed, cuddling you. The second… the kiss.

“So that’s why she hasn’t fallen victim to my charm, because she’s fallen to yours!” he chuckled while you alleviated yourself somewhere in the woods. To him, it was hilarious. “You should’ve told me she was spoken for. I wouldn’t have flirted with her, then.”

“She isn’t, Your Highness.” That’s all he had time to say before your return.

You entered Aliénor’s house quite reluctantly.

She was a beautiful woman of Taehyung’s age whom you at once knew was more than a friend to him, or at least had been. It wasn’t that she flirted with him brazenly like the serving maid from Engoleime, neither subtly like the witch from Orléans. No, she instead behaved like a wife would, looking at and speaking to him with love. To any man, she’d feel like home.

Taehyung had told you he lay with women, but you’d never stopped to consider he’d loved any besides Princess Agnes. Fool.

“All these years and you never told me you had a daughter,” Aliénor had joked when you were introduced, not at all making things more awkward. She was just calling Taehyung old, alright, but you couldn’t laugh when your alleged father had sucked on your lip but days before.

“You, too?” he’d sighed, nowhere close the same annoyance you were used to provoking in him. “What, I sired her at the age of ten?”

Two days you were to spend there before parting for Aachen, which was a day away, and they seemed to be unending.

Taehyung wouldn’t speak to you, for reasons known only to him, yet he was most talkative to both Aliénor and Prince Jungkook, planning the performance for the king’s birthday. Not just that, he’d also asked her to treat the prevailing wounds on his knuckles from when he’d beat up the man who’d tried to assault you. When you’d offered countless of times! His behaviour was both confusing and infuriating.

At last came the final day there and dinner was, for you, a series of personal attacks.

The Aquitanian conflict was first discussed—with Prince Jungkook and Aliénor siding against your disloyal family—followed by the heart-warming story of how she and Taehyung met and wandered together for years, and finishing with the subject of marriage.

Prince Jungkook mentioned the king’s council had proposed a betrothal to you once upon a time, which was shocking enough, but even more so the fact that he’d preferred to kill you than wed you. War to love… Aliénor, for her part, had been given by her father to a man twice her age who’d recently died, much to her happiness. Now she was free to heed to love, as she’d put it while staring at Taehyung.

That did stir some thoughts.

Princess Y/N was dead to the world and would remain so until you met Yoongi, so there were no rules you had to abide by any more than a peasant. Why shouldn’t you pursue love? You had no father who opposed the man of your choosing, no responsibility to ensure your heirs had a noble pedigree. Aliénor may be free, but you were frozen in time. Chroniclers wouldn’t record your life between Bordèus and Aachen.

There was just the tiny matter of why it was Taehyung whom you suddenly felt the urge to sacrifice everything for, when you despised him. Well, not despise, but… it wasn’t that you didn’t not unlike him. At all.

That was good enough for you to knock on his door late that night.

As you entered without being given leave, a shirtless Taehyung looked you up and down from the bed, where he lay with one hand above his head. “What are you doing here?”

You shyly fiddled with your fingers, in the absence of a ring. “I’ve got used to sleeping beside you, so now I can’t sleep if you’re apart.”

It had felt strange for him too to sleep in different chambers, but he was reluctant to let you in his bed. Something told him it was a bad idea. Still, he nodded.

As usual, you snuggled up next to him, but this time the silence became suffocating within seconds, and so you blurted, “When are we going to talk about the kiss?”

Even though Taehyung had known it was coming, the question still distressed him. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, he was unable to meet yours as he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take advantage of your vulnerability, I just didn’t think before I acted.”

“I never believed that was your intent.” You frowned. Was that it? Had he been ignoring you out of shame? “I… liked it, Taehyung.”

There was not an expression on his face you could read, no reaction, even when your trembling hand reached over and softly felt his chest. Judging by his heartbeat, Taehyung was sick with anxiety, which you wondered how he managed to hide so well. To try to calm him you caressed his naked skin, finding in turn that the action did the opposite to you.

The number of times you’d been so close to him, where one was able to feel the other’s breath, yet it was only after having tasted his lips that you were overcome by lust at his proximity. At merely gracing him.

Tracing a path downwards with your fingertips, you reached the blanket that rested on his lower abdomen and uncovered him to throw a leg over it and straddle him. That did finally get him to turn his head to you, a spell binding your gazes. With his wide eyes, Taehyung was asking what the hell you were doing, but with yours, you were answering you didn’t know at all, that you were timidly letting your body decide in your stead, based on instinct.

No lessons had yet been given to you in the act of lovemaking, but you needed none when your core came to contact with Taehyung’s manhood over your clothes. Waves of pleasure washed over you the moment you started grinding on it, and he seemed to be having a similar experience given his restrained, low grunts and hardening erection. The faster you moved your hips against it, the better it felt.

Taehyung wasted no time in getting rid of your chemise, exposing your breasts to grope them like he’d been wanting to for years. Such was the hunger they aroused in him that he gently pulled from your arm so that you’d bend over and his lips could meet them, tongue circling your nipples and sucking on them hard enough to make you moan louder than you should’ve.

Bodies pressed together, he kissed you fervently to muffle your moans, amused at the thought of their sound once he was inside you. He craved for it so much that his cock was beginning to hurt, despite your nonstop humping.

He forced himself to break the kiss to quickly take his trousers off, something you helped him do. It was dark, but you saw clearly how Taehyung’s cock sprang up, and how he jerked it as he ogled your body with half-lidded eyes. Not sure what to do, you only watched, mouth watering with desire, and he chuckled lowly at that, your lack of experience making him caress your cheek. You found yourself blushing, even more so when his fingers travelled to your lips, and he inserted them in your mouth to wet them.

Soaked with your saliva, he took them to your clit and started rubbing it painfully slowly, driving you insane. A curse did escape you, however, when he took advantage of when you’d closed your eyes to bury two fingers inside you. It didn’t hurt, you were just startled at the sudden, intense pleasure. Knowing exactly what he’d done, he smirked, the bastard. But you’d take every mockery if it meant he’d not stop rubbing that sweet spot.

The feeling almost drove you to tears, especially because you were focused on not letting every pant that left your lungs become loud moans. A part of Taehyung hoped you would, as he delighted in seeing you dazed and enjoying his touch so.

He was done being patient, sat up to let you know he wanted to change positions, be on top. You lay down and readily spread your legs for him, but gripped the sheets anyway while he stroked himself again with the juices of your arousal, dreading the pain to come. Taehyung noticed and to soothe you, sank his elbows on the bed to give you a chaste kiss that lasted longer than he’d planned. Having his lips over yours just felt… right.

“You won’t want me to stop once I begin,” he whispered in your ear to then nuzzle at your neck. Taking his word for it, your hands left the sheets and went to his cheeks to guide his mouth to yours again. So wet and warm, his tongue had you melting under him, now excited to submit to the heat and feel his throbbing cock. How could he have such an effect on you?

He slid in faster than you’d anticipated and so the sensation was welcomed with a gasp, but one of startlement and pleasure rather than pain. One that drove you to wrap your legs around Taehyung’s torso as he thrust and thrust his thighs hard against the back of yours, indifferent to the fact that anyone might hear what the two of you were doing.

To be honest, it turned you on even more. That if Aliénor had any feelings for Taehyung, he was pounding the life out of you under her very roof, within earshot of her.

And that Prince Jungkook believed you dead, yet you felt more alive than ever.

“You’re so tight, fuck…” Taehyung pretty much growled into your open mouth, wet lips gliding on your bottom one with each word, before he decided to bite into it so harshly that he almost drew blood. “You’ll make me come too soon.”

“Taehyung, make me come, please…” you panted, bucking your hips against his thrusts to feel him even deeper, hands pushing his ass closer as well.

Taehyung cursed to himself, basking in how desperate you were getting. If you’d asked him to, he’d have spent all night pleasuring you in any and every way he could think of, but your command had been another. When had your wishes, he asked himself, become orders he was eager to obey?

He got hold of your wrists and pinned them over your head, met with no objections. Only because he’d stopped moving were you going to protest, but in seconds you were glad you didn’t, as a loud moan would’ve no doubt interjected your sentence. Such was the zeal Taehyung was now fucking you with. It wasn’t long until your walls began to clench around his cock, a flame running from your core through your entire body, consuming it with an intensity that brought the stars to your vision. His own release followed after a few more thrusts, the final one earning another gasp from you, since you didn’t expect his seed to spurt shooting out of him like that, and to be so warm.

The two of you stayed still for a while, just catching your breaths as though it was the only thing you had any strength for. Truthfully… it was.

Your eyes had been closed ever since reaching your high and it seemed so had Taehyung’s, since they opened mere seconds after yours did, like he’d been woken up from the same dream. It was right then that he realised he was still holding your wrists in place, so he let go of your them and removed himself from on top of you altogether to collapse on the other side of the bed.

Having lain with a man out of wedlock should drown you in shame, but somehow you could only smile, no space for concerns in the cloud of bliss you were surrounded by.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you went to caress Taehyung’s chest again. You didn’t mind it was coated with a layer of sweat, just wanted to continue to feel close to him. But when you leaned forward to kiss him, he turned his head away. Actually, he seemed rather bothered.

“Did I not do it right?” You hated yourself for allowing your voice to break, even if it was what made Taehyung look at you.

“You were perfect,” he said, taking hold of your hand on his chest to kiss it. But before you could ask what was wrong then, he beat you to it, “I’m going to take some air.”

And just like that, he left you there, wondering what on earth you’d done to upset him.

He’d not come back by the time you woke up in the morning, just as you feared he wouldn’t.

Sitting up, you rubbed your face to rid it off sleep, but also out of stress. This sort of drama was the very last thing you needed and your heart was doing little to avoid being affected by it, by Taehyung’s actions. It was so pathetic you were becoming ashamed of yourself, but you did need to know what had gone wrong—if possible, before the end of your journey. So downstairs you rushed, set on resolving this right now.

It was in the kitchen where you found Taehyung, having breakfast with Aliénor. Prince Jungkook wasn’t there, probably still asleep as it was early. You didn’t care. What you cared about was that Taehyung had barely noticed you come in. Last night you’d been under the impression that nothing else but you existed to him, but today, the food on his plate was apparently more interesting.

To be fair, it had always been like that… but then why had he kissed you? Was it just that he’d spent too long without a woman’s warmth? That, now his lust was sated, he need not even look your way?

“Taehyung, may we speak? Alone.” Your tone made it clear it wasn’t a question. Aliénor was about to protest, as it was her kitchen you were kicking her out of, but Taehyung gave her a reassuring nod after which she obediently went upstairs. You remained stood, the silence in the room keeping you in place, yet he still couldn’t deign to look up. “We didn’t really talk last night. About that.”

“No, we didn’t.”

You sighed heavily. He wasn’t going to make it easy, was he? “Will you just tell me what your problem with me is?” He finally met your gaze only to frown. Unbelievable. “You’ve been an ass to me ever since the first time we talked and out of nowhere, you kiss me. Then you ignore me, then you lie with me, then you ignore me again. What am I to make of it?”

Taehyung obviously didn’t want to have this conversation, or be in such mess. He only said, “You’re the one who came to me last night.”

Crossing your arms with a scoff, you accused with overflowing sarcasm, “So that was your plan? To lure me into being the seducer so that it would be my doing? Bit twisted.”

“Just forget about it, child,” Taehyung sighed as he stood up, walking past to leave, but you grabbed his hand in time to stop him. Once more, he avoided your eyes, given how close you’d got—his senses still burned from the taste and feel of you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, please...”

Heart on your sleeve, or rather, on your frail voice, Taehyung felt compelled to answer, “What’s wrong is you were supposed to be under my protection. I was supposed to keep you safe, and yet I’ve made a whore out of you.” Your hand left his. “I will deliver you to your family tarnished, dishonoured.”

Anger began to replace your shock. “A whore? You think I’d give myself to a man I don’t… hold dear?”

“Didn’t you just say I’ve always been an ass to you?”

“You have and still are, but… I’ve come to the realisation that I don’t hate you all the time.” Taehyung laughed, and who could blame him? To tell him you didn’t hate him wasn’t enough. You took a deep breath. “I do feel safe with you, I did last night. But I don’t want you to keep your temper in check every time we talk, I want us to be at peace, for there to be no more quarrels.” You looked down. “For you to treat me like you treat Aliénor.”

“None of this matters, Y/N,” Taehyung said after a moment of processing. “We’ll part once we get to Aachen.”

“We don’t have to.”

“What, you want us to wed?”

“I’d not be allowed, but we might find a way to still be together, I might.” If Princess Agnes had kept him in her court, so could you. The question was whether he’d be willing to suffer a secret love affair again… Not to mention you were taking for granted that he loved you. If he didn’t, all of this was meaningless.

For the time being, he was staring at you as though you were mad. “You live in a world of fantasy.”

How could he be so hypocritical? After meaning to elope with a princess while being a jongleur! The words escaped your mouth before you thought them through, “I should be the one saying that.”

Taehyung cocked his head to a side. “Why?”

To your relief, the door opened right then, and you were almost glad Aliénor had come back so soon, before you were forced to make up some excuse. Except she wasn’t alone.

“Here she is, Your Highness–”

Prince Jungkook’s gaze fixed on you from the second he walked in, something different in it you couldn’t put your finger on. “Thank you, Aliénor, you may wait outside. And don’t be alarmed by the guards, they will not harm you.”

“Guards?” Taehyung stepped forward, you backwards in dismay when he walked in.

No…

Sir Seokjin.

“Seize her.”

“What?” Taehyung stood as a shield in front of you to protect you from an approaching Sir Seokjin, who in response drew his sword and pointed it at his throat.

Aliénor, still there, gasped. “Please, Your Highness, don’t!”

“Step aside, my friend,” the prince ordered. “You don’t want to protect an enemy of the French Crown.”

Taehyung wouldn’t move. “What are you talking about?” He turned his head around, but you couldn’t speak, the witch’s prophecy on a loop in your mind. Sir Seokjin was the betrayal lurking in the shadows? The same Sir Seokjin whom you’d known all your life? Who’d been sworn to your father, the king?

“Yes, I had assumed she’s been keeping from you that she’s Lady Y/N of Aquitaine,” Prince Jungkook said with a smug smile, taking pleasure in the shock on Taehyung’s face. The latter was going to say that it was impossible, but being noble-born would explain much of your behaviour. If only you’d deny it… but you kept quiet, eyes bright with tears. Now, you were the cowardly one who couldn’t face him. “See, I thought I’d killed her along with her treacherous family, but I met Sir Seokjin in town this morning and he told me I didn’t because I was travelling with her.”

“The king ordered me to fetch the prince back to court,” Sir Seokjin told Taehyung, his sword still raised at him. “I found him in Reims and have been following the lot of you since, waiting for him to be alone so I could tell him Lady Y/N was still alive, that he must’ve killed a fake.”

Seeing as he had no other choice, Taehyung stepped aside for Sir Seokjin to coldly hold you by your upper arm, like you were some criminal. Whatever he’d been promised in exchange for deceiving your brothers better be worth it. Prince Jungkook walked up to you but your eyes diverted to Aliénor, who’d gingerly hurried to Taehyung’s side to lock hands with him. On all fronts were you betrayed, it seemed.

“What was your plan, huh? To ask your cousin Lord Yoongi to take back Aquitaine?” The fact that he kept referring to your family with noble and not royal titles made your blood boil. Taehyung, for his part, felt a lump in his throat at the mention of Yoongi’s name, the man who married his first love. “As naïve as your father.”

He laughed when the tears finally streamed down your face. There was just nothing you could do. You’d lost.

“Let’s go, we leave for Paris at once,” Prince Jungkook said to Sir Seokjin, who nodded and pushed you towards the door. You had some seconds before he reached you to push you again, out of the kitchen, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take one last look of Taehyung’s face, daring not to see what expression painted it.

Instead, you just whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“This is more than you deserve,” Prince Jungkook said as he manhandled you into a bedchamber. “I’d have gone for a cell, but father said my future wife mustn’t be humiliated. At least, not in public.”

You had just got to Paris, an exact week after leaving Liège. An exact month after last seeing your family alive.

News had already spread through the kingdom like wildfire not only of your capture, but of your forced betrothal to Prince Jungkook. The king believed that marrying you into French royalty would put an end to the unrest in Aquitaine, prevent any uprisings. He’d allow for the reverted duchy to be yours but as your husband, the prince would own everything you did. In other words, all was for the sake of appearances.

“You’re abominable, sick to the soul. I’ll jump off this tower before I’m made your wife!”

A smirk tugged at Prince Jungkook’s lips. He walked closer, but you stood your ground. “Nothing would please me more, trust me, but I’ll have your lover strangled if you do.” Your heart missed a beat. “Oh, yes, I know. I heard.” He held your chin while staring at your lips. “Pity, had you not known whom I was, I bet it wouldn’t have taken long until you willingly spread your legs to me as well.”

The slap you gave him with all your strength erased the smirk off his mouth.

“Be grateful we won’t be married until we ascertain you’re not carrying a peasant’s bastard,” he said in a deep voice, glaring at you. “Hell begins for you the moment you can breed me heirs.”

“And what will our children think of their father when they find out he murdered their mother’s family? That he keeps her a prisoner with a wedding ring instead of chains? You think they’ll be proud?”

No remorse haunted Prince Jungkook. “They’ll learn from it not to show mercy to their enemies.”

Around a week earlier, Taehyung had arrived in Aachen.

He’d decided to finish the trip anyway to sing at the last of the spring festivals in the Holy Roman Empire’s capital, where he had pledged never to step in again many years ago. He would’ve honoured that pledge had it not been because he didn’t want anything to happen to you on the way there. Fat lot of good he’d been at preventing that.

First with the witches, then with that man in Reims, and at last with the prince. On his defence, it wasn’t as though a jongleur could’ve done anything to stop him from taking you. Besides, the house was surrounded by soldiers, he wasn’t even sure he’d get into that much trouble for anyone. Least of all, you.

You, who’d been lying to him all this time. You, who talked of love yet kept such a secret from him.

But at the same time… you wanted to find a way to be together even when you went back to being a princess. You were willing to risk your reputation for him, and he’d paid back that sacrifice by letting you be captured, be pulled apart from him.

‘I should be the one saying that,’ your words resounded in Taehyung’s head. So you knew. Franceza must have told you—who else? And despite it you wanted to make things work with him, just as he had tried back then with Princess Agnes.

Both of you felt something for the other that went beyond attraction and although neither knew exactly what, you’d been the one brave enough to want to find out. Taehyung had done the opposite, shielding his heart from that which once broke it. What if he’d done wrong?

After performing at one of Aachen’s squares, he collected the money of his audience as he always would before employing your assistance. This time, however, he was given a handful of gold coins from a certain someone he hadn’t spotted from the stage.

“Prince Yoongi,” he blurted out, eyes wide. He had hoped never to encounter him again.

They’d met before, when your cousin was courting Princess Agnes years back. Rumours of Taehyung’s involvement with her were whispered at court and had reached his ears, but he never paid heed to them, instead becoming an admirer of the jongleur’s work. He actually wished he hadn’t left right before his wedding, and had become a troubadour as his dream was known to be.

“It’s been a while!” Prince Yoongi embraced his stiff body with a grin. “You’re still singing about knights killing magical creatures, though? I’d add to the repertoire if I were you."

When he pulled back, Taehyung forced a faint smile, all his bafflement would allow him. He lied, “I’ll consider it, Your Highness.”

Prince Yoongi nodded, then led him away from the crowd, looking about to make sure he wasn’t being listened to. “I’ve heard the maddest rumour regarding you and my cousin.” For a second, Taehyung feared it was that he’d slept with you. “They say you were escorting her to me when she was captured by the French prince. She’s to marry him, now.”

It didn’t shock Taehyung when he’d first heard days before, but the news had still riled him up. “It’s true, only she kept her identity a secret, even from me.”

“Clever,” Prince Yoongi mused. “They say, too, that you’re to sing a song at the French king’s birthday feast.”

“I’m not so sure I’ll go…”

The prince put his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I must beg that you do, for it is how I plan to rescue Y/N. And while I’m at it, take France.”

The two weeks you’d been in Paris, you’d spent locked in your bedchamber, accompanied by the ladies-in-waiting the king had chosen for you. It was his birthday today, not that you cared you weren’t allowed to attend the feast in his honour.

To no avail, your time had been wasted by trying to come up with a way to escape the castle. Even if you did, soldiers would find you now that it was common knowledge that you were alive.

You sighed, looking out the window you were sat next to. The landscape wasn’t near as beautiful as the one back home, but it was better than the inside of that bedchamber, infested with spies who kept attempting to make conversation despite knowing you refused to utter a word to them. A month of putting up with Taehyung’s complaints over your slow pace had taught you to tune out unwanted noises, so thanks to that, the moment wasn’t ruined when you discerned an approaching army in the distance waving the Holy Roman Empire’s banners. You bit your lip to suppress a smile.

Although, it wasn’t long until your ladies became aware of the imminent battle. The sound of screaming, fighting, and dying down in the city and then inside the castle could not be tuned out by anyone, even you. Appalling memories of the day Bordèus was taken intruded into your thoughts but you casted them away, telling yourself that this time, your side would win.

Hours later, shouts of victory were heard, but from whom?! You wanted to look out the window, but your ladies physically forbade you from nearing it in case arrows found their way through its glass. Fair, though inconvenient. Pacing around the bedchamber they would allow, so you did that to try to calm your nerves, but it didn’t work. Too much was at stake.

Footsteps were then heard outside, and the first person that came to mind was the servant who’d swapped places with you. The second, the one who’d killed her. But when the door was kicked open, it was another who emerged drenched in blood.

Yoongi.

“Two months you haven’t written to me for, cousin!” he joked, doing a terrible job at acting outraged. “I’ve come to personally scold you.”

With a chuckle of relief, you ran to his arms.

“We’ve won?”

“We’ve won.”

On the way downstairs, he explained how he’d managed it.

Taehyung’s performance at the feast had been the perfect distraction, an event half of the kingdom’s nobility had attended—and all the castle guards. Even they wanted to hear the most famous jongleur in the land sing, the irresponsible idiots. Yoongi had expected at least a bit of resistance before his surprise attack, but the fortress that was French court had been taken with ease due to the neglect of their posts.

He also told you what the aftermath of this would be. Yoongi meant to crown himself king of Aquitaine and Princess Agnes, his queen. He was the last surviving male heir of your house, so you were fine with that, as it was never your intention to become a monarch yourself. You’d enjoy the title of princess again, the one your father had bestowed on you.

As for the domain of France, Yoongi would give it to his father-in-law, who had always kept an eye on it, on the condition that he respect Aquitaine’s independence. The king had been killed alongside the traitor Sir Seokjin but more importantly, Prince Jungkook captured alive. Two soldiers were holding him down on his knees when Yoongi led you into the throne room.

“He must die,” he told you on the way to him, loud enough to make the words reach his ears, “I thought you’d want to be the one to do the job, after all he’s done to you.”

The nobles were nowhere to be seen, had fled before the fight began, but you wish they hadn’t so they could witness how you looked down at their overthrown, seized prince with disdain. The purple of bruises mixed with the red of blood on his face, as though a painter had spilled his paint all over him. To see him glaring at you like that, sulking over his defeat, gave you immense satisfaction. So much so, that tears of joy threatened to fill your eyes.

Yoongi was about to hand you his sword, but you shook your head.

“I won’t kill him today.” You leaned down close to Prince Jungkook, so that he had nowhere else to look at but your eyes. “I’ll make sure you pay for the murder of my family. You’ll come to regret it dearly, I promise you that.” Humiliation and shame kept him from responding as they had kept you the day you’d been found out. “We’re taking him home with us, lock him in a cell for now.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” both soldiers said in unison, then dragged Prince Jungkook out of the throne room. Your gaze followed him until someone else caught it.

Taehyung.

You’d assumed he’d left already not to meet you but there he stood by the entrance, mirroring your speechlessness. He’d never seen you in fancy clothes and gold jewellery, dressed as a princess. He thought you looked beautiful.

Yoongi right away realised his presence was needed anywhere else but in that room. “I’ll leave you two alone, shall I?”

Taehyung didn’t approach you until the big doors closed behind him. He looked the same as always, but so much was different now…

“You came for me.”

“A coincidence,” Taehyung swore. “I had the performance scheduled already, remember, Your Highness?”

You were tempted to roll your eyes, but smiled instead. “Don’t call me that... I’m Y/N to you.”

“Y/N,” he repeated faintly with a nod. An awkward silence then fell upon the room, neither knowing how to break it. After what seemed an eternity but was likely two seconds, you supposed you ought to.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t think I could trust anybody with the truth, I was scared.”

“I understand,” Taehyung said, then huffed out a laugh. “I reckon you wanted to tell me in more than one occasion to receive treatment worthy of a king’s daughter.”

“In a way, I appreciated your honesty.” You pouted before glancing down a couple of times. “Taehyung, does this mean you’ll come to Aquitaine with us? To be with me?”

“Us. You, Prince Yoongi, and Princess Agnes…” The way he pronounced her name told you he still grieved her love, like the knight from the made-up ending of the story he’d sung that first night in Engoleime. He’d been talking about himself. “I cannot, Y/N.”

You’d figured he’d say that, but you weren’t going to give up so easily. “As a woman, my virtue is the most valuable thing I have. I gave it to you knowing I’d be shamed for it because I am highborn and you are not, because we’re not married or even would be allowed to be, because it is a sin to give in to lust, because my future husband couldn’t trust the heirs I’d give him would be truly his… I did it because I love you. I know now.”

“You just listed all the reasons why it cannot be between us.” Taehyung smiled wistfully. “I lied to you once. I do long to settle down with a woman I love, but I don’t want to do it in shame.”

The realisation that he’d already made up his mind struck you. It didn’t matter that you loved him and were willing to risk it all for it, he wanted something you could never give him.

Even though Taehyung couldn’t replace your family, he’d managed to fill the void they’d left behind. It wasn’t something you’d expected might happen, but fate worked in strange ways, especially when it made you fall in love with him. Now that you’d achieved victory by avenging your loved ones’ deaths, you just hadn’t stopped to consider it might turn on you and empty that void again. It was cruel.

“I’m sure Aliénor will make an excellent wife to settle down with,” you muttered rather pathetically.

“Aliénor?” Taehyung frowned. She’d made her feelings for him obvious to everyone, yes, but why were you under the impression he reciprocated them? "She’s not the one I love.”

You nodded with your head down, holding back tears. Taehyung could tell you didn’t believe him, so he cupped your cheeks and kissed you as softly as he knew how, intending for his love to linger on your lips afterwards. Maybe that way you’d believe him. Although you couldn’t think at all at present, lost in the feel of him. Taehyung must deal with magic to be able to banish sadness from your pounding heart so.

“At least, promise me I’ll see you again,” you begged in a whisper when he reluctantly pulled back.

“I promise, Y/N.”

“If you come to Aquitaine, you’ll always have a bed in my castle… But just one, in just one chamber. Mine.”

⇢ drabble: nightmares

#bts fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #bts au #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #kim seokjin

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