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#i respected their commitment to the theme

icyblueroses · 2 months

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!!!! My This Place Will Become Your Tomb vinyl finally came in and holy shit I can’t get over how gorgeous it is. Obviously the cover art is so cool

But it also came with an art book depicting a whale fall and all the sea creatures associated with the songs on the album in a sick art style?

And the vinyl itself is just such a stunning color?

#they had a theme and they committed to it 110% and I respect that so much #10/10 vinyl purchase #I’m absolutely obsessed #I didn’t even mention how they have the coordinates on the back #it’s so nerdy I love it #sleep token

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illogicalvulcans · 1 year

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every once in a while someone i follow does like a complete 180 rebrand, url/icon/theme/fandom content all at once with no warning, so i embark on a quest to uncover who tf they were bc i have never seen them before in my life but tumblr is telling me ive followed them for eight years

#its like enrichment for my enclosure #a little puzzle game just for me #esp when its like. a complete genre shift haha #i respect the commitment #like you woke up today and decided it was Time To Change and just went out and did it #im too indecisive it takes me like a week at LEAST to pick something every time i change my theme even a little bit #illogical rambles

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two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 months

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Sometimes I get hit with names for future pets out of nowhere (although in this case the potential need for a name is a bit more real)

So far I've been very good at naming the pets that I have named. Even tho I named them while they were kittens and I didn't know anything about their personalities both mercedes and harleys names fit them extremely well

Now mercedes name came from my moms first cat. Also a calico. I never met this cat as she died before I was born (she had some rare disorder and wasn't very old) and when we got my mercedes I had actually been considering an all white kitten in the litter before I noticed the tiny calico. But the second I saw her I knew she was mine and that her name was mercedes like my moms old cat that I'd heard stories of my whole life. (According to my mom that name fit my mercedes much better than it did her first cat)

Id had harleys name picked out for years. I decided in middle school that I would have a cat named harley one day. I spent many years seeing cats and pictures of cats (specifically calico cats) but it wasnt until I saw harley that I knew I'd found the cat for that name. Her name fits her perfectly.

Layla came with her name. If id thought of something that suited her better I wouldve suggested it but it fit her pretty well. Chewby also came with her name. Its not a name I probably wouldve come up with but it definitely fits her (chewby chews)

But I have an ever growing list of names for future pets and they all are for specific breeds (or coat colors in regards to cats)

Kaia will be a German shepherd. Specifically a long haired one.

Skye for a border collie

Salem for a black cat (because of course)

But recently I was hit with a name for a pitbull as a couple of my dads friends pits are gonna have puppies

Rebel

Which is funny that thats the name that popped into my head

Cuz my cats name is harley

And rebel is the name of a model of motorcycle made by Honda and is the type of bike I was considering when I wanted a motorcycle

This was not intentional

Going with harley after mercedes very much was

But I hadnt thought about wanting a bike in years

Meaning I hadnt thought about that specific bike in years

But THATS what hit me for a dog name

Anyway

#im probably not even gonna get a dog any time soon #but man i am unintentionally committing to a theme with my pet names here #rogue and riot are also names i like for dogs #rogue is at the very least a type of nissan so that would also be on brand #anyway i have the magic touch with cats apparently #when i was over at aspens they kept mentioning how helios took forever to warm up to their mom and fiance #but he was coming to me for pets after a couple hours of me being there #tis the tism #puts me on the same wavelength as most cats #so we just vibe #but frt it is almost entirely because im quiet and respect their space #its the same reason im able to win over most dogs pretty quickly

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sassydefendorflower · 1 year

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One of the biggest “I love you”s in Fullmetal Alchemist are all the ways people respect each other’s bodily autonomy. There are two scenes that carry this theme to its fullest potential, and I love them so, so much.

The first one is quite iconic: Riza’s throat was slit and Roy has a chance to save her - by dooming their country and committing human transmutation. And Roy would do it. He would throw it all away just to save her, even though he knows that human transmutation is an unforgivable sin. But she looks at him and signals him to Not Do It. And he doesn’t. He wants to, but he doesn’t do it. Because only minutes earlier, he hurt her again by dooming himself (and potentially the country) with his fury. And if there is one thing Roy Mustang doesn’t want to do, it’s hurt Riza Hawkeye any more than he already has. Even if that means watching her die. Even if that means letting her go.

He respects her and their goals enough to say no.

He loves her enough to let her die.

The second one is just as heart-wrenching: after Al sacrificed himself, basically dying in the process, Ed tries to think of a way to save him. Both Hohenheim and Ling offer him a Philosopher’s Stone to bring Al back - and Ed says No. Even though he wants nothing more in life than to save his little brother. Even though there is nothing he wants more desperately than the safety of Al. He says no for many reasons - Hohenheim is his father after all, Ling needs the stone to become Emperor - but mostly he says no because he and Al promised to never use a Stone for themselves. And he respects that. He puts Al’s wish above his own desire to see his little brother again. He respects Al’s decision (his own conviction) enough to break the rules of the world to find another way.

Because he loves Al - he loves him enough not to break the fundamentals of their principles. He loves him enough to respect the integrity of their believes.

And the narrative rewards both Roy and Edward for their choice to respect the agency and bodily autonomy of their loved ones - they survive, are saved, are brought back... and neither Ed nor Roy had to force their own desire for them to live on clearly stated last wishes.

So often we see media portray the disregard for bodily autonomy (especially in medical contexts) as a sign of love, the breaking of patient-doctor confidentiality as a sign of care, the violation of a living will as a sign of family - I like to think that Fullmetal Alchemist shows us that there’s strength in respecting it instead.

#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royai #edward elric #alphonse elric #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #my post #sacrifice

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casualhedonists · 5 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism (lmk if i forgot anything!) murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here

chapter: 1/? (chapter 2 here)

MASTERLIST

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

A/N: this is what happens when i let my brain loose to do whatever tf it wants (title is from attention by doja cat as is the general theme)

Show you how to touch it Hold it like it's precious It don't need your lovin' It just needs attention

You were getting tired of this charade.

Snow was courting you, or so it would seem. In truth, it was all for show. He was seen with you on his arm at public events, just enough to make it look like you were together. Marriage was probably further down the line, but Snow was in no rush for that to happen. For now, he was pleased with the positive attention he received for appearing like a reliable, loving, doting partner.

“There’s a science behind it,” Cordelia, Snow’s preferred public relations manager - and one of the Capitol’s best - had told you in a meeting between the three of you, discussing strategy, coordinating events, and how best to make the relationship seem authentic. “The more the public see you as grounded, committed, and warm, the more respect they hold for you. The more open they are to your ideas, and any changes you make as president.”

You’d concealed your smirk well enough for it to go unnoticed upon hearing that.

Snow was a lot of things, but he was never warm. The name itself decreed it. He was cold, calculating, sharp witted, manipulative. Power hungry.

You were fine with the arrangement at first. It suited your thirst for power; despite coming from one of the richest families in the capital, Snow’s power was of a different breed. You wanted in, and so when your social circles crossed over and the proposition was made, you’d risen to the occasion.

The reality was this: it was a good arrangement. Coriolanus was adored and admired by any outsider with a pair of eyes, and you got anything you wanted. You got to live in the manor house Coriolanus occupied, eating good food while being waited on hand and foot. You got to network with powerful people in the highest of society. Even if you wanted someone executed, it would be carried out in turn, without question. Name it, and it was yours. Snow was a generous host and ally to you.

It was everything you wanted.

Almost.

Somehow, despite it all, all the custom gowns shipped in from the expensive designers, the buffet spreads and the silk sheets, the way that people had begun to stare in respect as soon as you walked into a room, there was just one thing that itched at you, one thing you knew wasn’t part of the plan.

It was Snow.

Somewhere, between the light kisses in front of expectant eyes, the gentle hand on yours at dinner, that was hurriedly removed once you were behind closed doors again, you’d grown a gnawing, incessant want towards the man that had given you almost everything you could ever hope for.

Eight months, this had been going on. Eight months since Snow suggested this business proposal. Sex was never a part of the deal. And of course, you couldn’t sleep with anyone you pleased; that would be catastrophic for both of your reputations. And so it had been eight months since anybody had touched you other than yourself, biting your pillow so nobody could hear Snow’s name on your lips as you gripped the sheets. Even if you wanted to sleep with other people, you couldn’t. Truth is though, you’d developed rather expensive taste. A taste for only him. Even if you had the choice, nobody else would do.

You wondered if he ever thought of you while he touched himself. That thought slipped into your head every so often, when your hand was between your thighs. Then it became a more frequent occurrence. Then it became a nightly one, and by then, you were pretty sure you’d started going crazy.

You weren’t a romantic - this arrangement would never have worked if you were. You were like him; power hungry, relentless, impatient. And most of all, when you wanted something, you got it. And you wanted to seduce Coriolanus Snow.

So you’d started leaving breadcrumbs. Put an extra glint in your eyes when you glanced over at him, in public, first, and then in private more and more. You’d thrown out dozens of your more conservative dresses, keeping only the shortest ones that hugged your hips and dropped tantalisingly low on the neckline. Started wearing them more around the house, pretending to drop things just so you could bend down in front of him.

You estimated this act would last for a good week or two before Snow folded.

You were wrong.

If anything, it seemed to render Snow even more indifferent to you than he’d been before you started playing your little games. And each time he ignored you, glanced unimpressed at your outfit then looked away, or full-on walked right past you out the room, you started to simmer even more.

A normal girl in a normal situation would take a hint, cut her losses. But you were no normal girl, and this was no ordinary situation.

You had to be in the same boat, surely. Snow was still just a man, after all. A man with similarly limited options, and you knew he must’ve at least found you a little attractive, else he wouldn’t have chosen you to parade around on his arm in public, in pretty dresses and expensive jewellery.

Snow’s indifference only fuelled your fire. Sure, an ordinary girl would just give up. But eight months of this torture and you were at your breaking point. Besides, it was either him, or nobody. You weren’t giving up. Not in this lifetime.

So you got more obvious. Started taking breakfast in your nightgown each morning instead of getting dressed, sitting opposite Coriolanus with several feet of the mahogany table between you, biting into grapes from the fruit bowl and letting the juice trail down your chin, wiping it off then sucking your fingers clean, humming with your digits in your mouth, glancing at him with full-blown bedroom eyes when he’d look over at you from behind his paper.

It was no use. Nearly a month had passed and he’d barely even looked at you for more than a second at a time. Your conversations were short, lacklustre and strictly business related. You’d even tried playing on his heartstrings, asking about his day and work and his family. You were lucky if you got more than blunt, one-worded answers every time.

You’d exhausted yourself with all these failed attempts, until one Thursday night you heard footsteps walking past your bedroom door. This wasn’t abnormal - Snow kept extensive household staff - except for the sound of these were different. You recognised the faint clicking of heels against the hardwood, a sound you heard all the time at galas and balls, but never in these halls, when an event was nowhere on the radar. And this was one such night.

Your curiosity led you off your bed and to the door, gently opening it to glance outside. Whoever it was had turned the corner, the clicking fading down the hallway. You carefully closed the door behind you and began to follow the sound. A chill ran up the backs of your legs as you walked; it was getting slightly colder as winter closed in, and your bedroom attire wasn’t exactly fit for the weather, given that you picked out the laciest, most impractical slips to sleep in, ready for your performance the next morning at breakfast.

You paced down the corridor, winding past the door to each room, a study, a small library (the larger one was downstairs), Snow’s office, and then finally, at the end, the door to Snow’s bedroom.

Oh.

This room was always enigmatic to you, as you’d never been inside. Your obsession with Snow had led you to wonder, day in and day out, what lay behind that door. The color of his bedsheets, what sat on his dresser, the contents of his closet, what aftershave he wore that had caused you to develop a practically pavlovian reaction anytime he got close to you.

You paused, a few feet away from the door, fearing Snow’s response if you crossed that line, if he were to walk out and find you hovering between his office and his room, clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

You heard shifting, then voices inside as you focused all your attention onto listening, trying hard to pick up on the conversation. You took another tentative step forward, practicing in your head what you would say if he stepped outside. I just wanted to ask what you wanted me to wear on Monday’s gala, I was thinking the white dress with the gold detailing. It wasn’t too late in the evening for that to be a viable excuse, if you could make it sound convincing enough.

But as you got closer you noticed something. There was a soft light spilling out from behind the door, which was in fact, just slightly ajar.

Snow usually kept the door locked at all times, you knew that from testing the handle - admittedly more than a few times - when he had been out of the house, and you were certain he wouldn’t be home for hours. This was something different. This felt dangerous, like walking a tightrope that was about to get cut, but the thrill of adrenaline pushed you forward.

You’d stopped hearing voices by then. You snuck ever closer, ears starting to ring as you found yourself drawn to the open door, taking silent steps towards it until there was no going back, and your body was practically flush to it. Holding your breath, you peeked through, pushing it ever so gently, praying that it wouldn’t creak. You had to crane your neck slightly to see any movement in the room, but it didn’t take long to see it, and when you did, you certainly didn’t feel cold anymore. Any curious whims on the color of his furniture and walls were long pushed to the side, because you couldn’t have focused on anything else in the room if you tried.

Snow was sat on a deep red velvet ottoman at the foot of his bed, shirt buttons undone and pushed behind him, leaving you with a full view of his chest. Your eyes panned down to see his usually pristine dress pants rolled carelessly down, pooling around his ankles. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a similarly rushed manner. One hand was behind him, propping himself up, and the other was tightly gripping a handful of blonde hair, belonging to a girl that knelt at his feet in nothing but black underwear and stiletto heels - the culprit of the footsteps - moving her head up and down as Snow roughly guided her, lips parted, head tipped back, eyes firmly shut, breathing roughly. A few strands of damp blonde hair had fallen to his temples, just enough to make him look disheveled, yet somehow still regal, like a greek god.

You stood there, frozen. A million emotions battling for dominance in your head, anger, panic, fear, raging jealousy. Desire.

That was the one that stuck with you in the moment. It was a good thing Snow’s eyes were closed and the girl’s back was facing you, because your feet were firmly planted on the ground, watching this scene unfold, and you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you tried. Watching as Snow’s breathing got heavier, as his grip on the girl’s hair got tighter and more forceful. Watching as her one arm gripped his thigh, and the other moved to where her mouth was, out of your eyeshot, and the obscenity of this was made somehow worse by the fact that you couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

Firstly, because it allowed your brain to fill in the blanks as Snow hissed through his teeth and dropped his head back. Secondly, because from this angle, you couldn’t see the girl’s face, and you were able to picture yourself in her place, wet mouth wrapped around him, being the cause of his undoing.

Come to think of it, there was another reason you were glad you couldn’t see her face, and it was purely for her sake. Because if you could’ve seen her, you would’ve had no excuse not to kill the bitch then and there.

You could hear, though. You could hear her soft moans and the lewd wetness of her mouth as her head moved even faster, before Snow took full control as his hips started to jerk, holding her head in place. There was a fire in the pit of your stomach and your lips were parted, staring. Knowing that if even for a second, Snow opened his eyes just for a glance, he’d see you immediately. You’d be hanged, probably. Or worse. And yet you didn’t run; you couldn’t. Nothing on God’s earth could’ve caused your feet to turn you around and leave the room. It was like you were suspended in some dream-like state, hearing going fuzzy, head spinning.

Then Snow started groaning, breath hitching in his throat as he got closer to the edge, you could hear it. Your brain began melting, and you didn’t have time to think through what would happen after he was finished and he saw you. If you were going to be hanged for this, it would be worth it, you thought, as his hips started to jerk even faster and his groans turned into strained whispers. Fuck and that’s it and good girl, and finally, as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and he came into her mouth with a strangled cry, you heard a name.

Yours.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth #ugh i haven't written in so long and this is my first time writing for this fandom go easy on me pls

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hotvintagepoll · 6 days

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Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Julie Andrews (The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins)—Oh where to start .... I'm not sure I even know how. She's just perfection. And it's not fair I can't bring post 70s work into this, because she just gets better and better, and her drag performance in to die for. But in the era I CAN talk about, she shows she has THE RANGE. Beautiful, feisty, funny, holding her own against Christopher Plummer, Paul Newman, Rock Hudson. Oh she's luminous.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Julie Andrews propaganda:

"She has such a simple but amazing beauty to her. Not to mention her amazing and melodic singing voice!"

"Roles like nannies and governesses can make us forget how attractive she was! A perfect combination of elegant and adorable, with the most incredible vocal range to boot!"

"Besides having one of the most amazing singing voices ever to grace the silver screen, Julie always had an understated beauty to her that wasn't always shown off on screen. But it's there nonetheless because her characters managed to pull some of the hottest men ever to grace the screen."

"The juxtaposition between carefree Maria and stern but fun Mary Poppins shows the power of the acting of this HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMAN"

"Charming, genteel, incredibly charismatic, beautiful, and has an angelic singing voice to boot. Her screen roles as Maria in The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are absolutely iconic for a reason and she originated several well-known Broadway roles before those."

"the most beautiful woman 12 year old me had ever seen possibly"

"OMG OMG OMG she’s definitely been submitted before how could she NOT but!!!! I loveeee her so muchhhh rahhhh prebby!!!! cool!!!! mary poppins the beloved <33333 some people dislike it but I love jolly holiday so much because it IS a jolly holiday with Mary!!! no wonder that it’s Mary that we love!!!!!"

"I know many people who were taught in singing lessons "when in doubt, pronounce words how julie andrews would pronounce them." THATS CALLED INFLUENCE. THATS CALLED MOTHERING THOUSANDS."

#julie andrews #maría félix #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4

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screaminghomosexual · 1 year

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I deeply respect all the people who watch Goncharov and can discuss the themes and symbolism after one watch because it genuinely took me years to pick up on anything past Robert De Niro doing the worst Russian accent ever committed to film

#goncharov #some of your dads don’t force you to watch this movie every Christmas and it shows

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s-brant · 1 year

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Judas

Upon returning to King’s Landing, an unexpected betrothal is arranged to make peace between Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent’s children.

13k (18+)

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, arranged marriage, and violence. (smut in part two, stay tuned).

The last time she saw Aemond, they were mere children.

It was the morning after Leanor Velaryon’s funeral at Driftmark, not even a full week following the passing of his dear sister, Laena, and she was watching from the saddle strapped across the back of her dragon as he and his mother strolled along the beach side by side. She made a point of doting on her young son more than she had in the past due to the loss of his eye. Her arm was draped over his shoulder, her hand rubbing up and down his arm, and, yet, he didn’t seem consoled by her sweet touch. All he did was stare off at the horizon, his face hardened by the years of cruelty from his own brother and the prospect of having to face more ridicule due to his disfigurement.

That was the final glimpse she got of him for years, and, since moving to Dragonstone with her family, she hadn’t been back to visit King’s Landing once. Instead, she spent her days flying on dragonback, committing to her studies, and learning to fight with a sword from the best warrior she knew. Her father.

While all of her siblings refer to him as their father due to the union between him and their mother, Y/N says it with a certainty none can question. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra ever meant to admit to her. In fact, it wasn’t her mother who told her at all. It was Daemon. After an afternoon spent fighting, Valyrian steel clashing against Valyrian steel in a symphony of practiced violence, she asked him the question that would confirm the suspicions she had for most of her young life.

Jace, Lucerys, and Joffrey were sired by the late Sir Harwin Strong, that much she knew from the countless rumors hurled at them as well as his consistent presence when they were small, but she knew she was not his nor Laenor’s. It was an open secret amongst all who knew them. And, when confronted with it, Daemon met her with honesty. It was less to do with her and more to do with him, however. He couldn’t bear to pretend she belonged to anyone but him, so he told her.

“Issa drēje, ñuha dōna riña,” he said in their native tongue to keep any guards nearby from eavesdropping.

It is true, my sweet girl.

He tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear in a display of affection not entirely uncommon for his favorite child. It was no secret that he favored her most. After all, she was the heir to the throne, and she retained the very best of his and Rhaenyra’s respective personalities. Then, of course, there was the small fact that she was his, not Harwin’s. He loved his step-children, of course, but she was his most cherished creation of Rhaenyra’s by far.

“Nyke gīmigon istia daor jaelagon naejot rȳbagon bisa, yn i’ll va moriot sagon drēje lēda ao. Ñuha lēkia refused naejot wed zirȳla naejot nyke skori ziry ryptan, sīr ziry teptan zirȳla naejot laenor naejot ruaragon ziry bē,” he explained. I know you must not want to hear this, but I’ll always be honest with you. My brother refused to wed her to me when he heard, so he gave her to Laenor to cover it up.

He then looked at her, and she held his gaze without balking from the intense stare that many unfortunate souls met before taking their last breaths. To her, he wasn’t a monster. He was a ghost she spent her whole childhood chasing after. She still couldn’t believe he was real.

“Yn nyke va moriot jeldan naejot sagon iā kepa naejot ao. Gaomagon daor mirre másino bona.” But I always wanted to be a father to you. Do not ever question that.

With that, a grin broke out on her face, and she nodded along with tear-filled eyes. They never spoke of it again after they returned to the castle where Rhaenyra and the boys were settled at the table for dinner together. It didn’t have to be said aloud again, though. Now that she knew for certain, she didn’t need to dwell on it any longer.

For Aemond, the days they spent at Driftmark for the funeral of Laena Velaryon were a conflicting period of time. For Y/N, it was the beginning of her happiness. All she wanted was to know the truth, to know her father, and that was the first time she was allowed to.

Now, she isn’t sure if she’s as happy as she once was.

The breeze blows her hair from her shoulders as she descends upon King’s Landing atop Vermithor. Like Aemond, she too was raised without a dragon. It was something they once bonded over as children until he nearly bashed her younger brother’s face in with a rock the night he claimed Vhagar. Shortly after their return to Dragonstone, she made it her life’s mission to claim the beast who dwelled in its solitary lair on the island.

Flying settles her nerves better than anything else. Wine tends to make her wallow in sorrow more than anything, talking with her parents only ends in lectures or reassurance she does not seek, and since she is not a male, she cannot frequent brothels without consequence like her brothers could to relieve stress. The only retreat she has is the sky.

Seeing that the rest of her family left by ship ahead of her, she doesn’t expect to see any others on dragonback nearby. As she scans the sky, she sees nothing but the city spread out ahead of her and the endless expanse of ocean beneath. That is, of course, until she sees the shadow passing over her head.

Bigger than her own by a decent margin, she knows that the dragon casting a shadow onto her cannot by any other than the largest in existence. She doesn’t make the mistake of tipping her head back to take a look, however. She makes the choice to feign indifference rather than give in to the demand for attention Aemond shows through flying so close overhead. Unlike her brothers, he doesn’t frighten her, and that small difference in attitude is certain to annoy him.

Vhagar swoops down in a steep dive in front of her, and she hardly has the chance to steer Vermithor out to the right to avoid being smacked with the other dragon’s long tail.

Sensing his sudden state of unease, she reaches down to stroke her gloved hand along the surface of his rough skin and says to him with the same tone her mother uses to soothe her in times of distress, “Lykiri, Vermithor. Lykiri.” She scoffs at the sight of a man with long silver hair to match hers riding on Vhagar’s back. “He poses no threat.”

As expected, Aemond does not taunt them any more than this. The sound of his dragon’s wings flapping in the wind overpowers that of the waves crashing onto the land as they both make their way to the Dragonpit. The folk living in the city whip their head around to catch sight of the giant creatures descending upon them with equal parts fear and enchantment. Targaryens are closer to Gods than men, so what can mere mortals do but watch as evidence of their superior existence shoots through the sky on a set of gargantuan wings?

With Vermithor promptly landed on the sandy ground as far from Vhagar and her rider as possible, Y/N dismounts him with a tired sigh, muscles aching from hours of riding, and climbs down onto unsteady feet. She greets her escort, Ser Harold, with a bright smile despite Aemond’s antics, as well as the reason for visiting in the first place, weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Queen Alicent means to call into question Jacaerys’ inheritance of Driftmark in the absence of Lord Corlys, and, by extension, call the legitimacy of all of Rhaenyra’s offspring into question as well. Y/N remains mostly unconcerned by this. She knows in her heart that she is a trueborn Targaryen, and whatever Alicent may have to say about her brothers will do nothing to change it. So long as King Viserys remains steadfast in his declaration of his daughter and her children as heirs to the throne, there shouldn’t be much to fear.

Just as Aemond turns from his beloved dragon with the intention of beginning the journey back to the Red Keep on foot, the sound of Y/N’s voice halts him.

“Hello, Uncle,” she says with a pointed stare.

He shows no issue with staring right back at her.

“Niece,” he says with no real emotion to the word.

“It has been a while since we last met.”

With one glance, she deduces that he has changed in the time they’ve spent apart. For one, the bloodied scar she saw covered by bandages in the days after Lucerys maimed him has been healed and hidden behind a leather eyepatch. Whatever it is that lurks beneath, she hasn’t a clue. The rest that is visible to her searching eyes is surprisingly agreeable.

He has a strong, sharp jaw, pretty lips, and he stands tall above her height with the sinewy figure of a fine swordsman. As much as it pains her to admit it to herself, he has grown into a handsome man. If it weren’t for the purposefully off-putting demeanor, ancient dragon, and the intimidation accompanying his eyepatch, there’d likely be droves of highborn maidens begging their fathers to set up an advantageous match with the prince.

His stoic face displays no reaction she can discern before he says, “It has, Princess,” and walks off without deigning to speak another word to her.

The first two hours of her arrival are spent becoming acquainted with her chambers and washing the stink of dragon, as her dear grandsire always called it, from her body before formally greeting Queen Alicent and reconnecting with her parents. For as long as she could get away with, she submerged herself in the in-ground, marble bathing tub flooded to the brim with steaming water and gazed out of the opened windows with daydreams of flying back home on Vermithor at once. The citrus-scented oil one of the handmaidens poured into the water washes the sweat and proof of her flight from Dragonstone from her long hair and skin. By the time she dries off and allows the ladies waiting outside of the bathing room to help her dress, she looks brand new.

Her hair is half-up, half-down with simple braids keeping it from falling into her face, and her dress is one of her favorites that was brought on the ship with the rest of her bare necessity belongings. It used to belong to her mother—rich, red fabric with a neckline that hangs off the shoulders with a gold belt cinching her waist and cuffs that circle her wrists. The sleeves are cut open at the center to display her arms, and she cannot help but smile at the sight of her reflection.

Navigating the familiar halls of the Red Keep keeps her occupied on her way to find her parents and brothers. On her way, she passes many servants and guards, all of whom she offers a tight-lipped smile, and walks until she reaches the gardens, then the training yard at the front gate to the castle grounds where she finally spots her brothers.

“Jace! Luc!” she shouts to garner their attention and hurries down the steps to meet Jacaerys in a tight embrace.

She only speaks again once they’re pulling apart, one arm wrapping around Lucerys to pull him into her side, “I missed you both terribly. Dragonstone is not the same without the rest of you residing there.”

Both of them grin at her, their brown eyes crinkling at the sides, and try not to pay attention to the whispers of the onlookers in the yard who call attention to the differences between the boys and their older sister. When standing beside each other, it couldn’t be any more clear. Where their hair is dark, hers is paler than snow. Where they are shorter than their uncles and step-father, she is taller than them both and carries an aura of otherworldliness her mother passed along to her.

At the sight of Lucerys’ gaze shifting toward a clustered group of three talking amongst themselves while looking at them, Jace speaks before she gets the chance, “Pay them no mind, brother.”

Her hand strokes through her younger brother's brunette hair as though to soothe him the same way she had done with her dragon hours prior, and she nods.

“Come, let us watch the men train while you catch me up on what I missed on your journey here. Tell me, did mother and father bicker the whole time? Seasickness makes her quite short with him, and he detests traveling by ship rather than dragonback.”

With that, the three of them launch into a conversation revolving around the events of their voyage here. Due to her combined seasickness and pregnancy-induced illness, their mother was short with everyone, not just Daemon. Jacaerys said that when Joffrey decided to jest with her by chasing her down while holding a rat he found at the bottom of the ship, it took Daemon shooing everyone, the rat included, from their room to prevent her shouting at everyone in her path. As sweet as she is, even their mother has limits when it comes to her boys behaving less like princes and more like pests.

Y/N is still giggling to herself at the thought of it as they come to a stop around the edges of the small crowd that has gathered to watch Ser Criston Cole fight with another man. Through the bodies forming a wall between them and the action, it takes the Princess murmuring, “Excuse me,” softly a few times for her and the boys to reach a decent spot.

The second she gains a clear view, her smile drops.

Though her brothers may not recognize him from behind as she does since they have not seen him in years, she knows it’s him the second she catches a glimpse of his hair swaying with his body’s sharp movements. Her earlier assumptions are quickly proven true. A fine swordsman indeed, she realizes as Aemond spins around with his sword raised at Ser Criston’s neck with an expression that takes pride in his victory before the knight can even form the words.

“Well done, my Prince,” Ser Criston says, panting.

The sword is lowered from his neck without another word from Aemond, and, just as he thinks he might ask Cole to go again, he catches sight of her on the edge of the crowd. Of course, he has no choice but to notice her first. Among the people watching them, she is one of few with hair the same shade as his. Another huge small factor contributing to him noticing her first would have to be her being the only woman present. Although adorned in fine clothing and jewelry fit for a Princess, she looks as though she is comfortable where she stands in the midst of clashing swords and leering men.

His eye follows the neckline of her dress that leaves her neck and shoulders exposed, and he finds his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening involuntarily. His jaw clenches at the delicate slope of her neck giving away to her shoulders. For a second, she finds it difficult to breathe. When pinned down beneath his intense stare, what else could one do but go still and quiet and wait for chaos to ensue?

He shifts his focus to the boys flanking her on either side.

“Nephews,” he says by way of greeting, “Have you come to train?”

She watches in her periphery as Jace opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words, and almost speaks up on their behalf to say their mother is expecting them back soon, but they are saved. The doors to the castle gates open with a thunderous rumble, and everyone’s attention turns from where it had been transfixed upon her siblings to the man who strolls in.

Vaemond Velaryon.

Under her breath, Y/N mutters a hardly audible, “Of course,” with a scoff nobody else surrounding them notices. Except for one. It shouldn’t surprise her that Aemond picked up on her disdain for Corlys’ nephew whom she knows without a doubt will aid Alicent in her attempts to steal her brother’s inheritance from him. Her uncle’s eye remains locked on her as she watches Vaemond walk up the path leading to the castle, and it isn’t until the older man disappears from view that she notices his staring.

Right when Aemond expects her to avert her eyes with the same reproach her brothers have for him, she does the very opposite. How he could ever expect the daughter of Daemon Targaryen to shy away from a challenge, he doesn’t know, but he finds himself surprised all the same.

“Apologies, my Prince, but our mother is expecting us back soon. She sent me to fetch my brothers,” she says without breaking their stare. “Perhaps you may train together at another time.”

She ushers the two younger boys away with a hand on each of their arms without allowing their uncle to get another word. Payback, she supposes, for his curt attitude with her back at the Dragonpit. Over her shoulder, she casts him a glare that could cut a weaker man to the bone. It conveys every word she has yet to say to him, telling him, “If you lay a hand on either of them, I will cut your heart out just as my brother did with your eye.” Her hair swishes in the afternoon breeze as she turns to look ahead of her once more and leaves him standing with Ser Criston Cole in the training yard.

“The Princess is the very image of her mother, is she not?” Ser Criston asks, drawing his attention back to him.

Coming from him in particular, that isn’t the compliment those around them assume it to be. Alicent and Ser Criston have never spoken candidly of what incited their shared distaste for Rhaenyra other than her passing off her bastards as trueborn princes, but Aemond is not a fool. He can sense it in the way Ser Criston speaks and acts regarding his aunt and her children that the reason lies deeper than moral outrage over bastard children.

All Aemond offers in response is a quiet hum in agreement as he sheathes his sword.

The rest of the night following their run-in with Prince Aemond was uneventful for the most part.

Though she did lie to allow her brothers a quick escape from the man who has been yearning to exact revenge against them for years, the first thing she did was find her mother. She and Daemon were coming back to their chambers after speaking with Queen Alicent, and their faces lit up at the sight of their daughter despite how difficult it was to see Viserys in such a state of suffering earlier in the day.

Rhaenyra ran her hands down the sleeves of her dress, feeling the years-old fabric slipping through her fingers, and said with a nostalgic smile, “You look beautiful, my love.”

It was something she heard from her mother at a constant rate, but it warmed her heart even if it were the millionth time she heard the words spoken to her in that soft, caring tone of voice. A moment later, Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, murmuring something about how good it was to see her.

Now, as she sits at her mother's feet and allows her to braid her hair before she’s off to her chambers to sleep for the night, she flips through a book she found in the library after dinner and becomes lost in her thoughts.

The way Aemond looked at her today in the training yard…It was strange. Not strange in the sense that she has never seen a man look at her like that before. She has. In fact, many men far too old and below her station have looked at her like that and met the glares of her fiercely protective parents who, by the grace of the Gods, agreed to her wish to put off marriage until it became absolutely necessary. No, what made the way Aemond looked at her strange had less to do with her lacking experience in witnessing men admire her beauty and more to do with the fact that it was him.

Of course, he is merely a man. Many gossiping court ladies she overheard when she was little said they are more susceptible to the temptation of the flesh than women are, but she’s never felt the way she did when she caught him staring. There was a rush of heat blooming between her thighs under the skirts of her dress, and she could hardly stand to hold his gaze for the duration of the moment. It felt wrong to feel that way when he was looking at her brothers like they were prey to kill seconds after staring at her.

“I visited Helaena and her children today,” Y/N says suddenly to distract herself from her current train of thought. “I suppose they liked me. They kept pulling at my skirts to get my attention as Helaena and I spoke. She is a wonderful mother to our little cousins.”

Though she couldn’t see it, Rhaenyra smiles and says, “You will make a wonderful mother too one day.” A long pause. “Did you see your uncles as well?”

She shakes her head, which causes her mother to tighten her grip on the strands of hair she’s braiding down her back, then offers a murmured apology before going on to respond to the question.

“Well, I saw one of them. Aemond landed with Vhagar in the Dragonpit when I first arrived. Then, at the training yard, he spoke briefly to Jace and Luc. Thank the Gods I did not have the misfortune of running into Aegon.”

The consistent pulling and twisting of Rhaenyra’s fingers braiding her hair goes still for a moment.

“You do not prefer Prince Aegon, then?”

She scoffs.

“He is a miserable cunt.”

In the connected room, the sound of Daemon’s wry laughter in reaction to the insult echoes and reaches their ears with ease. The hatred her father has for every Hightower in the Red Keep is not hidden from anyone, least of all her, so when she hears him laugh, she cannot help but grin to herself.

“Y/N…” her mother chides.

“I know it is not nice to say such things, but everyone knows it to be true. Helaena is the one I prefer of all your siblings. She is kind to everyone. Aemond is…tolerable, I suppose. A fine swordsman. I prefer both of them to Aegon.”

Rhaenyra hums in consideration of her candid statement.

“As do I.”

It only takes another five or so minutes for her to secure the long braid in order to prevent it from coming undone in her sleep before sending her off to bed. A kiss is pressed to the top of her head as a goodbye, then she is escorted to her chambers by one of the guards stationed outside of her parent’s door.

The throne room is flooded with people by the middle of the next day.

On one side, she, her parents, and her brothers stand before a crowd of curious observers who will surely gossip about what they are to see here today. On the other stands Queen Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. As always, Alicent is dressed in one of her finest green dresses to hammer the extent of their division home as if it weren’t already clear enough, while Rhaenyra wears one of black and red. Her brothers and father wore black by coincidence while Y/N, ever the loyal daughter, picked out a gown to match her mother as closely as she could.

The sight of her decked out in full red and black Targaryen regalia prompted Aegon to snort an unbecoming laugh when they walked in as a family. Alicent was quick to quiet him out of fear that those surrounding them would hear and look upon them unfavorably over his rude behavior. Meanwhile, Aemond simply stared.

She can feel it from across the room despite her attempts to ignore it—that same heated gaze he set upon her yesterday is back. If she weren’t so determined to her feigned act of indifference toward him, it would make her want to squirm in discomfort. It’s impossible to focus on what venomous words Vaemond spouts about her family and why he should inherit Driftmark in place of Jacaerys when she can feel Aemond’s eye on her.

To his credit, he looks away whenever her father scans his gaze around the room. If Daemon saw one of Alicent Hightower’s sons ogling his daughter, who knows what he may be compelled to do? So, every time Daemon’s focus strays from the man pleading his case to the Hand sitting atop the throne, he makes certain to look at anyone but her. Whenever her father’s eyes return to the front of the room, however, he goes straight back to it.

The only thing that manages to break his stare is the sound of the doors to the great hall being pushed open in the midst of Rhaenyra’s speech.

A masculine voice booms through the open space of the hall, “King Viserys of House Targaryen, first of his name!” Every person in the room gasps or takes a deep inhale of some sort at the sight of the frail old man that appears in the doorway, stumbling into the room with a mask covering half of his deteriorating face and a cane in hand. “King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm!”

It is painful to watch him struggle his way down the length of the room, and, considering that, she cannot imagine how much worse it must be for him. Every breath he takes is labored and shallow, heaving for air that evades him at every rise and fall of his chest. The side of his face visible to them all appears pale with dark circles and bags beneath his eyes, leaving her to wonder how much worse the other side could be to necessitate the mask concealing it. It has been years since she last saw her grandsire, and, though she knew he was ill, his current state is worse than she ever could have imagined.

Y/N watches with wide eyes as he approaches where Rhaenyra and Otto Hightower stand on either side of the room with the throne to bisect them in a line of demarcation. There are only two sides as of now—green and black—yet here he stands at the center to bind them together with what little strength he has left in his weary body.

His head cranes to the side to face Otto.

Viserys says, “I will sit the throne today,” and that is that.

It doesn’t get any easier for his family to watch him on his way up the stairs. And though he refuses the help of the guards, he does not tell his brother to back off when he appears at his side to retrieve the crown that slid off of his balding head and escort him the rest of the way to the throne. A soft smile crosses her face at the sight of her father placing the crown onto his head, and she welcomes him back to her side with her hand extended when he walks down the stairs with it never having left her face.

Feeling his rough hand in hers steadies her for what comes next. For having to endure the glares from Vaemond and her uncles when Viserys declares her brother the rightful heir to Driftmark. For having to listen to the hushed whispers that always occur at the sight of Jacaerys and Lucerys’ dark hair and features that resemble that of their biological father.

As the king calls the Princess Rhaenys to speak on behalf of her missing husband, her grip tightens enough for Daemon to give it a reassuring squeeze back. It tells her not to worry. It tells her that he and her mother will die before they let anything happen to her or her dear brothers.

Rhaenys stands with her hands folded in front of her and holds her chin high as she says to her cousin, “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Jacaerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him.” A knowing glance is cast at where Rhaenyra stands side by side with her eldest son, and, in response, Y/N’s mother nods. Just once. “As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luc, to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Y/N’s gaze immediately turns to find her father with as much subtlety as possible, and he gives her a nod similar to the one her mother gave Rhaenys to confirm that they plotted this together. It’s difficult not to smirk to herself at the mere thought of the panic Queen Alicent must surely feel as a result of this. She can always count on her parents to be one step ahead, can’t she?

“Well,” Viserys starts, “the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Alicent’s eyes avert to the ground in what Y/N guesses is disbelief and shame. Shame for her husband who has never, not once in the course of their marriage, chosen her and their children over himself. Although she admires Viserys’ love for his only daughter, Y/N cannot pretend to miss the sorrow evident on his wife’s face. Still, she finds it hard to have much sympathy for the woman who came after her mother with a knife years ago and actively tried to supplant her brother in the line of succession. Then, there’s the matter of Aegon. In her eyes, a mother who shields her perverted son from the consequences of his actions is no better than the son himself. If Y/N is to bear her future husband a son, she will be sure to raise him the way Rhaenyra has raised her honorable brothers.

Across the room, she catches Aemond’s eye once more and tries to refrain from shifting in place so as to not alert her father of the matter. Seeing that Daemon is rather protective of her, she wouldn’t want to spark any more chaos today than there already has been. This time, however, Aemond does not look at her with the same desire from yesterday. He assesses her from top to bottom, sizing her and her family up as the threat they’ve proven themselves to be.

Their attention is quickly called elsewhere when Viserys speaks again.

“It seems I have another announcement to make. A joyous one, to be sure.”

Her grandsire looks at her with a fond smile, and she can feel dread curling in the pit of her belly like an asp readying itself to strike.

“After speaking with the Princess Rhaenyra, my daughter and I have reached an agreement regarding the betrothal of her eldest daughter.” Imperceptibly to anyone but her, Daemon’s hand tightens its grasp on hers at the announcement that neither of them expected. “I hereby announce the betrothal of Princess Y/N of House Targaryen and my son, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen.”

The room erupts with the sound of gasps and whispers from the observers as well as a few members of the family who hadn’t been clued into the plans of her mother and grandsire. With a quick look around the room, it seems that nobody was informed ahead of time, not even Aemond’s mother. It’s hard for her to think, let alone conjure the ability to speak in order to whisper to her father not to make a scene or challenge the word of his brother. All she can do is try to breathe as deeply as possible through the shock and stare across the room at her uncle as though to ask him if he knew.

By the way he looks back at her with an equal amount of surprise, or, at least, as much as his inexpressive face will allow him to display, he did not know either.

What followed the announcement of her betrothal to Aemond mattered little to her. She did not bat an eye at her father’s cold-blooded murder of Vaemond, nor did she say a word to anyone as she walked in step with her family out of the great hall. To her mother’s terror, Y/N did not make a face or utter anything on the journey to her parents’ shared quarters with her brothers following closely behind.

She has never known her daughter to be a closed-mouthed woman. Growing up, it was something she prided herself on as a young mother—that ferocity, that fire—and admired about her only daughter. That is why Y/N’s silence is troubling by comparison to her typical demeanor. For someone who inherited her temper from her father, someone who has the blood of the dragon flowing in their veins, silence is a precursor to deadly rage.

And when the door closes behind Lucerys, the dragon is unleashed.

“How dare you?” she spits the words with tears welling up in her eyes. “You’ve damned me to a marriage with a man who couldn’t be bothered to speak more than a few words to me after years spent apart! I don’t wish to live here without you, and father, and my brothers, it’s like being thrown to the wolves! Dragonstone is where I’m happiest, mother, you know that!”

She stands in front of her entire family, excluding her youngest brothers Aegon and Viserys who are being tended to by her mother's handmaidens, pleading her case as though she is being put on trial. Jacaerys and Lucerys know better than to offer a comforting touch or words of encouragement at the risk of getting caught in the crossfire, but the sympathy visible on their faces is more than enough to offer the support she needs. The two of them know better than anyone why she is upset at the idea of her betrothal to Aemond. After all, it was Jace whose head he nearly bashed in during a fight years ago and Luc who cut his eye out in defense of him.

Rhaenyra attempts to reach out to her only to have the touch rejected with a gentle shove to the arm to prevent her from holding her daughter’s hand.

“My love,” she says softly, sighing, “I know this is not what you would have envisioned for yourself, but I needed a plan. With you and Aemond wed, with him as your prince consort and the father of your heirs when you ascend to the Iron Throne, the division between our families will cease.” When Y/N scowls at her, she adds, “I took your feelings into consideration to the best of my ability. Your grandsire proposed that you and Aegon be betrothed years ago, but I refused him as a result of your desire to wait until you were older. Then, I proposed Jacaerys and Helaena wed, but Alicent refused. This was the best I could do to benefit both you and the realm.”

The younger woman’s jaw clenches with rage as she forces herself to remain civil and not spew the first nasty words that come to mind. She does not want to say things she will regret later in the heat of the moment, but, fuck, how can any of them expect her to remain calm after what Viserys and Rhaenyra did? Her fists clenched with enough force to break the skin of her palm with the blunt edges of her nails.

Y/N turns her heated gaze to Daemon and asks, “Will you do nothing to stop this, father? You hate the Hightowers just as much, if not more, than me. Do you not give a shit about your daughter being used as a political pawn by your brother?”

Although angry himself, Daemon’s eyes narrow at her abrasive tone of voice.

“Watch your tongue,” he warns. There’s a pause during which he raises his brows at her as if in a challenge, then relaxes his face when she sighs in reluctant obedience. “Your mother and I will discuss this matter privately. As of the present moment, what the King says is law, and you will mind your tone when speaking to your mother.”

Beneath the formality of his words, she can sense his ire for the decision Rhaenyra excluded him from making with her and Viserys. She knew as soon as it was announced that her parents would be going back and forth in argument until the late hours of the night over it, but her mother is not a closed-mouthed woman either. Seeing that she is the heir to the throne, her word holds more weight than his, and if she wishes for her daughter to marry Prince Aemond, it will happen regardless of Daemon’s protests.

Y/N presses her hand to her forehead and turns to face the wall, rubbing her temple as if that will do anything to soothe the thoughts racing through her head. If not even her father has the power to protect her from her fate, what else is she to do but surrender herself to it? Instantly, the wheels begin to spin in her head, and she conjures up the conditions it will take for her to bind herself to Aemond One-Eye.

She turns around and wills her face into a mask of composed poise.

“I have conditions.”

Her mother cannot help but mutter, “Oh, Seven Hells,” under her breath to herself while her father suppresses a chuckle.

“I will do my duty and marry Prince Aemond for the sake of the realm, but I will not forfeit my standards. I know Queen Alicent will want her son wed in the Grand Sept in the tradition of her faith, but I demand a traditional Valyrian wedding as well. Whichever comes first matters not to me, but I won’t forsake the tradition of our ancestors.”

Since childhood, she has dreamt of marrying her eventual husband in the tradition of her house just as her mother did with her father, and no matter how insistent Alicent may be, that dream isn’t one she is prepared to give up without a fight. If she is being taken from Dragonstone and given to one of her sons, the least she can do is accommodate her wishes for her own wedding day.

Rhaenyra offers her a tight-lipped smile.

“Your father and I will support you in that decision, I swear it.” She then asks, “What else?”

“There will be no bedding ceremony. That is sacred, and private, and should remain between us as husband and wife.”

The only thing she can imagine being more mortifying than having to wed a man who does not care for her is having to bed him in front of her grandsire, as well as other grown men and women she would prefer not see her in a state of undress. Not to mention, she would have to resort to burning Aegon to a crisp with Vermithor to avoid him pestering her until the end of her days over what he would witness in the ceremony.

“I agree,” her mother says. “I have no doubts that you and Prince Aemond will fulfill your duty. I see no need for a bedding ceremony either.”

With the silence that follows, the realization that what’s happening to her is, in fact, real nearly knocks her off her feet. Until now, she didn’t have to face it head-on without the buffer of her argument with her parents and the conditions for her agreeing to the marriage between her. That dread she felt in her belly has now spread to the rest of her body and holds her hostage. Yet, through the panic, she recalls the way he looked at her when they were in the training yard and hopes that basic level of desire will be a sturdy enough foundation for a functioning marriage.

She isn’t a fool. She knows that her marriage will not be loving, nor will it be what she wanted for herself in the past, but her mother is right. It is the best opportunity to keep the peace between their families, and marrying Aemond is a better alternative to what could have been with Aegon had her mother agreed with the King those years ago.

“Well, then, I suppose it’s already decided, is it not?” Before either of her parents can get a word in, she turns to her brothers and asks, “Jace, Luc, would you mind escorting me to my quarters? I wish to be alone until we are called to supper with the family.”

They both nod.

When it comes time to walk into the dining room, Y/N isn’t sure if she wants to enter.

An hour or so after she left her parents in their chambers, her father came to visit her in hers. The expression on his face was downcast yet subdued in the way it always is when he’s to deliver her bad news. All it took was one look at his face for her to slam the book she was reading shut and toss it onto the table in front of the chair she was lounging in. Her hair was disheveled from the braids she took down, and she wore her simplest, most comfortable dress available. She looked, for lack of a better word, a mess.

Daemon stalked across the room to her with his mouth clamped shut, one hand on the hilt of Dark Sister, and knelt down on the carpet in front of her. One of his hands reached for hers, and he held it. Without saying anything for the first moment or so, he held her hand because he knew it was what she needed from either him, her mother, or her brothers now that her temper had been given time to cool down. As soon as he saw her finally begin to take deep, even breaths in and out without fail, he allowed his hand to slip away.

“Iksan vaoreznuni, ñuha dōna riña,” he said in their mother tongue to keep any of her handmaidens from overhearing the private conversation. I am sorry, my sweet girl. “Konīr iksis daorun kostan gaomagon.” There is nothing I can do. “Nyke gōntan daor jaelagon ziry hae sȳrī. Yn konir sagon se vyguēsin hen bisa ābrar. Issa jēda ao gūrēñagon skoros māzigon lēda aōha gaomilaksir hae dārilaros.” I know this is not what you want. I did not want it as well. But that is the nature of this life. It is time you learn what comes with your duty as heir.

She huffed a sigh at him in response, wishing to throw a fit and stomp her feet the way she once did as a spoiled young princess, but she didn’t. What frustrated her the most was the fact that he was right. Everyone else was right—her mother, her father, Viserys—and it killed her. It threatened to eat her alive.

Y/N lamented, “Dārilaros Aemond gaomas daor sesīr hae nyke. Emi daorun isse quptenka, kepa.” Prince Aemond does not even like me. We have nothing in common, father. “Nyke gīmigon nyke gōntan daor emagon iā iderennon, yn naejot gaomagon bisa mijegon nyke iksis nūmāzma.” I know I did not have a choice, but to do this without me is mean.

To this, Daemon chuckled.

“Aōha muña gīmigon ao sȳrī. Lo ēdas eptan ao nūmāzma ziry, ao would emagon geptot va Vermithor.” Your mother knows you well. If she had asked you about it, you would have left on Vermithor. “Iksā aōha kepa’s tala. Iksā iā zaldrīzes. Se mērī ñuhoso naejot gaomagon īles naejot ruaragon ziry hen ao.” You are your father’s daughter. You are a dragon. The only way to do it was to hide it from you.

The last part drew a soft giggle from her as well. It wasn’t as if he was wrong. Had she been briefed on the plan to betroth her to her uncle, she would have marched down to the Dragonpit and mounted Vermithor the first chance she got. No, Rhaenyra was right, this was the only way to ensure the plan’s success on both ends. Had anyone told Aemond, she suspects he would have talked to his mother and allowed her to find a way out of it. Perhaps a highborn woman from another house whose gained alliance would prove too good of an offer for the King to overlook.

Her father quieted for a second, then spoke again quite candidly. For he never thought to prepare his most cherished creation for the reality of her ever-looming duty as a wife until now. Selfishly, he thought he and Rhaenyra may keep her forever. He already lost ten years with her, so why wouldn’t he feel entitled to more? But, he realized, she was a woman grown. Soon, she would no longer be his or Rhaenyra’s, nor would she be Prince Aemond’s. She would be her own. The Seven Kingdoms would one day be hers for the taking.

“Riña Rhea Royce iksin daor se ābra nyke jeldan hae ñuha ēlī ābrazȳrys, yn nyke gōntan ñuha gaomilaksir.” Lady Rhea Royce was not the woman I wanted as my first wife, but I did my duty. “Se gaomā daor gīmigon skorkydoso olvie emā isse quptenka lēda zirȳla. Ra arlinnon istin iksā wed. Skori ao glaesagon hae valzȳrys se ābrazȳrys, ao mirre hēnkirī. Lēda biarves, kesā mazverdagon naejot hae aōha valzȳrys. Se, lo ziry ōdrikagon ao, ao gīmigon aōha kepa se muña would nekēbagon hen zȳhon tolie laes. Daor bona ao jorrāelagon īlva. Daor, nyke gīmigon ao se vermithor kessa gaomagon sepār sȳz mērī.” And you do not know how much you have in common with him. Things change once you are wed. When you live as husband and wife, you work together. With luck, you will grow to like your husband. And, if he hurts you, you know your father and mother would carve out his other eye. Not that you need us. No, I know you and Vermithor will do just fine alone.

The thought of things changing between her and Aemond felt impossible, but she decided to take his word for it. What else was she to do? After all, her father had three marriages so far, and she had none. If anyone were an expert in the matter, it would be him, not her.

Truth be told, Prince Aemond was not the worst option in the realm. It could’ve been Aegon, and thank the Gods it was not. For one, she did not find him as attractive as Aemond, and he could not wield a sword to save his own skin, so how could she expect him to protect her as his wife? She and Aemond could take down a group of men with their skill as sword fighters alone, standing back to back as a team. The same cannot be said for her other uncle. Not to mention, Aegon had a well-known reputation for forcing himself on the handmaidens who tended to him and his wife. Aemond, however, had never had such vile rumors spread about him. Outside of his obvious lust for revenge against her brothers, he was decent.

After her father departed, it was time to wash for the day and allow her handmaidens to aid her in preparing for supper. Rather than wearing the dress she sported in the Great Hall earlier that day, she opted for her best. If this was her first dinner with her soon-to-be husband and stepmother, she would do her best to make Rhaenyra proud in one of the dresses she had made for her.

Now, the confidence she built up in the secluded sanctuary of her private chambers has dwindled back down, but she doesn’t allow herself to linger outside of the dining room for any longer than a moment. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, then walks in.

Everyone else, save for King Viserys, is already present at the long table pushed toward the other side of the spacious room she enters. She forces her gaze to meet her parents’ eyes first, then her brothers, Queen Alicent, Helaena, Otto, Aegon, then, finally Aemond. He is positioned at the end of the table with an empty chair beside him that she can only assume is meant for her now that they are promised to one another. Mercifully, she is seated on the side closest to her dear Aunt Helaena, not Otto Hightower. Whether that was intentionally planned by her mother, father, grandsire, or new stepmother, she does not know. If she were to bet on it, it would be on the latter. Queen Alicent may have her issues with Y/N’s parents, but she is well aware of her fondness for Helaena.

Rhaenyra gives her an encouraging smile as she watches her cross the room, no doubt approving of her cheerful demeanor whether it’s feigned or not. When she turns to walk toward the side of the table Aemond sits at, she finds herself breathless yet again beneath the intensity of his stare. His eye moves up and down the length of her body in assessment. It lingers on the upper part of her body where the detailing of her blood-red dress becomes more intricate, then notices the statement necklace passed down to her from her mother that clings around her neck.

The neckline of the dress plunges down as far as she is allowed without compromising her modesty. When facing her dead-on from their seats at the table, it does not appear scandalous at all, but when Aemond stands from his seat to pull hers out as his mother instructed him to, the height advantage he has on her changes that.

She says in greeting, their gazes locked, “My Prince,” and sits down as soon as the words leave her.

And though she cannot see it, Aemond grips the back of her chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white at the sight of her. He can only see the side of her face at the moment, but she looks…beautiful. The same conflicted feeling that came over him in the training yard settles inside of his chest again as he sits down in the chair beside her.

The second they are both settled in their seats, though, the doors open again, and they all must stand to welcome King Viserys. It merely takes a moment for the guards assisting him to carry his chair around the side of the table and place him in between Alicent and Rhaenyra. His wife is quick to interlace her fingers with his and ask him how he’s feeling, to which he responds by saying he is fine despite the wheezing breaths he takes.

After Alicent says a quick prayer, he wastes no time in looking upon his family with a smile on his face.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luc, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena.” He then turns to look where Y/N and Aemond sit side by side, not looking or speaking to one another. “My son, Aemond, will marry my granddaughter, Y/N, further strengthening the bond within our house. A toast to the young princes and their betrothed.”

Everyone raises their cups.

“And,” Viserys continues, “to Prince Jacaerys, the future Lord of the Tides.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N watches Aegon’s face twist up into a smile that she can only assume means trouble. But, before her son can ruin the evening just as it is beginning, Alicent plasters a warm smile on her face and turns toward her son’s betrothed.

“Princess, may I ask that I help you design your wedding gown? I would love to aid you in your preparations for the ceremony, seeing that it is far too much for one woman to handle alone in a week.”

She nearly choked on the mouthful of wine she was in the midst of swallowing when Alicent began speaking. Even Aemond tenses slightly at the short timeframe between now, the day their betrothal was announced, and the wedding. It isn’t as if it doesn’t make sense to her. Viserys’ health declines daily at a horrifying rate, and the sooner they are wed, the sooner they create peace between their families.

He watches her closely, studying her as she nods and says, “Of course, my Queen. It would be an honor.”

The whole time, Aemond remains unnervingly silent. It isn’t unlike him at all, but for the situation at hand, she finds herself wishing he were the type to initiate conversation of some sort so she may begin to get to know him better. They were friends when they were children, sure, but much has changed in the years that have passed since they last saw one another at Driftmark, and they are not the children they once were.

“I must admit,” Viserys speaks from beside his wife, “It pleases me so to know that I will be able to witness my youngest child’s wedding. My only hope for you both is that you remain happy together, and that you may have a marriage as fulfilling as mine own.”

For the first time since she arrived, her betrothed speaks.

“I am happy to hear that I’ve pleased you, father.”

The night continues on with little issue from then on. Surprisingly, their mothers do not break into an argument from either side of King Viserys, and, save for a few comments from Aegon here or there that cause her brothers to stiffen with stifled anger, everyone gets along rather well. She and Aemond do not speak to each other as she hoped they would, but he is not cruel or perverted like his brother had it been him she was betrothed to.

In fact, when she looks across the table to see her mother and father talking and laughing with each other, to see her brothers talking with their soon-to-be wives, she cannot help but feel happy to be here. It was the last thing she expected to feel when she spoke to her parents earlier, but she welcomes it. Although it has Aegon scowling into his cup of wine, Jacaerys and Helaena dance together in front of the table with wide smiles, spinning around one another and jumping as though they’re still the children who used to play together.

For a brief moment, everything is perfect. Viserys is glad to see his family together in celebration of his grandchildren’s marriages, Rhaenyra and Alicent are being civil toward one another, and, she decides, Aemond isn’t too bad. Granted, he is hardly speaking to her or anyone else for most of the dinner, but that matters not to her. He’ll warm up to her eventually, she hopes.

Her hope is scattered to the wind the second she sees a servant set down the roast pig in front of Aemond’s place at the table. At first, all he does is turn his head slowly to look at where Lucerys sits further down the table. Her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the threat present in his body language and facial expression. Silently, she prays neither of them does anything to ruin the peace that has fallen over their family tonight, but when Lucerys begins to chuckle to himself at the memory of the time he, Jacaerys, and Aegon pranked him by gifting him a pig, all bets are off.

The table rattles from the hand Aemond slaps down against it, causing everyone sitting before it to either jolt in surprise or look up from their plates to watch him rising to stand.

Under her breath, Y/N murmurs, “Aemond…” but he pays her no heed.

His cup is clenched in one fist that raises to present it to the room.

“Final tribute,” he casts a quick glance at her. “To my betrothed.” He then sets his sights on her younger brother and glares at him with every bit of ire he’s kept trapped beneath the surface since they last saw each other. “And her brothers. Jace. Luc. Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” There’s a heavy pause. Tension floods the room in the time he takes to consider his words, his eye refusing to stray from where her brother is sitting at the end of the table. “Strong.”

“Aemond,” his mother is quick to say.

Without thinking, Y/N reverts to the child she was when she, her cousins, and her brothers fought him over his claiming of Vhagar and reaches to pinch him on the leg in warning. It’s hidden beneath the surface of the table where their parents cannot catch notice of it, so when she does it, he is the only one who reacts. Even then, it isn’t much of a reaction. All he does is clench his jaw in annoyance. As though she’s a fly buzzing around his face that he wishes to swat away.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys—“

Jacaerys marches forward a step and says, his voice unwavering in its command, “I dare you to say that again.”

From where she sits, she can see the corner of Aemond’s mouth twitch with the urge to smirk. That bait has been taken.

“Why? T’was only a compliment.” At this, her brother begins to walk across the room to him, and her Prince takes that as his chance to turn to him. “Do you not think yourself strong?”

The sound of her brother’s fist meeting his face is soft, only heard by her and Otto as they are the closest over everyone else’s sounds of shock. Aemond takes the hit without wobbling where he stands, not even a little, and he turns back to see Jacaerys with a feral grin on his face. All it takes is a shove against his chest and her brother is sent tumbling into his back on the floor. Her mother shouts his name in disappointment at his violence, but neither of them listens.

Chaos has broken out amongst the family for the second time today, and Y/N doesn’t know what to do other than reach out to grab onto his arm.

“Do not touch him,” she hisses, looking up at Aemond from beneath her furrowed brows.

A muscle in his jaw jumps with him clenching it tightly in restraint, looking down not at her but at the bare hand wrapped around his. She holds onto him as though he is her lifeline, and he cannot help but look back over his shoulder at her brother as he breaks free from the guards restraining him to attack again. On instinct, Aemond rips his hand from her forceful grip with little struggle and moves forward to meet him halfway, damning whatever consequences it may have with her.

Just when the two men are about to reach one another with the promise of violence visible on their faces, they are stopped.

Daemon walks between them and forces his stepson to retreat back to where the guards are standing in a row behind him. All it takes is him holding up a hand, telling everyone else to back off, before he spins back around to face Aemond. His hand rests on the hilt of Dark Sister as a silent threat in time with the heavy sigh that sinks his shoulders.

Her father looks at him the way he used to look at her when she would talk back to him as a child. It must infuriate Aemond to be looked at like a petulant child in need of scolding, but he does not say anything. He simply walks off in the direction of the doors.

Y/N pushes her chair out behind her without a care for how Rhaenyra and Alicent call after her to stay, storming out after Aemond with no small amount of anger swirling within her.

The doors open and slam shut behind her as she rushes to catch up with him halfway down the long hallway with a few servants walking in either direction. His hair swishes from side to side with every harsh step, and she longs for nothing more than to wrap it around her fist and yank on it to gain his attention for what he said to her brothers tonight.

She raises her voice at him, “Keligon!” Stop.

Instead of listening, he continues to walk away from her, and she cannot stop herself from grabbing him by the arm to turn him around to face her. Their difference in strength prevents her from moving him, but she does manage to halt him, and that is not an opportunity she ignores.

“Ēdā daor paktot naejot gaomagon bona! Lucerys iksis iā ābrītsos valītsos, iksā vala. Gaomagon daor iderēbagon va zirȳla syt ra kostas daor dohaeragon!” You had no right to do that! Lucerys is a young boy, you are a man. Do not pick on him for things he cannot help!

Aemond whirls around, invading her space with a hand grasping onto her wrist to yank her hand from his forearm. There’s a crazed look in his eye, and he does not care that the servants at the end of the hall are watching despite not being able to understand their language anyway. Let them talk.

“Ēdan daor paktot? Mazēdas ñuha laes! Lo kostan glaesagon mijegon ñuha laes, kostas gryves issare brōztagon iā nādrēsy!” I had no right? He took my eye! If I can live without my eye, he can bear being called a bastard.

Her face scrunches with rage, brows furrowing, and she plants her free hand on his chest to shove him back only to be seized with both of his hands on her shoulders.

“Vestā aōla bona iā laes iksis iā litse odre syt iā zaldrīzes. Lo ao konir sagon drēje, skoro syt ēdruta ao ōregon bisa toliot zȳhon bartos? kesan aderī sagon aōha ābrazȳrys. Aōha ābrazȳrys! Istia daor ōdrikagon ñuha lēkia.” You said yourself that an eye is a fair price for a dragon. If that is true, why must you hold this over his head? I will soon be your wife. Your wife! You must not harm my brother.

The sparks between them flare up into a wildfire incapable of being contained. Two dragons face off in a fight neither of them will back down from, readying themselves to cause one another harm at a second’s notice. She can feel the heat of his rapid exhales puffing against her face as they are locked in an intense stare, and his hands squeeze her shoulders hard enough to leave bruises behind on her delicate skin.

Aemond says, “Lo iksā naejot sagon ñuha ābrazȳrys, skoro syt ēdruta ao mīsagon lī qilōni ōdrikagon nyke? Lo daor syt Lucerys, aōha valzȳrys would daor jurnegon bisa ñuhoso.” If you are to be my wife, why must you defend those who hurt me? If not for Lucerys, your husband would not look this way.

“Nyke hae se ñuhoso ao jurnegon! laes iā daor, iksā iā gevie vala! Kostilus bisa kostagon emagon issare vestās ondoso sir lo ao jenitis naejot ȳdragon naejot nyke tubī!” I like the way you look! Eye or no, you are a beautiful man. Perhaps this may have been said by now if you bothered to speak to me today. “Nyke shifang bona ziry pryjatan ao, yn ao brōztagon zirȳ nādrēsy ēlī.” I understand that he struck you, but you called them bastards first.

“Issi nādrēsy!” They are bastards!

She rips herself out of his clutches and reaches up to grab him by the chin, forcing him to meet her gaze and listen to what she says next.

“Ñuha muña se kepa sia daor wed skori īlen vēttan, se kesīr iksan. Aōha ābrazȳrys. Gaomas bona jenigon ao? Kessa bisa gaomagon ao hen issare lēda nyke? Kessa ziry jenigon ao naejot qogralbar aōha nādrēsy ābrazȳrys?” My mother and father were not wed when I was made, and here I am. Your wife. Does that bother you? Will this keep you from being with me? Will it bother you to fuck your bastard wife?

This seems to stop him for an instant. It causes his eye to turn wide and his nostrils to flare with the strange mixture of anger and attraction he feels for her at this moment, and he is too stuck on what she said to care or notice that she is still holding his chin. Although he loathes her brothers, he cannot deny the effect she has on him. Every potential match his mother has introduced to him has been a simpering, bashful high-born lady who assumes that their skill in needlepoint or singing will woo him. None of them presented him with a challenge. They all gave way under the slightest bit of pressure, but she doesn’t. She never has.

The sweet scent of the bathing oil she used while soaking in the tub in her chambers clings to her half-up, half-down braided updo. It takes everything he has to not reach up to run it through his fingers. He isn’t sure why the urge comes to mind, but as soon as he notices the citrus scent, he has to pull his chin out of her hand and put a distance between them to keep himself at bay.

He shakes his head at her.

“Emā iā vaogenka relgos syt iā riña.” You have a dirty mouth for a lady.

She counters back without missing a beat, “Iksā olvie nūmāzma syt iā dārilaros.” You are quite mean for a prince.

Aemond steps back again, allowing his eye to roam up and down her figure in a lingering, selfish stare. The neckline of her dress allows him a generous glimpse at her breasts, pressed up against the fabric in a way that begs him to tear it off of her. What she failed to realize when he ignored her throughout their family dinner was that he could not say the things he wished to in the presence of her parents and brothers.

All he offers in response is a, “Hmm,” and turns on his heels to walk off down the hallway without her.

For the next three days, she does not see Prince Aemond, but it isn’t his fault. If anything, it is hers.

She refused to leave her chambers for the entire first day following their betrothal. The events of the day prior had been chaotic enough to provide her excitement for the week, so she resigned herself to a day of solitude her mother allowed due to the whirlwind of drama from their family dinner. If not for her marriage to Aemond being planned, her family likely would have left to return to Dragonstone after the fight broke out between her brothers and her betrothed, but Rhaenyra was quick to reassure her that they were not going anywhere.

The comfort of her mother’s warm hand stroking her back as she hugged her to her chest, pressing the swell of her pregnant belly into her abdomen, soothed the nerves that plagued her in anticipation of the wedding.

“Your betrothal does not mean we are abandoning you, my love. I promise to stay here by your side until you become accustomed to living in King's Landing again.”

They talked and spent time together that first day, just the two of them, until the sun faded below the edge of the horizon. The topic of conversation varied between gossiping about what happened at the family dinner and Rhaenyra answering her myriad of questions about marriage. No one sent for them or dared to disrupt the sanctuary created within the walls of her room. It wasn’t until her brothers and Daemon came knocking that they were forced to come back to reality.

The second day, she read two modestly-sized books, walked to her brother Jacaerys’ chambers to pass the time with a quick conversation, and wasted at least thirty minutes soaking in the tub until the water went cold. Other than that, there wasn’t much she could do to quell her boredom without leaving her rooms.

On the third day, her father forced her out of bed and dragged her down to the Dragonpit, insisting that a ride on Vermithor would lift her spirits. And it did. She thanked Daemon the minute she landed back in the dragon pit where he waited for her, stranded without his beloved Caraxes there for him to fly. All he did was throw an arm around her shoulder and tell her they would practice in the training yard next. This set her on edge at first, wondering if she would run into Aemond for the first time since he left her in the hallway, but he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he too was sulking and isolating himself in his chambers.

Today, she finally tired of hiding herself away with nothing to occupy her and made her way to the Godswood with her favorite book from the library tucked under her arm.

Y/N sits beneath the Weirwood tree, back pressed up against the thick trunk and book flipped open to rest on her thighs. It has been at least an hour since she arrived if the position of the sun in the sky changing where the shadows of the leaves fall has anything to say for it, and she has yet to look up from her story. The warm breeze blows at her face to keep her from feeling too warm in the arid summer. It has not rained in a moon, and every blade of grass beneath her as she walked up to her favorite tree was brittle from nature’s neglect.

Distantly, she hears the soft footfalls of someone crossing the same brittle grass she had to reach the tree, but she doesn’t lift her gaze from the book to greet them. It is most Queen Alicent’s most trusted lady in waiting coming to fetch her for wedding preparations. Either that or it’s Lucerys coming back to bug her as he had earlier because he was bored.

The last thing she expected was to hear Aemond’s voice.

All he says is, “Hello, niece.”

When she lifts her eyes from the pages of her book to see him, the sun halos him from behind, turning the edges of his silver hair warm from its marigold rays, and before she can stop herself, a slight smile finds its way to her lips. She hadn’t been lying the other night when they argued in the hallway. She does find him handsome, and there are fond memories from her childhood with him far different from those which he shares with her brothers. There was never any cruelty between them. He enjoyed that she was learning to wield a sword and often asked her to practice with him before the drama of their family pulled them apart.

Before she can get a word in, he’s extending his arm to present a small, green velvet box to her. By the looks of it alone, she deduces that it is jewelry of some sort, but she won’t know what exactly it is until she opens it.

“What’s this for?” she asks and takes the box into her possession.

It sits, cradled in her lap on top of the book, until she pushes the lid open. A necklace. Gold with modest rubies set along the chain until a slightly larger one, set in the mouth of a roaring dragon, hangs from the center of it. In truth, it is stunning. She has never owned nor seen a piece of jewelry like it in her mother’s collection, and it’s hard to refrain from asking him to put it on her straight away.

“My mother told me I must court you,” he says, voice even and comically unexpressive. “I’d like to see you wear it for our wedding ceremony.” Then, having heard of her desire for a traditional Valyrian ceremony through Queen Alicent, he clarifies, “The public one.”

She looks up at him again.

“This is what you call courting, my Prince?”

Of course, the gift is better than what any other potential suitor could have given her, but, for the sake of torturing him, she couldn’t resist the urge to say it. Marrying a man who cannot be bothered to spend time with her or engage in conversation with her is not in her plans. If she is to become his wife, he’ll need to work for it, and as pretty as the necklace may be, she’d prefer actually getting to know him over a gift.

Aemond tilts his head to the side as though in curiosity.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. What else would you like me to do, Princess?”

Without further ado, the velvet jewelry box is shut and placed on the ground to the left side of her. The book remains flipped open on her lap to the page she was last reading from, and she glanced up and down between it and him.

“Well, you could ask me what I’m reading first,” she suggests. “I know we were friends as children, but it has been many years since then. All I’m asking is to know my husband before we’re wed. To do so, we would have to actually talk to one another for a change.”

There’s a stretch of silence following this.

All she hears is the breeze ruffling through the leaves of the treetop above and the sound of distant conversation between servants as they stare at each other. He narrows his eye at her, then smiles to himself and closes the distance between them with two long strides. The thick roots of the tree serve as seats for them to lounge upon, and he takes the one emerging from the ground right beside her as his seat of choice. It looks a little funny from her perspective to see him awkwardly perched on the room of the great tree with his arms braced on his knees and his focus solely set on her.

“What are you reading?” Aemond then asks.

She closes the large book with a soft “thump” sound and leans back against the trunk with her head tilted back just so to allow her to look up at him.

“I found it the last time I was here. In the library. Septa Marlow ripped it from my hands before I could read a single word, so, of course, I snuck back in later to see what all the fuss was for.” He fights the urge to smile at that. Her fingers, decorated in rings passed down to her from her mother, curl around the edges of the book and raise it to present it to Aemond as though it is a prize as sought after as the Iron Throne. “A Caution for Young Girls. The story of Lady Coryanne Wylde. After discovering its contents, I soon understood why the septa tried to keep it from me. It was far too scandalous for a young maiden such as myself to read.”

A scoff comes from the Prince as he takes it into his possession and flips it over in his hands to inspect it.

“I have only ever heard of it. I prefer history and philosophy.”

She perks up at the opportunity to gush about her favorite book to someone.

“It’s about her erotic adventures before becoming a septa in Oldtown later in her life. It’s quite entertaining. I rather enjoy reading books separate from my studies. It’s like entering a different world or living a different life.”

Under his breath, she can hear him mutter, “Erotic adventures,” incredulously to himself as though it is the most ridiculous topic for a book he has ever heard, and it earns a snorting laugh from her.

“What? Your brother can frequent brothels on the Street of Silk as much as he’d like yet I cannot read about it in place of having the freedoms only given to men in this world?”

The wind blows strands of his hair out of place enough for her to reach up and tuck it back where it belongs without thinking. Her sudden movement almost caused him to jerk away in blind anticipation of having to react physically before he forces himself to remain still. After a second, his body begins to relax at the feeling of his fingers running through his hair and pushing it back into place where it previously laid. When her hand comes back to rest in her lap, he manages to find his voice.

“You will not have to read about it for much longer, though, will you?”

Suddenly, the eye contact they maintain becomes unbearable for the both of them. Y/N stops herself from shifting in place in discomfort due to the strange feeling between her thighs at the implication of his words, and Aemond cannot ignore the thrill it gives him to see the effect he has on her.

Perhaps this marriage will be easier than she previously thought.

Let me know your thoughts! Part Two with the wedding, smut, and drama will be written shortly.

Taglist: @mvrylee

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #fanfiction

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galene-gothic · 7 months

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𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

So, they'll be a workaholic. As independent as they'll be, they'll also be alone and kind of isolated. They'll be really guarded to date romantically which will naturally lead to them being commitment phobic. They won't be the most spiritual person, they'll be someone who'll be more grounded in reality at that time (not really to be honest, they'll be ungrounded and disconnected but will be trying to be realistic and logical). They'll be burying away their feelings and past traumas but after meeting you, they'll start gaining clarity on their fears. You'll cause them to be really confused because of their feelings for you. They won't express any of this to you at that time but they'll rationalise everything internally and feel a sense of gratitude is what I'm getting. You'll make them feel consumed, it's like when the both of you will be together, they'll feel a high but there's still some anxiety there. I feel like there'll be a lot of things left unsaid, some missed communication between the both of you and you might go through a temporary separation. About why they'll fall in love with you, there are many reasons but the main one is just how they'll feel towards you.

They'll feel like they were really mean to you and the way they'll feel towards you will just be out of control. They'll feel like even the way they acted towards you was not very controlled. This is funny, they'll fall in love with you but will be mean to you before the seperation occurs, however, you're not going to be innocent either. Your intentions seem to be innocent but because of how they'll make you feel and because of how they seem commitment phobic (they might make it clear to you that they do not have space for you in their life to be honest 😭). You'll also be cold towards them, at some point, you'll tell them something like you don't really care about what's going on in their life or something (it won't sound as mean but it'll definitely be saddening). You'll be in a very unstable place before the seperation occurs but you'll still have high expectations and standards (probably because lowering your standards earlier got you nowhere). The both of you seem to be really different from each other, maybe even opposites but there'll be something that just attracts you to each other, you'll be equally as repulsed by each other though. There's something about feelings growing very fast here, the connection has such a slow yet fast energy.

When you'll first meet them, you'll seem hyperactive in certain ways but will still have a body language and facial expressions that hint lack of energy. You might meet in an environment where you'll have to take up certain responsibilities but you'll seem too naive and playful to get things done 💀. There'll be times when you'll have small temper tantrums. There'll be some petty arguments, playful banters and drama (to be honest, it seems to be a major theme in your dynamic). There's something about you being really emotional and kind of lacking maturity. You'll teach them a lot of life lessons. After your separation ends, you'll show up as someone with a lot of integrity. I just heard "there's something called 'cause and effect'". You're going to show up as someone pretty honest too, especially with what you want in life and think that you deserve. You'll be on the right path when you'll meet them after the separation. There'll be something about you though, before your seperation they might have thought that you'd probably wait for them because they seem to have come across as a respectful person but that image will just shatter after they meet you again.

I wouldn't be surprised if you're mean to them though. You'll very much be in a 'should I stay or should I go?' energy before or after you'll meet again. You're going to be more focused on the long term so you might choose to let go of them. They'll kind of realise their feelings before your seperation occurs and after the realisation , they'll actually be in a deep reflection period. They'll come off as someone very mysterious and secretive to you. I feel like they'll just hold it close to their chest and might choose working on other things instead. They will give in to their pride and withdraw. They'll just give up, this makes me so emotional to be honest. It'll be difficult for them to control themself because their emotions will feel so raw so they'll feel like they need to get their control back by giving up instead. After you meet again after the seperation, they'll choose to be decisive. I feel like the both of you will look to the past and think about how far you've come. There'll be a sense of nostalgia that'll hit them as soon as they'll see you. I'm also getting that you'll have changed a lot, your core aspects will still be the same though. They'll choose to free themself and trust how things turn out. 'We don't talk anymore' by Selena Gomez and Charlie Puth is coming through here.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

They'll fall in love with you because they'll learn something new through and from you. If they're an introverted person (like low-key anti-social), they could still enjoy being outdoors or around people if it's with you. People don't choose to be loyal, they either feel it or they don't and they will feel loyalty towards you. There's something about them seeing your potential and also helping them see their own potential. You'll make them feel really happy. There's something about wisdom coming through. This seems to be the classic case of 'real recognises real'. You'll feel safe around each other. 4th house and 5th house synastry seems to be significant here (could be composite too though). You will probably be mirroring each other a lot. You'll both meet each other after a very painful ending will have occurred in your lives. There's something about things just slipping through the fingers. A lot of things left unsaid, fear coming in, pushing each other away, etc. They'll fall in love with you because they'll see you as someone who's diligent and determined. They'll fall in love with you because you'll be self sufficient and independent, you'll also help them become the same way.

You'll feel like the calm after the storm to them, however, due to them not being used to the calmness, they will restrict their true feelings and character to a certain extent. They'll end up acting out of character and will be angry at you 💀. Their energy will be scattered and they'll act sort of arrogant. They'll show you unlimited potential though :(. You'll help them feel really confident so they'll naturally act confident too. There'll be times when they'll act really carefree and fun. The love between the both of you holds a certain innocence to it. They will be commitment phobic and end up expressing it in one way or another though. They'll make you feel special and you'll have a lot of fun together but they will give themself away by saying somethings that will make you feel like they aren't serious about you or you don't mean as much to them. Much like the first pile, there seems to be a separation here too. They'll be so different from most people that you'll have met but they'll not seem to be in the energy for anything serious with you which will definitely be hurtful. When they'll realise that what they feel towards you is actually love, they'll jump in and out.

The romance between the both of you (the first time) will be ungrounded and fast paced but also short lived. Even though the relationship doesn't seem to progress, spiritually the both of you will get so intimate because you'll affect each other really deeply. They will use their energy in wrong ways and will be restricting everything. They'll act really hasty, supposing they are ignoring you, it'll be in a haste. They'll end up acting like a heartbreaker and will leave you confused. They'll act really moody so you won't know how to act with them or where you stand with them. At the end, you'll feel like maybe you didn't mean as much to them as you thought you did. This is so sad, oh my god. You'll feel like they didn't care enough about you. They'll just act very selfish, I won't lie. They'll be non-committal and things will be messed up between the both of you. I don't know what will happen but the both of you will meet again, maybe they'll reach out to you. I'm certainly getting some sort of communication here. You'll both be grateful to each other and you in particular will have developed down to earth character. When they'll reach out, you'll not be the most receptive.

You'll probably have an argument or a discussion that's leaning towards you not being open to their offer. You'll tell them something like "things have ended already" or "it's better if we end things here". You'll even say something like "we're incompatible, it's not going to work". You'll have developed a strong identity by that point and will choose to come forward with self integrity. You'll be really forward with them and will try to talk to them in a mature manner. They will choose to come in slower, the energy that I'm getting is that they'll be feeling quite scattered too because you'll make it pretty clear that you don't want anything to do with them. They'll choose to give you time while still having times when they just feel torn and cold. They'll really want control over the situation again. They'll start expressing love to you through their actions rather than their words and will suggest that even if you're not lovers, you should remain as friends. They'll be generous and genuine. They'll just have good intentions for the both of you. They'll express gratitude to you very often. Due to the gratitude, it might be a bit difficult for them to let you go? Eventually, you'll give in and choose to trust them.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

I love this because the last two piles felt draining 😭. They'll be in a calm and emotionally healthy energy when you'll meet them. They'll be caring and tolerant at that time. They'll be emotionally mature and let's just say that they'll be a good person. They'll be considerate of others but still difficult to sway morally. They'll be rising above their problems and will have learned a lot from their past. They'll be positive as they'll know that they've gotten over the worst already. They'll either have developed or will be developing good communication skills. They'll be in a place where they'll want to be honest and communicative. They'll have gained a lot of clarity on a lot of different things and will be having realisations that will be leading to breakthroughs. They'll be pretty mentally stable and will be resilient, even if their life isn't going particularly good, it'll not be going extremely bad especially because of their mindset. They'll be feeling like they can battle anything that life throws at them, they'll be feeling proud of themself too. They'll have a vision for themself and their future. Their imagination will be running wild but in the best way possible. They'll fall in love with you because of how much potential the you seem to have. They'll see your potential and I feel like you'll have a lot of unused potential?

You'll somehow still be very confident though and will be self focused. You seem like the type to be like "wow, I'm so pretty, I must've saved a country in my past life to be born with a face like this" while looking at the mirror, eyes full of admiration for your own beauty. You'll have arguments but somehow it'll lead to revelations and you'll balance each other out despite how different or incompatible you are. You'll let them take the dominant role and they'll feel like they can assert themself with you. You'll hype them up and make them feel like you're proud of them. You'll make them feel like you see them for who they are and see their integrity? They'll feel like they're in the spotlight for you and you see them. They'll feel possessive over you and will want to have you. They'll feel such a tenderness towards you, they'll feel like they just want to keep you in their life. They'll feel protective of you and just adore you so much. You'll also help them feel more confident, they'll not be able to get enough of you, they'll just want more. After realising their feelings, they'll choose to trust you. They'll be more alert, pay attention to you and interact more with you. They'll listen to the things that you say and remember them so that they can make you feel special and touched. This is wholesome. They'll try to be more seen by you, they'll want you to take them seriously.

They'll try to talk to you about things and teach you a lot. They'll also try to get relationship advice from those they really trust. They'll try to create a valuable connection with you. You'll prove to be really helpful to them, you'll help them focus more on their work, they'll just feel really motivated to do better because of you. Even if it's just slow and small improvements, they'll implement those in their own life and also in the relationship between the both of you. Just being around you is going to feel so healing to them. They'll start being even more kind to themself and understand their past mistakes. They'll forgive and accept themself and the way things turned out to be. They'll actually choose to come forth to you with a strategy that is actually logical. They'll still be hopeful though. You'll either ignore the signs that they throw in here and there or you'll just be oblivious to them. Even you'll be working on some stuff within yourself so well you'll be critical of yourself and just everything. You might have been kinda guarded to them because of your own issues but you'll finally choose to be open to communicating with them. At first you'll withdraw from them to sort out your feelings but will make a firm decision after that. You'll let go of your fears to be with them because you'll love them. After you choose them, you'll also find new purposes in life. This is truly beautiful. The direction will be chosen and set for the both of you. I'm happy for you, take care.

#intuitive readings #pick a card #pick a deck #pac reading #pac #astro notes #astrology #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a gif #astrovations #astro observations

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anthurak · 6 months

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Something I’ve been thinking about when listening to ‘Crooked’ is how Ozzie seems to really relate to Fizz with lines like ‘I think you’re messy but I’m messy too’ and singing about his own ‘crooked heart’ and how he finds Fizz’s imperfections beautiful.

And I think this could get really interesting if Asmodeus and the rest of the Sins are fallen angels just like Lucifer. I mean imagine what Ozzie’s sense of self-image is like if he was an angel who left or was expelled from Heaven and took on this new form in Hell?

Like we’ve always wondered why the Sins look the way they do, particularly in contrast to the demons they seem to rule over. Asmodeus rules over the succubi and incubi yet is this multi-headed fire-rooster, Beelzebub rules over the hellhounds yet is some mashup of a fox/canine and a bee, and now Mammon rules over the shark-demons yet is some weird spider/pine-tree thing.

What if the reason they all look like this is the RESULT of them being Fallen Angels? Specifically, the result of their expulsion from Heaven? What if this is the whole reason for them being ‘embodiments of sin’ in the first place? What if it was all originally intended as a PUNISHIMENT by Heaven for whatever transgressions they may have committed? Something meant to ‘curse’ them when they fell.

In which case, I think it’s all too easy to imagine why Ozzie empathizes, relates and connects so much with Fizzerolli and his struggles. Because Fizz is going through a struggle likely all too similar to one that Ozzie may have gone through, what ALL of the Sins likely went through after their fall. Expelled from their home, having their bodies massively changed and told it was BAD. And I think Crooked shows how Ozzie coped with it: By embracing what he had become and finding the beauty in it, something that he now uses to help Fizzerolli, showing that there is no shame in all their crooked, messy imperfections, and that there is even beauty in them.

And I imagine that ALL of the Sins did more or less the same: They embraced and OWNED this ‘curse’ Heaven sought to ‘punish’ them with. Embraced these ‘sins’ they are supposed to embody and made them their own. It’s why Ozzie and Bee are able to express this very positive interpretation of Lust and Gluttony respectively. As a way of making a new life for themselves and also probably a big ‘fuck-you’ to Heaven.

Now that’s not to say that ALL of the Sins were able to do this in a positive manner, Mammon being a clear example. I imagine that as we are introduced to the rest of the Sins, we’re going to see more of a range of positive and negative ways they’ve chosen to express the ‘sin’ they embody. Like even Asmodeus has been shown to have had his hang-ups on Lust and Love being exclusive, leading to him keeping his true relationship with Fizzerolli secret.

Though it’s clear over the last couple episodes that Ozzie isn’t worried about that anymore.

And I think that in particular is REALLY interesting, because it implies that the Sins aren’t actually bound to a particular way of indulging. Rather, the way they express their ‘sin’ is not by compulsion but by CHOICE. Which I think puts all of the Sins’ actions in a pretty interesting light.

Like it means that Mammon being this petty, skeevy, manipulative asshole isn’t some grand, nebulous ‘Embodiment of Greed’ thing, but rather simply a Mammon thing. The product of his own personal issues and hang-ups. Which also weirdly enough implies that there’s hope for Mammon. The possibility that he doesn’t HAVE to be this way. Admittedly it would almost certainly take a (pardon the pun) HELLUVA family intervention to have a hope of making that happen, but you never know. It would certainly be in keeping with the themes of the show.

All in all, I’m finding more and more the possible backgrounds of the Seven Sins to be VERY compelling. Not just for ‘The Lore’ reasons, but because it further develops the Sins as characters. It takes these monstrously powerful and ancient beings and shows them to be far more grounded and, for lack of a better word, human than we might give them credit for.

#helluva boss #helluva boss analysis #helluva boss theory #asmodeus #helluva asmodeus #queen beelzebub #helluva beelzebub #mammon #helluva mammon #helluva seven sins #helluva boss lore #i feel like the fandom is really sleeping on the possibility of the other sins also being fallen angels like lucifer

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avocad1s · 1 year

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Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Summary: It’s been five hundred years since the people of Teyvat celebrated the return of their Creator. Oh what a joyous day that was! However there was something off with the Divine One, had they always acted like this? Not only that, being in their presence didn’t bring the same warmth it did all those centuries ago, but to go against their creator is the highest form of treason they could commit. So when another shows up sharing the exact face as the one on the throne, many are conflicted on who to follow.

Characters Featured: Multiple Characters Mentioned

Note: Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You’ve been warned.

Part one (You are here!) Part Two

This is not beta read. So I apologize for any mistakes.

For the first time in decades, six of the archons stood in the same room.

It was an odd occurrence, most of them preferred to stay in their respective nations, the only time they would all meet up like this is if something dire was occurring.

One of these occasions was when the Divine One descended down to Teyvat, it was a day to remember for everyone. Celebrations went on for weeks, many hoping that the Creator would acknowledge them with a vision, mora, or even a simple glance. However, blinded by their own excitement, the people of Teyvat didn’t notice how… off the Creator was. Well, besides the ones who are considered to be the closest to them.

…

“We’ve all noticed that Their Grace has been acting a bit different ever since they returned,”

“Well they have been away for a while, maybe they need time to adjust?”

“That can’t be it, they’ve already been here for centuries. They would’ve adjusted by now.”

“Even though I never met them personally before they returned, anytime they are in Sumeru they are nothing like the scriptures say.”

“Maybe the Divine One is acting off due to what happened to…”

The room falls silent.

“Was there any response from the Cryo archon?”

“No she had locked down her nation years ago, nothing goes in and nothing comes out. Except for the Fatui… Mor- Zhongli, do you think that she knew something before the rest of us?”

“It is possible, but we cannot say for certain. Yet, we cannot act without knowing the truth.”

“I agree, acting with only suspicion rather than proof would be foolish.”

“So what do we do?”

“For now we do nothing, eventually something will come to light.”

Present Day

The heat in the desert of Sumeru was unforgiving, you could get caught in a sandstorm or if you do not bring enough supplies that could also be the end for you. So it was only natural that when the Traveler and her floating companion noticed someone passed out in the sand, they would rush over to help.

“Hey Traveler…” Paimon begins, “look at their clothes, it’s not like anything we’ve seen before.”

The girl looks down at the unconscious person. Paimon was right, they weren’t wearing any type of clothing that indicated that they were from any nation in Teyvat.

Not to mention the sudden comforting feeling the girl had gotten once she had approached them. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her and her brother were still traveling worlds together.

“Let’s wake them up.”

It took more shakes and taps than the Traveler was expecting but soon their eyes open and they sit up slowly, sand falling off of their body with every movement.

“Are you okay?” The Traveler asks.

They let out a soft groan turning to look at the girl and her companion.

“Where am I?” Were the first words to leave their mouth.

“Sumeru’s desert!” Paimon says, “erm, do you not remember how you got here? Traveler, maybe we should bring this person to Tighnari, they seem to be a bit disoriented.”

Without realizing it, the Traveler ignores Paimon keeping all of her attention on the mysterious person still sitting in the warm sand. She holds her hand out, “here let me help you up.” They take the Travelers hand standing up on their feet, dusting the leftover sand off their clothing.

The Traveler continues to keep their gaze locked on them while they dust off their clothing. Noticing her friends odd behavior, Paimon clears her throat and begins talking.

“Well this is Lumine, but everyone just calls her the Traveler. Paimon is Paimon.” The fairy gestures to her friend then to herself. “What’s your name?”

They hesitate for a moment before saying their name, “thank you Paimon and Lumine for waking me, there’s no telling what could’ve happened if you didn’t.”

Lumine feels a warmth bloom in her chest at their kind words.

“It’s not problem, the Traveler is always happy to help!” Paimon says happily, “but Paimon has to ask, why are you unconscious in the desert anyway?”

“I don’t… I can’t remember. The last thing I remember seeing was a blinding light.”

Paimon and Lumine exchange glances.

“Well if you want, you can tag along with us to Sumeru city, we have some really smart friends who may be able to help you there.” Lumine offers.

They smile, “thanks but I don’t want to intrude on your journey.”

“Oh you’re not intruding! The Traveler and Paimon we’re already heading to the city to meet the Creator!”

Lumine shoots the fairy a dirty look causing her to shrink back apologizing while also whispering something about how she wasn’t supposed to say that.

However they had already perked up at the mention of the Divine. “The Creator?”

Lumine lets out a defeated breath, “we weren’t supposed to say anything…” she glances at her companion, “but the Creator has finally granted me an audience.”

“Yeah the Travelers been asking for ages to meet them but the creator has always refused until she helped the Dendro Archon.”

Paimon gets another, less noticeable glare thrown her way.

“I see…” They began, “you must be something pretty special to meet someone like them.”

There was a small silence.

“Well we should probably get a move on, we shouldn’t keep someone this important waiting!”

———

The walk back to Sumeru City was awkward to say the least. It seems that ever since the Creator was brought up in the conversation, Lumine and Paimons new friends seemed to be more closed off than before. Maybe they were apart of the few that didn’t blindly worship the Creator? Or maybe they’re using this tactic to hold back their jealousy? Lumine wasn’t sure but she’d rather not know.

Soon enough the city was visible from where they were standing, it would only be another twenty minute hike until they reached the entrance.

“I hope that walk wasn’t too bad for you considering your condit-“

Lumine pauses mid-sentence, they were gone? Just a minute ago they were behind them and now they were nowhere to be seen.

“Paimon didn’t even hear them wander off, I hope they’re okay…” The fairy says worriedly. Lumine nods but continues forward, if they had left on their own then it was clear they could handle themselves. The Traveler just hopes that nothing bad happens to them and she hopes to see them again.

You didn’t feel bad ditching the two girls.

After all that wasn’t the worse thing you did to them today.

You lied to them multiple times, maybe the only true thing you told the two was your name, but it didn’t matter.

As soon as you laid eyes on the girl, you knew she wasn’t from this world. Maybe that’s why you didn’t feel that bad lying to her? Or maybe you’re just lying to yourself.

Truthfully, you only followed them after they had brought up the Creator.

Ah yes, the “Creator”

The was the main reason why you returned after all this time in the first place.

You were aware that they had crowned another as the Creator when it first happened five hundred years ago, and you would’ve returned then and extinguished them, but you were still mourning the loss of one of your nations. Then it simply slipped your mind. Until now, when Teyvat has cried out to you once more.

You can’t keep neglecting your creation, especially since you care about it deeply.

Now of course you could’ve just bursted in the room that the usurper was in and defeated them right then and there but you wanted more information.

How did they pass off as you so easily? More importantly, how did anyone believe it?

Sure there’s a chance they may look like you but there’s no way they could replicate your power or your connection to the world itself.

You huff hiding behind a tree watching the two girls look around for you before eventually giving up heading towards the city.

This was going to take more effort than you thought.

The first thing Lumine noticed when she entered the dark room was the sheer coldness. She couldn’t see them at the top of the stairs but the presence of being in the room with them was already overwhelming.

She was in the room with the Creator.

Despite all the questions she had, her throat felt dry, like she couldn’t talk or rather, she didn’t have permission yet.

The girl kneels before them locking her gaze on the ground, she was slightly disappointed that she wasn’t the only one in the room. There were many Sages in the room and even Nahida was off to the side giving her a welcome smile.

“Traveler…” a voice brakes through the silence causing Lumine to tense, “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

“I’m honored to be before you,” she stutters. Why did she feel like this? She met four Gods already, but why did she feel so tense around them? Like she had to watch her words carefully or something bad may happen.

“Please come here,” their voice calls out.

Lumine stands up shakily walking slowly towards the stairs, she keeps her gaze lowered as she walks up slowly. Soon enough she was right in front of the Creator. The girl goes to kneel once more but she stops when another order comes instead.

“Will you look at me?”

A audible gasp leaves the Travelers mouth as she stares out their face. This was the first time the Traveler had ever been face-to-face with them ever, although their elegance was undeniable their face was unmistakably the same as the person in the desert.

Without realizing Lumine mutters out the name of the person she had met just a few hours before.

Now it was time for everyone else to gasp.

A plethora of snide remarks and comments were thrown at the girl, many yelling out how dare she calls the creator by their true name or how she needs to show more respect.

The creator holds out a hands and the room immediately goes silent.

“Traveler,” their voice sickly sweet. “How are you aware of my true name?”

The blonde fiddles with her fingers for a moment, “Someone in the desert had told me that was their name. They had the same face as you.”

Their eyes widen but quickly relax as they uncross their legs to stand and approach the outlander.

“Are you telling me you saw someone running around with my face and my name?”

Lumine nods.

They rest a hand on the blonde girls shoulder giving her a soft smile.

“Where is this person now?”

Lumine shakes her head, “I’m not sure, they disappeared before I got to the city.”

They nod, “don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just want you to find this person for me and bring them here, okay?”

Words fail her and she nods at their request.

“Great. You may leave.”

———

Lumine lets out a deep breath once she was out of the room. Just being in that room made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Traveler!” Paimon floats over to her friend, “how did it go? Do they know anything about the unknown God you’re looking for?”

“They had the same face.”

“Huh?”

“The Divine One and the person in the desert.” Lumine clarifies, “they had the same face and name.”

“How’s that possible?”

The Traveler decides to stay silent, she didn’t know either and now she was tasked on finding this person and bringing them here.

“Lumine!” A voice calls out.

She turns around relaxing visibly once she meets their gaze. It was Nahida.

“Oh Nahida! It’s been a while, how’s the Wanderer?”

The Dendro Archon smiles, “he’s perfectly fine but that’s not why I approached you.”

Lumine was completely aware why the Archon decided to approach her, she was in the room when she had her ‘outburst’ with the Creator.

“You had said you saw someone who looked exactly like Their Grace, right? I was wondering if I could tag along with you in finding them.”

Lumine raises a brow, “really? You want to tag along?”

“Let’s just say I have my own suspicions…” Nahida says. “Now, where was the last place you had seen them?”

Note: Well if you made it this far that means you must’ve read all that way to the end, so thanks for that! I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes, my english is :P but I’m trying!

I know that everyone has written something for the imposter au of sagau but this has been in my head for weeks and i finally decided I wanted to put it into words and post it. I’m not sure how well it will do, or how good it even is… but yeah… :>

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin sagau #sagau lumine #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #sagau cult au

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jesncin · 15 days

Text

I hope Superman fandom as a whole will one day understand that if you truly want to commit to the immigrant allegory, scenes like Lois shooting Clark with a gun or her jumping off a building to prove he's Superman pair really badly with that allegory.

I know some fans like to say "Superman was always an immigrant allegory" and while I get the sentiment of retroactively looking at how the lives of his creators inform the character they made, we also have to acknowledge that the allegory was never consistent to begin with. The original Superman comics were fun gags and shenanigans. Superman Smashes the Klan wouldn't stand out so much if his immigrant identity was consistently integral to his character.

And if you're going to commit to Superman being an immigrant, then you've got to be open to changes on staple Superman lore. So much of this fandom is dedicated to nostalgia, references, canon events, "but Lois does that in the comics! It's not Lois Lane if she doesn't do crazy things to prove who Superman is!" without considering how that is contextualized in the allegory.

I still get so many comments on my Clois comics but especially the Private Interview comic saying "I've never seen Superman this way before" from even longtime fans of the character. Honestly, I never saw him that way until I read Smashes the Klan. Since then I want people to have that recognition of themselves in him too. But that means being brave with changes! Maybe it's okay for this version of Lois to respect Superman's boundaries. Maybe an Asian Lois can be more than an aesthetic shallow retread of white Lois.

These characters are more than callbacks and references. The reason they persist throughout many versions is because they hold themes. Lois isn't just "stunt girl reporter obsessed with Superman and THE TRUTH", she's also a jaded reporter hardened by life who finds hope again in Superman. Superman isn't just "save cats from trees" guy. He's an alien immigrant, and you can make a ton of new stories from that lens alone.

#ramblings #media criticism #jesncin dc meta #<- I will update this tag #“you're writing Lois different!” yeah no kidding I'm committing to the allegory of immigrant solidarity that doesn't exist in canon #I'm also committing to the belief that BIPOC characters aren't just white characters with flavor but whole different experiences #that should be explored! wragh had these thoughts for a while #jesncin talks maws #this is a superman smashes the klan supremacy blog

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