#i want to make a name for red/green/gold and red/green/gold/silver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

humanpurposes · 2 months

Text

It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma

Words: 7.4k

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity.

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.

Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?”

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and get you some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move.

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache.

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again?

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”

“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.

It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”

Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”

Aemond glares at him.

“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”

“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.

“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”

Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle.

He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now.

But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name.

“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.

“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”

“I meant the party.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”

There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.

“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”

“Aegon,”

“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“I can’t,”

“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,”

“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”

“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”

Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.

The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.

When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.

He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily.

Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.

Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.

His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.

She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.

He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth.

They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.

He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.

Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.

“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”

Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.

“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?

He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.

“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”

He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children.

“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”

When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.

According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.

The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.

She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.

He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.

At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.

“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”

Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her.

He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.

“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.

“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”

Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.

A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.

In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.

It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow.

A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.

Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.

He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.

With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.

This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.

The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence.

Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.

Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove.

“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.

“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”

Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.

“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?”

“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”

Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.

“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”

That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.

“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”

The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.

They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.

“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.

“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.

Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows.

“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.

His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times.

“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.

Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”

Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.

“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.

“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”

Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.

“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.

“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”

“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.

“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.

“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”

“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”

Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious.

Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings.

But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.

Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.

He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.

Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod.

Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–

Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!

Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room.

Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.

He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”

He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”

Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”

“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”

He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”

His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”

“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.

Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them?

If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”

Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget.

He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.

There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.

“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that?

Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”

“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.

Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”

He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.

Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is.

Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.

All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?

He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning.

A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.

There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye.

Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver.

He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.

He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process.

One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.

He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices.

The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.

Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.

His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.

She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach.

A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.

He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.

“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”

He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.

“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.

“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.

“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”

“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.

“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away.

“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”

That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.

“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.

“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”

“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”

“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”

She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.

“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.

He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.

She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.

Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.

Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind.

He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.

It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.

He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous.

Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.

“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

Close.

Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that.

Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.

Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.

Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?

“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”

Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.

She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”

Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.

The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.

Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.

He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.

He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.

He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.

Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And she won’t look at him.

She won’t look at him.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @asumofwords @summerposie @thedamewithabook @ammo23 @valyrianflower @jiminie-08 @magnificentdelusionr @hiddencurator

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #modern!au #aemond targaryen smut #it will come back #hozier coded #my fics

140 notes · View notes

abiiors · 5 months

Text

under the mistletoe 🎄// ross macdonald x reader (pt 2 of 2)

twelve days of christmas - day 3

a/n: best friends to lovers? no. it's idiots to lovers. this is also part 2 of secret santa cw: kissing, alcohol, very tame and cheesy. there might be typos... wc: 3k

a cheer cuts through the chatter in the room and ross finds himself standing under a mistletoe, liv first in his arms, then standing on her toes and then they’re kissing—sweet, long kisses that make him smile despite the butterflies in his stomach.

butterflies that should have been a result of the kiss. instead, it feels more like a swarm of bees buzzing in his chest from anticipation.

ross doesn’t expect to be this nervous. more than that, he doesn’t expect to pull away from the kiss before she does. even when liv looks at him with slight concern.

he certainly doesn’t expect himself to be so hung up on secret santa. he has bought plenty of gifts for people he cares about before! good ones too; sure, he’s no pro at gift giving but he’s not entirely hopeless. but this time he simply cannot afford to mess up. not when it took him two turns to get the name he really wanted.

everyone looks festive in some shade of red or green on white—and one silver but charli really pulls it off. liv has a beautiful green velvet dress on, her curly hair piled on top of her head and gold hoops dangling from her ears. liv looks stunning!

it’s her that really takes his breath away—the girl who’s been his best friend for over a decade now. the girl who now stares at him with a tight smile on her face, cheering almost on autopilot with the rest of his friends. she’s in a classic red slip dress and matching red lipstick that contrasts her skin so perfectly that ross almost feels guilty for staring at her longer than necessary. he’s right next to his girlfriend for fucks sake. he needs to focus!

the excitement in the room is off the charts! everyone’s buzzing to get to the main event—the secret santa gifts—and he feels a tiny pit of nervousness at the centre of all his enthusiasm. what if she doesn’t like his gift? what if it’s something she already has or something that’s too personal… too intimate.

liv breaks his little spiral.

“you alright?” she slides onto his lap with an easy smile and pecks him softly.

“yeah, just excited about the gifts! i wonder who got my name.” even with her on his thigh ross can’t stop his knee from bouncing up and down. the weird mixture of anticipation and butterflies is something he’s rarely felt before—not since… well not since her last birthday when he’d gotten her two tickets to the play she’d been dying to go to.

(if he’s being honest it was not since she’d asked him if he’d like to go with her.)

“me too!” liv beams and it’s as if that’s matty’s cue to announce that they can all finally, finally move to the living room.

the living room is adorned with twinkling lights and tinsel, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. a decently sized pile of gifts sits under the pretty tree—the current object of everyone’s interest. his nervousness aside, ross feels as giddy as the others do, still like a child on christmas morning about to get the long anticipated pokemon card collection.

matty gets to the pile and starts calling out names one after the other.

ross is barely even listening—his mind races with a million different possibilities. what if it’s a shit gift? what if she doesn’t like it or has something similar or doesn’t get the significance of it?

what if she thinks he put no thought into it?

he’s barely even listening when polly coos over the “cutest jumper ever!” or when george cackles over his gag gift or when matty almost goes misty eyed over the vintage book.

he only snaps out of it when matty calls out her name and envelopes her in a hug.

“it’s perfect,” he sniffles and ross burns with envy.

not envious of matty. never envious of matty but… a tiny, irrational part of him wishes she were his secret santa instead. that she spent days thinking about him, obsessing over finding the perfect gift just like he had.

that maybe she spent her nights in bed, wondering a thousand times over if her gift would make him smile (it would, ross thinks. she could get him a £10 bottle of wine and he would still cherish it dearly.)

“ross!” matty calls out and he startles a little.

matty looks at him with a slightly puzzled expression and wiggles a neatly wrapped gift in front of him. it’s square and thin with a small note attached to it.

he recognises it instantly—a handwriting he’s only recently come to know as liv’s.

liv. his girlfriend. his secret santa.

and he’s an awful, awful boyfriend for the feeling of disappointment that rises in him.

his fingers move deftly, tearing apart the wrapping paper until the gift inside becomes visible. the first thing he registers is the word “untitled” printed front and centre in big bold letters. and below it: “divine connection: the last unreleased album”. it dawns on him slowly—the band, their band. the last album from their band. just his and hers. and on autopilot, his gaze snaps up to her.

“ross?”

for the second time that evening liv’s voice cuts through his spiral and he turns around to see her standing at the door to the balcony with a half-drunk champagne flute in her hands. she’s beautiful, he thinks. she’s always been stunning but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he looks at her.

“can we talk?” she walks in and stands next to him, shoulders brushing with his. it’s a cold night. it’s silly being outside but he’s in a weird mood. he even kinda prefers it here.

“yeah of course,” he clears his throat and tries to appear casual.

“did you like your gift?”

“i did. it was… it was perfect.” at least that much is true. at least that much he can say with 100% certainty. “thank you. really, i mean it.”

“i know you do.”

for a minute she doesn’t say anything but her eyes roam over his face—a scruitinising sort of a look that makes him want to shy away. she’s never been particularly intense but in the few weeks he’s known liv, she’s had a way of guessing his little tells. it takes everything in him to not look away.

still, he closes his eyes for a minute.

the scene is still so fresh in his mind—ross opening the gift and looking up. ross staring at her and not liv. ross murmuring “thank you. it’s perfect.” and smiling at her before he even remembered that the gift was supposed to be from liv.

ross only looks at her, his best friend. and she can’t seem to meet his gaze.

liv clears her throat and brings him back to the present. she takes another swig of her champagne and offers him the glass. ross studies her lipstick smudge on the rim and accepts the drink gratefully.

“you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

a second sooner and he would have choked on the drink or done a spit-take like a fucking idiot but the question leaves him so speechless that he almost drops the glass.

“who?”

“don’t play dumb now.” her tone’s a bit sharp but her words aren’t unkind and the thought of being scolded like that makes him blush slightly and straighten up.

he’s about to speak when she continues.

“i see how you look at her—how you looked at her when you opened the gift i gave you. you knew it wasn’t from me didn’t you?”

wordlessly, he nods his head.

“you knew i didn’t think of it. you were right though. i didn’t. i went to her because she’s you best friend.”

“and she told you about the band?”

liv clicks her tongue. “she handed me the record. turns out she had you for secret santa before we picked the names again.”

“oh…”

there’s another beat of loaded silence in which he struggles to maintain eye contact with her and not feel like an utterly shit boyfriend.

“liv i—”

“i know,” she smiles briefly. “but you can’t string me along, babe. look i like you a lot. i really do and i know… i know you told me you were trying to move on from someone but i assumed that was a past relationship. i didn’t realise you were talking about…your best friend.”

“i’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “i really am. i know that was shitty of me.”

“it was a little.”

none of them speak for a few minutes. ross looks at her champagne again, wishing he’d had a drink with him for this conversation. or maybe not—maybe a clearer head is what he needs. he is getting dumped, after all.

and yet… there’s no sadness. just a faint sense of disappointment.

“so this is it i guess?”

in one gulp liv finishes the rest of her champagne and nods. “yeah. this is it. for what it’s worth ross… i have no hard feelings.”

this time when she smiles at him, it’s open and sincere. much to his relief, it’s friendly. liv stands on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. it’s chaste and quick—a goodbye, one that he returns by hugging her tightly.

liv pauses at the threshold just as she’s leaving.

“why don’t you tell her?”

ross shakes his head in disappointment and feels the familiar ache settle bone deep. the night suddenly seems so much colder than before—no longer the cosy kind that makes you want to snuggle up with a loved one. this feels sharp and biting.

“can’t,” he shrugs, “i don’t want to ruin years’ worth of friendship.”

he expects liv to understand that. it’s a perfectly normal sentiment—to love someone enough that you’d rather have some of them than none of them. but she just shakes her head at him.

“wow…” liv sighs, “for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb.”

and then she leaves him on the balcony, shivering and confused.

by the time he gets inside, there’s a lull in the party. everyone’s either drunk or loved up or both. well, maybe not everyone.

ross finds her huddled in front of the fireplace, absently staring at her wrist. at the pearl bracelet he got for her.

a near-perfect match to her beloved pearl necklace from her grandmother.

the fire casts a warm, golden glow on her—on her hair and the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, and down her chest. he stands transfixed at the threshold, waiting for something to happen.

maybe matty (passed out on the sofa) will wake up if he moves or polly might need something from him or george and charli might see them and he loves his friends but they have barely any concept of personal space after all these years. maybe he could just do it tomorrow when he’s not half-drunk, half-sober, and fully freaking out.

“ross?”

too late to hide now.

“why are you stood there? come on! it’s so cold!” she opens up her blanket cocoon—an invitation for him to join.

ross, startled by her voice, stumbles into the room. his cheeks flush with embarrassment and he clears his throat, trying to mask the awkwardness that has suddenly enveloped him.

fuck! she’s pretty. and yes he thinks that every single time he looks at her but it’s moments like these that really hit him like a gut punch.

liv’s words echo in his mind over and over again. for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb. was she trying to say what he thinks she was? or is he just delusional and projecting his own feelings onto her.

her body is soft and warm when ross settles next to her, pulling her into his side and tucking her head under his chin.

“you were deep in thought.” ross teases a bit, not ready to broach anything serious just yet. what he really wants to ask is about the record—how she’d somehow known his perfect gift before he figured it out himself.

“just thinking about how good i am at gift giving,” she teases back. “matty was ecstatic.”

she's right but he can’t help but find a different meaning in her words.

“that you are,” ross murmurs in her hair, resisting the urge to press a little kiss there. it’s too much for him—this intimacy. something like that might just tip him over the edge.

for a while she doesn’t say anything and ross wonders if she’s fallen asleep. it’s quite late and they’re quite cosy, it won’t be the first time she's fallen asleep on him. maybe, if she is asleep, he might even press that kiss onto her head after all.

“liv’s not here?” her voice breaks his train of thought. it’s not teasing anymore—she sounds neutral and controlled and… and like she’s trying not to pry.

“we broke up.”

“what?!”

she almost shrieks and matty stirs slightly but goes back to sleeping again. ross feels guilty for just dumping it on her without any context.

“i’m so sorry,” she says before he has a chance to speak. “fuck, at a christmas party too! that sucks, love. are you alright?”

“it wasn’t like that. it was…” this is it, he thinks. his one chance to get it right. “i’m perfectly fine. i’m… i’m better than fine. it’s… well she–you… fuck okay!”

he cheeks grow warm. it’s worse now that she’s properly looking at his now, her face a mixture of concern and curiosity; that she’s now an attentive audience to his pathetic flustered words.

“let me…” he takes a big deep breath and squares his shoulders. “okay. let me get this right. for the next, i don’t know, two minutes, you aren’t allowed to speak, okay? okay. so! liv and i talked.” the skepticism on her face grows and ross tries not to let it deter him. “the gift, the record—”

“was it not good?”

“oi! no speaking, remember? two minutes.” ross scolds lightly and almost laughs at her sheepish face. “as i was saying, the record. it wasn’t her idea, was it? i asked her how she knew and she told me you gave it to her. for me! why didn’t you… why didn’t you give it to me yourself?”

for all her talking a moment ago, now she seems speechless. so much so that she can barely meet his eyes.

“it was a lovely gift, darling. maybe even one of the best and… i just want to know why, that’s all.”

her cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink, and she fidgets with the edge of the blanket. “i guess i wanted you to have something meaningful without making things awkward. i’d already bought the gift and i didn't want to complicate our friendship with something that felt so… personal, especially with liv being in the picture. and…fuck! if that’s what made you break up, i’m so sorry, i—"

“it didn’t,” he cuts her off firmly. ross can’t help but notice the small details of her face then—the tiny smudges of mascara from no doubt when she sleepily rubbed her eyes, the glitter on her eyelids reflecting the firelight. her big, beautiful eyes and dilated pupils.

her slightly smudged lipstick…

fuck, it’s the tiny lipstick smudge on the corner of her lips that makes him lose his ability to think straight.

“we broke up because… well there’s someone else,” he speaks in a low volume. subconsciously, she leans forward.

“someone else?”

the room falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling fire. she waits, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he's joking or playing some elaborate prank. but the sincerity in his expression leaves no room for doubt.

“you’re my best friend,” he says, “and fuck, do i resent that! how am i… darling, how am i meant to pretend you’re just my friend when you’re the fucking focal point of my world?”

her breath catches so audibly that it’s almost a gasp. he waits for her to say something. anything. instead she leans in an presses her lips to his.

it’s so unsure at first, almost like she freezes and her brain can’t figure out where to go next. the kiss lingers, soft and tentative—both testing the waters of something uncharted. ross's mind races, trying to process the warmth of her lips against his, the subtle taste of her lipstick.

she pulls away before he’s even had the chance to kiss her back and hides her face in his chest.

“oh god, that was too soon, wasn’t it! that was–you just broke up and i—”

“love, don't hide your face, don't…” his hands gently cup her flushed face, making her look up at him once again even when she can barely meet his eyes and in that moment he realises he’s never seen someone so beautiful.

so this time when ross crashes his lips against hers, he makes sure to pull her closer. to hold onto her tightly. his arms are around her, her hands in his hair and oh she fits so perfectly in the crevices of his body. like a perfect puzzle piece.

by the time they finally pull apart, slightly breathless and grinning uncontrollably, ross hears her giggle.

“wow, that was my first kiss under a mistletoe…”

“we aren’t—”

“i know, but we’re next to one so it’s almost the same.”

he looks to where she’s pointing, to the little bunch tied above the fireplace.

“we could do better, darling.”

“yeah?”

“mm-hmm,” he murmurs, stealing another quick kiss from her. “let me take you home.”

and she agrees in a heartbeat.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem

add yourself to the taglist

#christmas75 #12 days of christmas #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x reader #ross x you #ross macdonald angst #the 1975 angst #minor angst #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #angst to fluff???#in all honesty i kinda hate this because writer's block is a bitch but i can complain here because no one is going to see these tags #yeah. genuinely not very happy with this but also not in the position to rewrite it so we move

113 notes · View notes

stalkerofthegods · 5 months

Text

Hestia Deep Divs

Herbs • Chaste trees, Rosemary, Parsley, Basil, Sorrel, vanilla, Cinnamon, coriander, Marjoram, Mint, Lemon balm, cloves, clary sage, Allspice, Angelica, Coriander, poppy seed, chamomile, Angelica, Bay, garlic, mint, peppermint, pepper, marjoram, The lavender, the chaste tree, the datura, the California poppy, the goldenrod, the hollyhock, the yarrow, the purple coneflower, all white flowers, Lavender, White roses, angel’s trumpet, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow, pine, Wildflowers & sunflowers, raspberry leaves, sage, pearly everlasting, yellow rose

Animals• pigs, donkeys, one-year-old cows, a Crane.

Zodiac & scared number • unknown, I cannot find out what month she was born on, or the day. But I would associate numbers 1, and 6 because she is the oldest and the youngest (and etc, but who even likes my rambles?)

Colors •Gold, yellow, orange, red, White, Gold, Lavender, light purple, black, silver, and dark red

Crystal•Carnelian, Garnet, Goldstone, Calcite, Topaz, garnet, amethyst, lapis lazuli, green tourmaline, Vanadinite, Quartz, gold, silver, and brass, Amber colored crystals, citrine, clear quartz, sunstone.

Symbols• a kettle, the hearth (fireplace), torch, candle

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• friendship bracelets

Diety of• the virgin goddess of the home and hearth fire, cooking of meals, and sacrificial food for feasts, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state, and sacrificial flame

Patron of where the families ate and congregated, hospitality, family.

Offerings• give her prayer beads that remind you of her that are not Christian (or make one, which is better), wooden beads, Oil Lamps, Seven Day Candles (because they burn for 7 days), LED Candles, A Candle that reminds you of home, White or red candles, Apple juice, cider, Wine, Baked goods, keys to the home (preferably not stolen(looking at Hermes devotees))), Small kitchen antiques/objects, pottery/cups/bowls, artwork of homey things, a meal, your favorite things, poetry, books, items you made, fall-themed stuff, spring-themed stuff, First/last foods & libations from a meal, Candles/flame, Honey, Pork, Cakes or Cookies made to look like one of Her symbols,), Keeping a candle/hearth fire or lamp constantly burning, Pictures of homes you want to live in one day, pictures of homes you have lived in, Pictures of architecture that you like, Teacups, teaspoons, tea towels, Childhood memories (ex- stuffed toys, baby clothes, old photos), Homegrown herbs, Toys or art of donkeys and pigs, Leaves or blooms from a chaste tree, Tea light candles (real or fake), Your favorite poetry or poetry you have written for Her, Your favorite books, Stories you have written, Art of flames, fire, candles, Garmets that you have made such as clothing, blankets, beanies, Homemade lotions, bath bombs, shower gel, bubble bath (You can ask Her to bless them then use them she probably won't say no), Beeswax products, honey, olive oil, pumpkin pie

Devotional• Pick up rubbish in communal areas, Offer the first or last bites/portions of food your to her, Cooking/baking for yourself or others, Having a candle lit whenever possible (electric or real), playing a video of a fire place, Volunteerring at homeless or DV shelters, donating to homeless or DV shelters, Setting healthy boundaries with friends and family, reading about Tea/Coffee magick, Getting involved with your local community, Advocating for policies you believe will better the community Allowing yourself to rest, Do a chore you've been putting off for a long time, organize to hang out with some loved ones, Veil or bind your hair, Wear something red or orange, Make a devotional playlist for her, make a Pinterest board or a mood board for her, Learn about kitchen witchery, Cook a meal in her name, Clean the House, Put together a puzzle, Eat popcorn and watch a movie, do Knitting, read about knitting, donate yarn and

knitting supply’s, prepare food for family, make the table before eating, garden, Harvest berries, pick flowers, Donate to food charity/drives, Support people who lost their homes to natural disasters, Welcoming others into your home, Keeping the peace (especially in the home), Donations of time & money to Habitat for Humanity, Do little (or big) acts of kindness, If you have a fireplace light it for Her or build Her altar around it, Meditate next to a fire, Read poetry or a book, play a playlist for Her and play it while you clean or cooks, Clean your house/room and keep it nice and tidy, Take a cooking or baking class, Collect recipes and keep a recipe book, Host celebrations at your home, Remember your ancestors and learn more about them, Spend time with your pets, Take care of yourself and your mental and physical health (Your body is a home for you), Take a hot bath, eat some ice cream, chill at home for a day, Pray to Her( ex- for protection, inspiration, happiness, guidance, and help getting rid of negative entities in the home, peace in the home, good food, an abundance of food, independence), help to start/tending to the hearth, work on having strong family bonds, Open your curtains and let the sunlight warm the room, Make a potful of tea and keep it in a large thermos, Watch movies that make you feel nostalgic and cozy, Say goodnight and good morning to her, Get an electric blanket and feel the warmth connect you to her, Cuddle a stuffed animal, Make a blog/journal filled with cozy homely things, Keep a few locally baked goodies nearby for when you need them, String up fairy lights and use them as your only light source, Whisper prayers and devotional pieces before you go to sleep, Use a Himalayan salt lamp to connect to feeling of a fire, Invest in little things (ex- pillowcases, photos, curtains) that make your room feel welcoming and peaceful, Make a little bottle filled with herbs and crystals and other things that remind you of her, Listen to music that makes your soul happy and your heart content, Take care of yourself (ex- Brush your hair, use a wet cloth on your face), Keep a tealight on you, Clean one small area of your house, Savor a hot drink, Do small, unnoticed acts of kindness, Always greet animals (both big and small), Do anything by candlelight, Wear colors you associate with her, Practice your patience (both external and internal), Be a listening ear or shoulder to cry on for those who need it, Make compromises when it is healthiest for both parties, always have a lighter or matches, Listen to music that reminds you of her, Spend time tending to your body, Leave a big tip the next time you have a chance, Practice kindness in all areas of your life (including driving), Take a hot bath or shower with no time limit, Decorate a space, Build a fire, Compliment people (both strangers and loloved ones), Donate something (ex-clothes, money, or your time), Look at photos and embrace the happy nostalgia, Wear makeup or jewelry that reminds you of her, Wake up early to see the sunrise - or watch the sunset, Watch/read about acts of kindness to be inspired, wear prayer beads that are for her, go to a high school reunion, do a family reunion, do budgeting in her honor, do meal planning, set healthy boundaries, have a household notebook, do seasonal cleaning, try home remedies,As you light your gas stove, say a prayer to Hestia, Spend quiet quality time at home, Gather your family (including your chosen family) for a festive candlelit meal, Commit to spending more time with children and old people.

Ephithets•Äídios - eternal, Aïdius – See Äídios., Basileia - See Vasíleia, Bulaea - See Voulaia., Chloömorphus – See Khlöómorphos, Daughter of lovely-haired Rǽa, Khlöómorphos - verdan, Polýmorphos - multi-formed, Polyolbus – See Polýolvos, Polýolvos - rich in blessings, Potheinotáti - beloved, Prutaneia – See Prytaneia, Prytanei, Vasíleia - queen, Voulaia - of the council, Prytaneia -”of the Prytanis.”

Equivalents• Vesta (Roman), loki (Norse), Brigid (Celtic), Hathor (Egyptian)

Signs they are reaching out• having a strong urge to Vail in her honor, seeing her animals and symbols in your dreams, and seeing her imagery a lot, everything at home suddenly going well.

Vows/omans• that she “would be a maiden all her days”

Morals• morally light/pure

Courting• None

Past lovers/crushes• None

Personality• She avoids drama, and is generous, but her temper is volcanic in nature, she is slow to anger, but when she gets angry her rage is a force of nature. She is modest, tranquil, and industrious

Home• Mount Olympus

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Fact• Historically she is supposed to be the first deity offered to in a ritual due to being the goddess of fire, she's the oldest Olympian, She is spat out last by Kronos so she is also the youngest, she shares her seat with Diyonisus, she did not give it up, she receives a share of every sacrifice/prayer to the gods, and she is commonly seen alongside with Hermes, I would recommend putting their alters close together.

Element• fire

Curses• a bad family life, food being burnt, having not enough food, being turned away at restaurants, being homeless, your house catching on fire

Blessings• all domestic happiness and blessings

Roots• Greek mythology….and she was raised in her father's stomach, and at the first years of theogony era.

Friends• all of the gods, but most notably Hermes, but is not friends with Priapus, she dislikes him (he tried to rape her.)

Parentage• Cronus and Rhea

Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, Demeter, Hera

Pet• she has no pets.

Children • she has no children.

Appearance in astral or gen• she was typically represented wearing a veil and robe. In some images, she held a flowering branch or kettle as well.

Festivals • None, at every feast and meal a liberation was made to her name first and last, but I associate Thanksgiving with her, but her Roman counter part Vesta has 1-15 June of each year, an then another festival celebrated on 8-9 July. Hestia is also mentioned on 8 June. But a neo-pagan sets aside 26 December – 22 January as a month devoted to Hestia.

Status• Virgin theoi goddess.

What disrespects her turning away people at your home (she is a goddess of hospitality and it was seen as disrespectful to her to do so.)

Planet• unknown

Her Tarot cards• the Temperance, the fourteenth Major Arcana card.

Remind me of• Hot cocoa, and Thanksgiving.

Scents/Inscene • Lavender, Rose, spring water, rain, Pumpkin, Apple pie, cinnamon, fall leaves, Chamomile, Myrrh, Frankincense, Iris, Angelica, Peony, Angelica, iris, Sandalwood

My opinion • I like her, but I'm scared of her too. (what a shocker!)

Prayers•

Historical-

Holy Queen of Sanctity, we hymn you, Hestia, whose abiding realm is Olympus and the middle point of earth and the Delphic laurel tree! You dance around Apollo’s towering temple rejoicing both in the tripod’s mantic voices and when Apollo sounds the seven strings of his golden phorminx and, with you, sings the praises of the feasting gods. We salute you, daughter of Kronos and Rhea, who alone brings firelight to the sacred altars of the gods; Hestia, reward our prayer, grant wealth obtained in honesty; then we shall always, dance around your glistening throne.

For the lost -

Blessed Hestia, the first and the last, and the always flame. May your light burn bright and strong, May your prayers be those of respect and love, May you guide the lost, And give to those who have nothing. I give thanks to you, Hestia, for all that you have done And continue to do.

For people with intrusive thoughts -

I ask Hestia, the kind goddess, to help those who feel down. May they find comfort and peace inside of their homes and inside their own minds. Protect them for their destructive thoughts, and be the safe place they need so much

A prayer for homeles—

In Hestia’s name, may you always have a home and a roof over your head. May you always be comfortable and warm with a full belly. May you always be in good spirits and good company, never knowing the pervading loneliness that envelopes the soul.

Morning

Blessed Hestia, Fill this home with your light and bounty, As the day fills it with golden sunshine.

Evening

Glorious Hestia, Let your hearth fire warm this house, As night draws her shadowed cloak over it now.

Blessings of the kitchen-

Hestia bless my little kitchen, I love it’s every nook And bless me as I do my work, Wash pots and pans and cook. May the meals that I prepare, Be seasoned from above, With thy blessings and thy grace, But most of all thy love

Links/websites/sources •

ts-witchy-archive, constantly-disheveled, saryoak, eldritchhorror06, https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amp, https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amphttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://www.learnreligions.com/hestia-greek-goddess-of-the-hearth-2561993#:~:text=Keep%20a%20candle%20dedicated%20to,prayers%2C%20songs%2C%20or%20hymns.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.html#:~:text=In%20myth%20Hestia%20was%20the,youngest%20of%20the%20six%20Kronides.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.htmlhttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia#google_vignettehttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestiahttps://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/hestia/https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai https://hestiasservant.wordpress.com/2018/05/27/honoring-hestia-a-festival-every-day/https://www.elissos.com/the-family-goddess-hestia-mother-of-all-gods/#:~:text=The%20birth%20of%20Hestia%20dates,to%20his%20throne%2C%20his%20children.https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhea_(mythology)#:~:text=According%20to%20Hesiod%2C%20Rhea%20had,and%20Zeus%20in%20that%20order.https://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/14sy8cj/is_hestia_reaching_out_to_me/https://mythopedia.com/topics/hestia

http://persephoneandhecate.blogspot.com/2011/06/exploring-archetypes-hestia.html?m=1https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://honeyandhestia.tumblr.com/post/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/heatherwitch/160613514230/hestiavesta https://constantly-disheveled.tumblr.com/post/156636591525/can-a-hearth-fire-just-be-a-candle-that-you-lighthttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169551188078/devotional-activities-for-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/167758105763/jar-to-help-me-connect-to-hestia-chamomilehttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171225676313/burn-herbs-and-spices-as-an-offering-to-hestia-i https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183383795283/what-kind-of-crystals-would-yall-associate-with https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171208375440/a-historical-prayer-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169394109439/i-ask-hestia-the-kind-goddess-to-help-those-who https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/166938581678/if-youre-still-doing-prayer-requests-may-you-be https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/178225408393/lady-hestia-goddess-of-comfort-and-warmth-to https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183772520921/a-little-kitchen-prayer-for-hestia https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai

106 notes · View notes

zelinkdragons · 9 months

Text

@hellenicheart3610 replied to your post:

i love how much link looks like farosh 🥹 we need more triforce imagery in loz ong

Thanks! I’m glad people like him! 😊

I loved how the Light Dragon’s horns and spikes were blue, the colour associated with the Triforce of Wisdom, and the Demon Dragon’s spikes were red like the Triforce of Power. That’s why I just couldn’t make Link a green dragon, his spikes and horn had to be green instead 💚 I think the silver scales and green look nice together, and complement the Light Dragon’s gold accents.

To compare him and the others to the Servants of the Spring dragons, notice how the Demon Dragon’s horns have this rough, bonelike texture like Dinraal’s, with ridges and sections to them.

Similarly, the Light Dragon’s horns are smooth and crystal-like, like Naydra’s, and point backwards too.

So I figured Link, like Farosh, should have a single horn facing forward. I don’t like how wide Farosh’s horn is though, that’s why I wanted Link’s horn to take inspiration from the decayed Master Sword, and to fit in with his Knight Dragon name with a swordlike horn.

Dragon Link AU | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

183 notes · View notes

8aji · 2 years

Text

do you think he’ll think i’m really pretty? // s.s.

pairing: shinichiro sano x baji!reader, ft. little brother baji

wc: 1.6k

synopsis: harmless threats will get to you eventually, but you’ll tolerate it as long as he helps you pick out between silver and gold, and a pair of heels.

tags/cw: fluff, gendered terms used on reader (nee-chan), baji is reader's little brother, cursing, baji/reader dynamic centric, shin appears at the end, mentions of knives but in reference to a meme, reader does her makeup and wears earrings, heels aren't explicitly mentioned i just put it in the synopsis, typos, grammarly lied— let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: im so tired idk what to say LMFAO but i hope you enjoy as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 i adore baji so much and he deserves the world. thank u @thelastoreo for helping me figure out my crisis and @guav your flaco shinichiro MWAH!

m.list 𖥻 tags 𖥻 byi/dni

Tunes were tuning, and you were laser-focused on the mirror, ignoring the indescribable mess sitting on the counter. Keisuke sat on the green step stool he used to brush his teeth, cheek smushed against his fist with a bored expression looming on his features. He couldn't help but roll his eyes every time you groaned in discontent, rubbing with your fingertips at the smudged makeup.

“I can’t believe Shinichiro-nii asked you out,”

You whispered a shut up under your breath, rolled your eyes at him and continued flicking the blending brush against your skin. Despite putting together a nice outfit, a dashing makeup look and picking out a couple of accessories, your inherent indecisiveness when it came to impressing Shinichiro Sano was too much for you to handle on your own.

“He’s too good for you anyway,” He huffed, pouting.

Biting your lip to hide the cheesy smile threatening to grace your features, you ignored his taunt and grabbed both pairs of hoops sitting in front of you. One gold and one silver, you let them dangle on your fingers enjoying the coolness of them both for a bit, before holding them up in front of him.

“He’s so cool and you’re…you— I like the gold ones better.”

The urge to smack the back of his head, overpowering, but you held back. Instead, you agreed with his choice, following him blindly through your wishy-washy decision-making tendencies.

“You know he rides a motorcycle, right?— I like the red one the most—you can’t even get your driver’s licence,”

You went to pick the colour he was referring—or the one you thought he was referring—to, humming along the song under your breath until you felt his hand smack yours. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it did make you flinch in surprise, almost gasping in disbelief. He stood up, hands on his hips, annoyed, a disproving look in his eyes.

“I meant the other red, see? You’re dumb.”

How silly of you, almost as if the lipsticks you had shoved under his nose for him to pick were all varying shades of the same colour, red.

“I’m dumb? You can’t even write your own name, stupid.”

“You didn't— Mom! Nee-chan called me stupid!”

“Shut the fuck— I didn’t! Keisuke’s lying!”

“I’m not! You said— oh, pick that sparkly one.”

All it really took to calm him down was to show him a couple of highlighter options for him to choose from, little fangs poking his bottom lip as he grinned. He’d never admit to it out loud, but even if you didn’t force him to work as moral support, he’d willingly keep you company while you got your makeup done, entranced with the way different products sparkled under the bathroom lights, entranced with the way you seemed to be using your face as a canvas.

He sat back down, legs dangling back and forth. Cute, anyone would think, but the smugness behind those evil-manipulative-child-sized eyes made your blood boil, frowning because you knew, he knew you needed him on your good side, play nice with him for reasons like a) needing his help, and b) if you wanted your mom to let you hang out with the love of your life. And, you knew, he knew, you knew that; he’d be stupid not to exploit this opportunity.

“Where are you guys going anyway?”

“None of your business.”

“Remember that time you broke the tv?” He asked, eyes sparkling as if he didn’t know what he was doing. “you had to use my piggy bank to buy a new one before mom got home, do you think she noticed the colour change?"

“We’re going to a party.” Muttering the answer between gritted teeth, your response made him sparkle with joy. He looked uncannily similar to the smug cat from that one meme.

“What kind of party?”

“Why do you care?”

“I think the pan you threw at me once still has a dent on it.”

Vibing to the music coming out of your phone’s speakers was getting progressively harder, you could almost feel a vein pop out on your temple, you could only take so much teasing without being able to ‘jab back’. Even if you asked him how the hell he got so annoying, he’d probably Uno-reverse-card you, tell you he learned it all from you.

“When are you leaving anyway? I don’t wanna see your ugly face anymore—”

“Keisuke,” you cut him off, making eye contact with him through the mirror; he shuddered. You could handle being threatened with a death sentence, AKA him snitching to your mom, but would not tolerate this little shit (endearingly, and only slightly threatening) calling you ugly. “Rephrase that.”

“Sorry,” he disliked getting scolded, but even he had to admit he might’ve gone just a little too far; breaking the unspoken rule of never mocking each other’s appearances. “I meant, when is Shinichiro-nii getting here? I wanna see him.”

Right after mentioning your beloved his best friend’s brother, the roaring sound of a motorcycle engine broke through the music, catching the both of you off-guard. It was only when it shut down that you looked at each other, making eye contact in a state of despair.

“Grab me a pair of heels while I finish here.”

This time he didn’t try to playfully exploit his role as an executive assistant, instead going straight to your closet and picking a pair of shoes that went the best—or at least good according to a child’s standards—with the outfit you chose, helping you fasten the straps on your ankles as you finished spritzing some setting spray.

He ran out the door, screaming SHIN-NII!!!!!! as if he hadn't seen the older boy in forever, jumping onto his arms and making him lose his balance as the both of them laughed.

“I missed you!” He exclaimed, beaming as Shinichiro ruffled his hair after putting him down. “Can I please sit on your bike?”

Their laughter could be heard from inside the house, and after you let your mom know you were heading out, you were met with the wholesome scene of Keisuke sitting in front of Shin, as the older tried teaching him the correct way to hold onto the hand clutch, how to switch on and off the light, and so on.

You didn't dare intrude on the moment, though announcing your presence wasn't necessary because as soon as you entered your brother’s peripheral field of vision, he called out to you.

“Nee-chan! Look! Shin-nii is teaching me how to ride a bike!”

The sudden intrusion made his companion stumble, trying to stabilise the bike as Keisuke tried to stand on the seat. Still, even after regaining his balance, he fumbled, hard, as soon as he took a moment to take in the sight of you, almost missing the bike when he tried leaning against it, in a very nonchalant, very not Shinichiro, way.

“Hey,” he prays to anything out there that you didn't notice the subtle voice crack that accompanied his words; news flash, you did. “You look really neat, nice, I meant nice.”

“Just nice?” you teased, not letting the opportunity of taking the upper hand go; he was cute while flustered.

“I– no, I meant that I think you’re really pretty.”

“Thanks.” You beamed, soaking in the praise like a cat would roll around in the sun, though trying to keep your cool regardless. After all, You were as weak for him as Shinichiro was for you.

But good things don’t last, because of course he saw the opportunity to tease you back, even if his teasing sucked and left him a bigger flustered mess.

“So you agree?” another one of your boys looked like the smug cat with a knife against his throat. “You think you’re really pretty?”

“I’m never showing you the shit I like again.”

Ah, Shinichiro Sano, to get lost in his eyes was not only the ultimate fantasy but a very plausible reality, that was until Keisuke tugged on your hand, shaking the jar he had taken from the kitchen in what seemed like milliseconds.

“Swear jar,” he prodded. You rolled your eyes, once again basking in Shin’s chuckle as you searched in your purse for some loose change. “You said ‘shit’.”

The clatter of coins filled in the comfortable silence, it seemed to satisfy your brother enough because without any other words he took the jar back inside.

“Shall we go now?” you cocked your head lightly, holding back the urge—how many urges did you need to hold back today, huh?—to kiss him right there and then. “‘Don’t wanna be later than we already are.”

"Sure, but, uh, movie references aside," he joked, running his hand through his dark locks. He grabbed the spare helmet hanging from the handle of his bike and fastened the straps against your neck, the slight touch making your heart flutter. "I do think you look really pretty, all the ti—”

“Wait!”

Neverendless energy giving him what seemed like a boost of speed, Keisuke made his way back to you, side-eyeing Shinichiro—in the oddest fashion possible because this man was something akin to an idol to your little brother—and signaled for you to lower your head to his height, wanting to whisper something in your ear.

“I’m sorry for calling you ugly,” he mumbled, though his whispering voice was still something that needed some tweaks here and there because Shin could hear the message loud and clear. “I think you’re always pretty.”

And after a quick hug, careful enough for you not to tumble over, and an enthusiastic wave, he was gone.

That’s what Keisuke was for, moral support.

“Okay so, this shirt,” he said, raising the hanger a little higher to emphasise his options. “Or this shirt.”

“They’re both white shirts.” Manjiro deadpanned, speaking despite the lollipop poking at his cheek.

Shinichiro rolled his eyes, a groan threatening to leave his throat in discontent. He would’ve asked Emma for help, she’d give him pretty decent advice, but she was hanging out with some friends from school. So Manjiro it was, and he could use all the advice he could get regardless of what, or who, the source of information was; he too, could be indecisive when it came to you.

“They’re not,” He retaliated, pointing at one of the shirt’s sleeves with his eyes. “This one is longer than the other.”

Manjiro sighed, laying completely flat on his brother’s bed as if he had given up on helping the unhelpable.

“I don’t understand why y/n nee-chan said yes to you,” already having the habit of teasing the shit out of his big brother, the jabs that left his lips came out way too flawlessly. But because Manjiro, despite being a little shit, knew his brother was struggling so he decided to go a little softer on him.

“Nee-chan is so cool and,” yeah, going a little softer on Shin would work, he wasn’t heartless after all. “You suck.”

Yeah, Shin should've just begged Emma to stay.

#master collection.#tr collection.#shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano fluff #shinichiro fluff #sano shinichiro x you #shinichiro x you #tr fluff #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

654 notes · View notes

divinemare · 8 months

Text

Cruel Cauldron

✎ᝰ┆azriel x oc

ᝰ┆part one

part two

this has been literally on my mind FOREVER, to give you a little introduction, an arrange marriage between an oc princess and our lovely shadowsinger, where they ofc hate each others guts.

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advance!

—— —͙ – -

When her feet touched the ground, Karina felt the racing urge to throw up overcome her.

“Don’t disappoint me any further, Karina,” her mother’s words echoed in her mind, making her stand extra tall and keep her chin up even tho the female could not see her now.

“I’m gonna make you pay for this, mother,” she thought to herself, feeling her blood run hot and her breath catching as she took in the whole situation of what her life had become in the last weeks.

And all for a stupid, Cauldron-fucking-damned bond.

៚ ·

Three weeks ago…

Anthra was one of the mightiest kingdoms in all the Continent, yet not the mightiest. And that had always been a bother to her mother, Queen Verena Basdearg of Anthra. A ruthless female who had always been jealous of the mighty Hybern and Prythian realms.

Anthra, her homeland, consistent of three principal lands:

The Black Land, was where the finest clothes, and the most delicious crops would come from.

The Silver Land; it was known for its concentration of mines: the rarest, most precious jewels came from there, as well as the gold and silver and bronze.

And finally, the Red Land. Where all the most terrible, brutal soldiers where forged in, hence the name; red as the blood staining its floors.

And all three of them answered to the Imperial Queen.

Which, also happened to be her mother, one of the most feared females in the Continent.

Princess Karina Basdearg of Anthra, Second Daughter, Princess of the Valley and the Silver Land. Was anything but what a princess was expected to be if only when…: gracious —if only while her mother stared her way—, polite —whenever she actually liked the person she had to treat with, or her mother was in ears length. Not to mention that breathtakingly gorgeous as well —that she always was—, or so the lords and nobles always loved to tell her whenever they were so desperately trying to get her favor.

Now she was getting ready to humor them again, in her mother’s monthly grand dinner with the lords of the three lands. Brushing her brown black hair and testing which color of tint would best suit her dark olive skin tone.

Two soft knocks on the oak doors of her room made her stare into its direction from her mirror, and so she only bothered to mutter a ‘come in’, before a female poked her head into the room.

“Are you ready?” Her sister asked in the soft cool tone of her voice.

Before her was Princess Arisa Basdearg of Anthra, First Daughter and Heir to the Imperial Throne, Crown Princess.

They shared several physical aspects; like their hair and their skin and their button noses. Yet Arisa’s features were sharper, more grown, either for 200 years of difference between the two of them, of the burdens it carried that Karina would never understand. As well as the gemstone green eyes that had once belonged to their father, unlike the honey amber eyes Karina had inherited from their mother.

And then there was also the fact that, Arisa was everything Karina was not; actually polite, actually gracious, actually fit for a Queen.

Arisa was the success, while she was always meant to be the disappointment. But that never actually bothered her tho, it took one look at her big sister to know she never wanted to carry the burdens Arisa did.

“Not yet,” she replied with a sigh, brushing her thick eyebrows with a little brush.

Arisa smiled playfully through the mirror, and Karina lifted one of her now perfectly brushed eyebrows at her sister.

“Maxon came to visit.”

Karina’s eyes instantly sparkled at the mention of the name, but keeping her best composure in front of her sister, she left the brush calmly on the table and turned to look at the female with an unbothered eyebrow up.

“Did he, now?”

Arisa nodded, and with a smile, added: “So did Bastian and Fiona,” at that, Karina didn’t have it in her not to smile, and she jumped out of her sit and ran out of her bedchamber, and into the long halls of the palace. “Karina, wait, don’t run!” Her sister’s voice echoed behind her.

She only stoped running once she was at the entrance of the dinning hall, where every month the grand dinners were held. Karina gathered some air and fixed her dress just in case her mother was already inside. She gave a look to the guards, and they, ever so discreetly, nodded their approval before opening the doors.

The oak cracked as the dinning hall’s chandelier lights greeted her entrance, and all heads already present turned to look at the Princess who had just arrived.

Karina’s eyes, tho, only looked for three specific pairs once it was obvious her mother was still not there, and when hers found the browns she had been looking for, her smile stretched and she ever so gracefully nodded to the lords that made a curtsy for her, then walked as fast as she could without looking too un-mannered towards the already opened arms and bright smile of Maxon Hatchett.

“Your Highness,” the male inclined his head, and as soon as he was up, Karina threw her arms around his neck in a hug.

She had missed his brown eyes and dirty blond curly hair, his dimpled smile, his sun-kissed skin, his strong arms and wide shoulders. Maxon Hatchett was truly a male that attracted looks everywhere he went. But mostly, she had missed her best friend, and the only guy that made her heart jump with excitement.

Maxon laugh lowly, the sound brushing Karina’s shoulder, and then murmured, in a soft, low voice:

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Liar,” she said in a whisper. “You would’ve written if that were true.”

“I’m afraid that was my fault, cousin, I kept him rather busy,” when Karina parted from Maxon’s hug, her smile immediately grew at the sight of Bastian Basdearg.

Karina hugged the male with the shoulder-length black hair, the one with whom she shared their olive dark skin and honey amber eyes, who towered her for over a foot for how tall that motherfucker was, her cousin Bastian, as tightly as she had hugged the male before him, and then pushed him away to eagerly look for the auburn hair of…

“There’s no way you’ve grown this much,” she laughed at the sight of the little Fiona Basdearg already not so…little.

Both females smiled and hugged each other, while Karina complimented her other cousin over and over again.

“What are you all doing here, I thought you two were busy in the Red Land.”

As part of the Imperial family, and the only other one in the line of success since her father died leaving her mother with no more heirs, Bastian had inherited the Red Land from his mother: her mother’s only living sister. While Fiona, even tho she was still too young to formally become Princess according to their laws, was to inherit the Black Lands from her father: her mother’s only living brother.

There had been 6 siblings in her mother’s line, now there were only three. Karina had heard of one of them, the other two; she hadn’t even bothered to ask.

“Well, we were, but…” Bastian started, but the words got cut off from him when the oak doors of the dinning hall opened again with their loud creak, and inside came Queen Verena Basdearg.

Everyone instantly curtsied, and Karina couldn’t help but raise her eyes to meet her mother’s cold stare.

That’s why she hated to have her mother’s eyes; while honey amber was supposed to be such a warm color, Verena Basdearg made sure to turn it colder than any icy blue.

Arisa came trailing their mother’s back like the good Crown Princess she was, and Karina gave her sister a questioning look when the room filled in with more tension than usual, only for Arisa to advert her gaze from her, telling Karina she —and, mercifully, Fiona too—, seemed to be the only one left in oblivion there.

But when her mother opened her mouth, when the venomous tongue rolled to spat sharp words, Karina fell in absolute shock with each and every sentence.

“I hope someone here is ready to tell me why has Prythian declared war, and what are we gonna do to wipe them off of this Continent if it so happens to be the case.”

៚ ·

Karina almost dropped the glass liquor cup she had just grabbed when she heard her mother’s statement.

Prythian had what? And they were going to do what?

On a normal setting, Karina would’ve struggled not to laugh, because even tho they had one of the most powerful armies in the Continent, that their soldiers were known for their brutality and efficiency, and they counted with a large amount of wealth and powerful people, they had always been some steps behind Prythian, behind the powerful High Lords and the great Seven Courts.

But now, after they had gone into a war with not other than Hybern…

The repercussions of a war could leave the strongest of kingdoms in vulnerability and danger, and Prythian, as of right now, wouldn’t survive another war with another powerful and healthy enemy.

“What, in the name of the Mother, is going on,” she asked in a low whisper to Maxon when everyone else was sitting at the table, discussing the supposed offense Prythian had committed against Anthra, while they stayed in a corner watching everything unfold. Fiona sat at their feet with a bored look on her freckled face, and the curls of her red hair falling in her soft olive skin.

Maxon was the second son of the Red Land Lord, she was the second princess, and Fiona was not even a princess yet, they weren’t needed in the big discussions yet, leaving them at the sideways at all times.

It had been why Maxon and Karina had gotten along so quickly centuries ago, they both understood each other, as they both lived under their siblings shadows.

“You can thank this all to my wonderful cousin,” he sighed, shaking his head, while Karina furrowed her eyebrows together.

“What does Yvett have to do with this?”

“She got killed,” he said it so nonchalantly that it took Karina a moment to actually process the words, and almost spit out the liquor in her mouth when she did.

“What?!” She murmured loudly, cleaning the few drops that fell on her chin with her wrist.

“Remember that guy I told you she ran away with?” Of course she remembered, it had been the biggest scandal in court for months.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well he was just as awful as her. The son of an apparently really importar member of the Court of Nightmares. She got in deep shit trouble and got what she deserved at the end.”

“That’s…” Karina stared at the male with a frown. “The most vague explanation I’ve ever heard.”

“I didn’t asked for much detail,” Maxon lifted an uninterested shoulder, and Karina rolled her eyes.

The death of Yvett wouldn’t have presented such a big conflict if she didn’t happen to also be the daughter of the Queen’s Alhara; a group of the five most rewarded and trusted soldiers of the Imperial Guard. And her mother’s oldest —and only— friend.

“Fucking hell,” she exhaled a long breath, and Maxon nodded with a sigh of his own.

“Fucking hell indeed.”

៚ ·

“Please tell me mother is not going to do something outrageous,” once dinner was over and everyone was sent to their chambers to rest, the Basdearg sisters instead made their way to the palace gardens for a late night walk under the beautiful moon.

Arisa sighed, giving Karina a bad impression already.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated? It’s not, really. You and I both knew Yvette, outside this lands that protected her for her mother’s rank, sooner or later she was going to get herself killed, that bitch was despicable.”

“Karina!” Her sister reprimanded, but did not corrected her, as she knew her words were true.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“You know mother,” Arisa said with another sigh, and Karina clicked her tongue in response.

“Mother has been looking for an excuse to put a spike on half of Prythian High Lords to put us above them.”

When Karina finished spitting her words, she looked at her sister and noticed the tiredness and wariness in her eyes, and sighed putting her arm around the female’s. Her sister was constantly working, constantly worrying, and Karina hated to see her so worked up.

“How’s Taj? Haven’t seen him today.”

Taj was her sister’s husband, they had been together for already 400 years, and were one of the only marriages in the history of their family that had been actually out of love.

They had been lucky when they met centuries ago in one of her sisters political trips around the Continent, he was a noble from another kingdom, and they had fallen madly and annoyingly in love.

In other words, they could be described as the perfect royal love fantasy, a happy, thriving couple. Now that Karina did envied.

Their mother had been so proud Arisa had secured a strong alliance, yet another thing she did unintentionally perfect. While the only person Karina had ever wanted had been never enough to please her mother. Even if Maxon was the son of a Lord, he wouldn’t give her mother more power, and that was enough for the Queen to disapprove of any kind of affection her daughter felt for the male.

“He’s…busy, organizing a trip,” Arisa said without looking at her.

Karina lifted an eyebrow, noticing the faint shimmer in her sister’s green eyes and smiling sideways.

“Aha…”

“And…” The Crown Princess sighed.

“And…” Her younger sister repeated.

Arisa stoped walking and took a deep breath, when they were face to face, Karina noticed the actual glow on the other princess’ eyes that spoke loudly with hope and excitement.

“We want to try to have a baby again.”

They had been trying to produce an heir for 300 hundred years now. And a century ago her sister had finally gotten pregnant, only to soon after have a miscarriage and lose the baby. They had stoped trying since then, recovering from the heartbreak.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, sis, but doesn’t your husband have to be, you know, here, to try for that baby?” Arisa laughed melodiously, and grabbed her sister’s arm again to resume their walk.

“He’s been busy finding Emeraya, have you heard of her?”

Emeraya was a very, very ancient healer who dedicated her life to helping fae females to have babies, since for them it was more easy to live 500 years than to have a baby in that time.

“Oh, Ari,” Karina hugged her sister tightly, while her heart murmured a prayer to the Mother and Cauldron to give her sister what she so much deserved. “You’ll have a family soon, I know it.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” Karina smiled, leaving her sister’s embrace to look her in the eyes.

“We want to leave in three days time. But mother wanted me to go to Prythian to reunite with the High Lord of the Night Court. Apparently he requested an audience, maybe to try and make peace with our mother.”

“What a fool,” Karina snorted a laugh.

Of course she knew Rhysand. And some other High Lords of Prythian. But, as Rhysand was her mother’s least favorite of all seven of them, Karina had made him her favorite.

“You want me to go in your place?” She sighed, lifting a knowing eyebrow.

“Please?”

Rhysand was fun to be with, other members of his Court? Not so much. That male named Kier was one of those males you couldn’t help but want to throw up just thinking about him. And that Shadowsinger? Mother above, what a total waste of that much beauty.

“Ok. I’ll go,” she smiled tightly, but her wariness wore off when she saw Arisa’s bright smile.

“Thank you so much, Karina,” the oldest hugged her little sister, and Karina swallowed her sigh.

“Oh don’t think this is free, sis, this is going to cost you. Big time. I expect retribution after all this, in pretty dresses and shoes,” Arisa laughed, and took Karina’s hand to guide them both back to the palace.

105 notes · View notes

bruciemilf · 2 years

Text

I so desperately crave a fic where Bruce forgets all about an interview he scheduled with Clark, specifically, with our boys in this portrayal

He's swallowed up by that ginormous red hoodie Jason always forgets at the manor. It's got a soft undertone of beer and pizza clinging to it, and knowing Jay, the chances of that changing are close to none.

It's Bruce's favourite thing to wear.

Below that, Dick's sweatpants have to be snaked tight around his waist. He's wearing Tim's ridiculously soft socks, Batman themed as well, a flock of bats starting from his calf and gathering into his famous cowl on top of his foot.

On his hands, he's sporting two bracelets that Damian and Cassandra asked him to help craft. He accepted, of course, because his little Damian looked astray, eyebrows down and eyes worried, scared of rejection.

They were both terrible at it. Cassandra had a great time. And Bruce's dark green and sunshine gold bracelets pleased Damian greatly.

But he had no time to shower that morning; His ribs were moaning still, every step he took feeling like Bane's brutal, sledgehammer punches, hitting him right in the gut.

And Dick stole all his conditioner, and Steph smuggled his skincare products, exfoliants, bath salts, and everything she could get her grabby little hands on, and gone she was. Tiny fingers, big damage.

But that was fine; He didn't expect anyone today. He'll just scarf some blueberries and yoghurt and gulp down four espressos before burying his nose in Jim's earliest case.

That's what he thought

Before modern day Adonis suddenly emerged I his living room.

This man, he's...He's... he's beauty. That's all Bruce can muster in his flustered mind, brain itself blushing, cheeks hot and soaring with a fierce flush. Which was impossible to miss with his paleness. God.

There you are! Got me scared for a moment there," oh no. He makes deep voices sound cute. Those pearly whites had no mercy on Bruce, neither did that boyish grin, glowing silver and warm. " Thought I'd fall through a secret door and straight into a shark tank. "

Say something. Say something funny, come on, he's joking with you.

" ... Why are you In my house?"

Fuck.

"This man, - Clark, Bruce knows who he is. Out of all the bad things that had to happen today, being surprised by his favorite journalist just had to be one of them, - blinks, some grin cut down, and Bruce curses in his mind.

"Um. Your father let me in. Did you forget,-"

" I forgot you were coming. I, uh. I," he stuttered; He hasn't stuttered since he was 16, and had to pitch that board meeting to a mile long table of greedy, silver artefacts in suits who wanted to snatch his company. " I, - Coffee. You want...Coffee?"

"...Sure. I'd love some."

Was it just Bruce, or did this report carry a note of amusement in those words? Bruce scrambled for the first cupboard he could see, " NO!"

Clark jumped on his feet, making a dash for him behind the kitchen island. Bruce almost choked, because up close, he could notice the buttons and seams on that baby blue plaid shirt fight for their lives. " What's wrong?!"

" We're out of coffee," he hissed, muttering a ' damn it, Tim, I TOLD you to replace it' but no matter. He had to find Clark something else. " Uh... Water? Juice? Do you like orange juice?"

He could see it, the corners of Clark's lips tugging upwards, " Orange juice is my favourite drink. But it's fine, really. I'm here to unbury your deepest darkest secrets, not have lunch," he smiled, then, most likely noticing Bruce simply froze in place, he added, " That was a joke!"

Bruce forced a laugh, " Of course. Why would I have something to hide? I have nothing to hide," Very well, that sounded entirely too suspicious. " I mean, not anything illegal. Just... Secrets. The normal amount."

Clark nodded, endlessly patient, this saint of a man, " I've had my share of that. Don't worry, Mr. Wayne."

" Oh, just Bruce. That's my name."

The taller man smiled, " I'm just going to ask you about your involvement in renovating Arkham and maybe Mr. Grayson's podcast, but that's all. I won't try to fish for information. I don't believe in peer pressure and bullying."

" I know," his mouth spoke without him, " I, uh, I know you. Your journalism, I mean! My youngest enjoys your online interviews. We watch you together. I'm a fan of your writing, thought. It's magnificent. "

Even if Clark blushed to be polite and thanked him quietly, Bruce wanted to dive off a building without a grappling hook.

" Uh... Bruce? You're murdering your orange."

True enough. The fruit was entirely empty in his clenched fist, spilling over his hand and pooling on the floor. Bruce cursed. Slamming the sad, deflated remaining on the counter, he simply said, " I'll cut this now."

" Okay." Nodded Clark, clear, perfect blue eyes fixed on Bruce and his hands. Bruce only prays his fingers won't tremble like his heart is.

He stabs the orange.

It squirts all over his hoodie, and Bruce offers no reaction. It's almost worth it, this pit of mortification slowly, tortuously devouring his body, to see Clark's impressive frame shake with laughter behind his giant hands, goofy glasses crooked on his nose.

" I'm sorry," he sounds as dead as he feels. " The orange has retaliated." That did it; Clark was full on laughing now. Humiliation burned like liquid fire over Bruce's face.

If Dick were here, or Alfred, he'd hide his face into their chests like a shameful child. But neither are there, so all he can do is slowly place the knife on top of marble, and stand there like a statue.

Coming off his high, Clark watches him closely, a speckle of mirth shining on blue. " You know, you're nothing like I thought you'd be. As much as I enjoy this, you should change."

" I'll try. I don't want to be like this, either."

Clark grinned. " I meant your clothes, Bruce."

" ... Yes. I should. I have a large collection of clean clothes. Because I do my laundry regularly. I know how to do laundry."

Why are you still talking?

Then, gone was that angelic, fond grin from Clark's Greek statue of a face. He smiled hotly, almost...Sultry? At Bruce now. Something saucy. Sweat was sticking to his skin. " Do you want me to pick something for you?"

"... Please?" He squeaked.

Twin steps went inside his bedroom, and they didn't come out for a long time.

#batman #battinson #superman #clark kent #superbat #bruce x clark #soft bruce wayne #good dad bruce wayne #dc comics #dcu #jason todd #fluff #writing #my writing #text

1K notes · View notes

bunnygirl678 · 2 months

Text

it's valentine's day, i'm sick so i didn't go bar hopping like i had planned on doing, this is my first single valentine's day in like 7 years and tbh i was looking forward to drinking like i was 22 again, lmao, so in turn y'all are gonna get a bull tauros riding au, little back story, my father and most of my male relatives were bull riders in their younger years so i grew up around the culture and i'm from Texas (fun fact I have the Texas flag above my bed like i'm a frat boy lmao) Also this is probably more along the lines of gameverse?

-Our tauros riders are red and green

-they're competitive with each other, they've been rivals since their mutton wooloo bustin days, they've both got their fair share of buckles, red is the current world champ

-they have a little secret though, they're mutually in love with each other but neither will admit

-red doesn't speak to most people, won't do interviews, he'll talk to Green though, Green on the other end will take any sponsorship he can get, is constantly doing interviews, loves the attention

-then some new comers pop up on the scene, we've got the mysterious redheaded cowboy with a chip on his shoulder named Silver, and he's itching to take the title from Red

-who is Silver? well turns out he's the son of Giovanni, the previous champion who came out of retirement to go up against red,

-but Giovanni got hurt, bad, like he almost died, Silver blames Red for what happened to his father, but Silver looks nothing like his father and doesn't use his name so no one knows who he is, but he wants revenge

-Silver refuses to make friends with anyone, even though Green keeps reaching out, desperately trying

-then there's Gold, a buckle bunnelby (buckle bunny is a term for "fake" country girls who hang around rodeos trying to date the cowboys) who has a thing for redheads

-Gold takes interest in Silver, who is up and coming winning a bunch, there's more to Gold than meets the eye, Silver ends up letting Gold hang around him a lot and falls for the cutie the more he gets to know the real him

-Green too becomes close with Gold, but not in a romantic way (remember he's hopelessly in love with his rival), problem is Red doesn't know that

-Red gets jealous that Green and Gold hang around together he starts lashing out a bit towards Gold, now Silver already hates Red but watching Red be an ass to Gold pisses him off even more

-they're practicing together, Red is being a super asshole to Gold, and Gold is done. He gets up on a bull before Silver/Green can stop him,

-Guess what, Gold was an up and coming rider before he suddenly quit, after proving himself he jumps off leaving everyone flabbergasted and just keeps walking,

-Silver ends up going after him, because he thought they were friends why would he never tell him, Gold admits crying that his mom passed from an extended illness and he couldn't bring himself to keep going, it had always been their thing, whereas with Silver it was the opposite, he had never been interested until his dad got hurt

-Silver convinces Gold to start riding again, suddenly he's not as interested in revenge but wants to see Gold succeed, late one night after a particularly grueling training Gold leans in and kisses Silver, Silver kisses back, they're together now <3

-Red pushes himself harder, Green announces that he's going to retire at the end of the season, Red is heart broken the best part of riding is competing against Green, and he really won't see Green anymore if he retires, like he knows it's the end of their friendship

-it's finally time for the big finals, red, green, silver, gold are the top contenders, Silver places 4th, he and his father share a nice moment, he's upset he didn't beat Red, but he found love awwww

-green places 3rd, he's happy, says he's looking forward to starting the next chapter of his life (maybe he gets a ranch idk), but there's a sadness in his eyes when he looks at red, regret for things never said or done

-it's down to red vs gold, red hates gold, he thinks green likes him, doesn't know about silver, ect ect

-gold wins 1st, he's the new champion, he points the sky and says 'look mama i did it!' very sweet and emotional, silver runs out kissing his boy, not only did gold do amazing and fulfilled his dream, he beat red effectively getting revenge in silver's eyes

-red is like wait???? gold is with silver???? then he's like oh shit green must be heartbroken, that was why he looked so sad, he goes to find green and tell him how sorry he was, and at first green thinks it's about him placing 3rd and he's kinda pissed about it, like it feels condescending

-but red is like you deserve better than gold anyway, and green is like wait what? you thought i liked gold?? no you big dummy i like you!

-thinking it's his last chance, green kisses red, who immediately kisses back

-leads to 'oh wait i thought this was one-sided'

-red who really cares more about green than his title announces his retirement, he and green settle down on a ranch growing old together

-gold rides a few more seasons then retires as well, he and silver breed tauros and live happily ever after

#namelessshipping #reguri #preciousmetalshipping #this is one of those aus that appeal to me and like maybe one other person

24 notes · View notes

minty-mumbles · 1 year

Note

Hey! I know your not continuing to write the Mermaid AU, but I was wondering if you had any additional headcanons that you would be willing to share.

Sure! Here's some character fun facts!

Wind:

The youngest of them all at 9/10 years old

He's an orangey-brown color right now, but when he's a juvenile, he'll turn a brighter orange. As an adult, he'll get light blue stripes, similar to a lionfish.

His original pod lost him when he was about 5/6. They were attacked by a larger pod that wanted their territory. They lost, and in the panic to flee, Wind got left behind. The invading pod wasn't going to kill him, because he was just a pup, so they dumped him at the edge of the territory.

Wild:

Based off deep sea creatures. He's a dark blue, with teal accents starting to coming in. He has large but delicate fins, sharp teeth, and bioluminescence

Despite his delicate fins, he's still the best fighter out of himself, Hyrule, and Wind, so he ended up in more than his fair share of fights in the past. A lot of his fins are shredded.

His species are typically solitary. Hyrule's is too. At first, the two of them were just friends that happened to live near each other. Then they found little Wind wandering around and they were like okay, we need to form a pod for the sake of this pup. The three of them wander, trying to stay out of other pods territory and find somewhere to settle.

Hyrule:

He's an octopus mer. He's a muted dark green color. As he's at the age where Mers become juveniles, his colors are starting to change. The green is starting to brighten, and the beginning of gold freckles are starting to cover him.

He has healing magic, which is rare and very valued by Mers. He has to be carefully to not any one know, or else he might end up forcibly adopted into someone's pod. This is what he thinks is happening when Legend finds him and invited him back to camp.

Because he and Wild are solitary species, they don't integrate into the larger pod well at first. They're stand offish, and disappear often. But they stay for WInd's sake

Time:

He's huge, as Mers don't stop growing as they age, and he's pretty old. He's mainly white, but he has a few blue and red stripes. He's covered in scars because of his age.

He has a mate, Malon. She is an actual deep sea Mer. She can't visit the surface for more than. few days, and he can't visit her for more than a few days, but they make it work.

Twilight:

He's a dark green with subtle black and brown markings.

He can survive in fresh water for a few days, so sometimes he swims into the nearby rivers and hunts there.

He wears a seal pelt around his shoulders, and had an orca tooth necklace.

The necklace is actually magic. He can use it to transform into an orca

Legend:

He and Ravio are based off the rabbit sea slugs. Legend is a baby pink color, while Ravio is a deeper purple. Yeah, the both of them have the little antenna things

He can't swim very fast, because, you know. Sea slug. So he has an enchanted tail ring that allows him to move faster if he has too. (Like his pegasus boots)

Warriors:

He's a royal blue color, with orange markings along the edge of his fins.

Second in command of the pod. When Time is off visiting his mate, Warriors in in charge

Four:

He's based off a beta fish. He's a Chimera. He absorbed his twin in the egg, so he's split down the middle. On one side he's green that fades to red on his fins, and on the other side he's blue which fades to purple.

He's the smallest in the pod by a wide margin. He's even smaller than Wind.

He bites

He's the most territorial Mer in the pod.

Sky:

He's based off those flying fish that can launch themselves out of the water. He's red with silver wings.

He's courting a Mer from the neighboring pod (Sun)

There's this huge grouper- like truly large, the size of Sky himself- that hangs out around their camp. Sky has practically adopted it, and has named it Crimson.

#linked universe #lu mermaid au #asks open anon on #lu wind #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu four #lu time #lu twilight #lu sky #lu legend #lu warriors

120 notes · View notes

humanpurposes · 2 months

Text

(Teaser) It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/n: I feel bad that it's been forever since this series had an update, and I'm just feeling silly today so I thought I'd share a lil something of what I've been working on (to hopefully motivate me to finish the chapter lmao).

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the ancient stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity.

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at his laptop and they check over some details for next week’s event.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planninging this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to every individual and family in Westeros who thinks they are even slightly important that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens.

There can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

His eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan in the main ballroom. Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease, and he has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it: a glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in the office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and grab some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move.

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again?

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

89 notes · View notes

foxydivaxx · 5 months

Text

Okay so more info on the Vinsmoke Sentai theme. It will be similar to Ohsama Sentai King Ohger. I am yet to come up with a Sentai team name for them but they will not call themselves that name till later.

So the five kingdoms that the Vinsmoke kids will later rule were once part of the Germa Empire. Judge stole those territories from Avalon and annexed them to his Kingdom.

Sora wants them back and the only way to get that is via her kids and herself fighting together. Sora herself has Ranger powers. So the other Vinsmoke kids are critically injured and Sanji is thankfully alive but still emotionally traumatised.

Like I mentioned in a previous post, Sora reaches out to Sanji after Avalon gets attacked by the Germa army and Judge, forcing the Strawhats to rush to her aid. Sora transforms for the first time that day. The other Vinsmoke kids awaken and together alongside Sanji transform for the first time together.

Their Ranger suits are different from the Raid Suits in the sense that they actually wear helmets whereas the raid suits show their faces but they all wear glasses plus their new Ranger abilities are their way of disowning the Vinsmoke ideology.

Just like the King Ohgers, they use swords to transform. Their henshin phrase is the same as used in that show: Ohgai Busou (Royal Arms)

Ranger colours:

Sora: White

Sanji: Red

Ichiji: Black

Reiju: Pink

Niji: Blue

Yonji: Green

Their motif is Animals because the island kingdoms are governed by animal beast spirits which are the zords they pilot into battle

Sora: Swan

Sanji: Lion

Ichiji: Wolf

Reiju: Falcon

Niji: Shark

Yonji: Bear

There is one extra sword and that one is given to Zoro once he and Sanji get married. Zoro’s animal is a Tiger which makes sense given his personality and the fact that he is Sanji’s Royal consort.

- Sanji wears the most revealing outfits of the bunch due to him now accepting and embracing his sexuality

- Of all the boys, Ichiji is the quiet one whilst Yonji is the loud one

- Niji and Sanji bicker a lot because Niji annoys him at times and Niji annoys Sanji out of love. He wants to get to know his little brother a lot better

-Sanji is the leader instead of Ichiji or Reiju though Ichiji is second in command and takes the lead when Sanji is not there

-Ichiji was the one who suggested that Sanji take over as the leader as a way of making it up to him for his past bullying and also because he trusts him

-Zoro's ranger colour in the future is silver

-Nami becomes the gold ranger later on and her animal is the cat

-Sora always smiles whenever she sees her kids together even though the boys tend to bicker a lot

-Judge fears Sanji the most because unlike before, Sanji now will not hesitate to kill him. Sanji terrifies everyone due to his temper and crazy antics

#vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke yonji #vinsmoke reiju #Vinsmoke Sora #Sanji #one piece #zosan #Zoro #roronoa zoro

21 notes · View notes

sunsolii · 4 months

Text

Napoleon's Marshals and their Birthstones Part 2

This is part 2 of my series where I list all 26 marshal's birthstones, I'll also be adding two non-marshals to the list ;). In this post I'll go over months May through August, the format will be the same as the last post. If you want to review the terms used in the post I'll put the link to the first part here .

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

Emerald (May)

Marshals- Davout, Kellermann, Massena, Perignon, and Poniatowski

Type: Mineral

Group: Beryl (Be₃Al₂(SiO₃)₆)

Color: Green or bluish-green

Cleavage: Indistinct to none

Fracture: Conchoidal

Mohs Scale: 7.5-8

Luster: Vitreous

Streak: White

Fun Fact: Emerald is one of the four cardinal (most valuable) gemstones, along with diamond, ruby, and sapphire. Its value is due to the limited amount of beryllium (an element in beryl minerals) found in one location on the surface of the Earth, making it rare to find. An even rarer type of emerald is a trapiche emerald, which has the shape of a wheel, with each piece of emerald separated by the inclusion of black shale; the shale becomes less present as time passes. Its green color is due to the presence of chromium or vanadium in its chemical composition. Traces of iron make the color turn into a bluish or yellowish tint.

Pearl (June)

Marshals- N/A (Honorable mention: Joséphine de Beauharnais)

Type: Mineral

Group: Carbonate (CaCo₃)

Color: White, pink, silver, cream, iridescent, blue, gold

Cleavage: None

Fracture: Uneven

Mohs Scale: 2.5-4.5

Luster: Pearly

Streak: White

Fun Facts: Pearls are made either naturally or synthetically. Natural pearls are formed inside the soft tissue of various mollusk species like oysters and mussels when an irritant such as sand gets inside the mollusk. As a defense mechanism, the mollusk covers the object with a substance called nacre, a combination of aragonite and conchiolin. These layers build up over time until they create a pearl. Man-made or cultured pearls are formed when a small piece of a mussel shell is inserted into the mollusk's tissue, causing the mollusk to secrete nacre onto the shell piece. Under a controlled environment, pearls form a perfectly shaped sphere, rather than forming in irregular shapes like organic pearls form.

Ruby (July)

Marshals- Moncey, and Marmont

Type: Mineral

Group: Oxide (Al₂O₃)

Color: Blood red, orange red, pink, or purple red

Cleavage: Indistinct

Fracture: Conchoidal or splintery

Mohs Scale: 9

Luster: Vitreous

Streak: White

Fun Fact: Rubies have the same chemical composition as sapphires, making them the same type of mineral (corundum), the only difference being that rubies are red due to chromium in their crystal lattice, while sapphires are blue, but it does come in different colors [1]. Rubies are not only known for their use in expensive jewelry but also for having major cultural significance ranging from ancient to modern times. In ancient Greece, rubies were thought to preserve mental and physical strength. Many Greek warriors wore talismans with rubies as protection when heading into battles [2].

Peridot (August)

Marshals- Bessières (Honorable mention: Napoleon Bonaparte)

Type: Mineral

Group: Silicate ((Mg,Fe)₂SiO₄)

Color: Green, yellowish-green, olive-green

Cleavage: Poor

Fracture: Conchoidal

Mohs Scale: 6.5-7

Luster: Vitreous or greasy

Streak: Colorless

Fun Fact: Peridot can be dissolved in hydrochloric acid, creating a gelatinous silica form. It was first discovered on the volcanic island of Zabargad in the Red Sea (located near Egypt) 3,500 years ago. The largest known peridot was also discovered in Egypt, weighing approximately 319 carats. The Egyptians were very fond of peridot and believed it to be the gemstone of the sun god Ra, giving it the name the 'evening emerald.' When determining the value of a peridot, its color plays an important role. Peridots with a pure green hue are more desirable than those with a yellowish tint (high iron levels are present). Peridot is also the gemstone with the most inclusions visibly present, which can affect its value, but it is often attributed to it being part of its natural structure.

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

Sources:

Emerald: King, H. M. (n.d.). Emerald. geology. https://geology.com/gemstones/emerald/

Pearl: MAT, M. (2023, August 26). Pearl: Mineral, gemstone: Properties, formation, occurrence. Geology Science. https://geologyscience.com/minerals/organic-minerals/pearl/?amp

Ruby: [1] King, H. M. (n.d.). Ruby and Sapphire. geology. https://geology.com/gemstones/ruby-and-sapphire/

[2] MAT, M. (2023, April 25). Ruby: Properties, formation, occurrence " Geology science. Geology Science. https://geologyscience.com/gemstone/ruby/?amp

Peridot: MAT, M. (2023, August 29). Peridot : Gemstone, properties, occurrence and uses " geology science. Geology Science. https://geologyscience.com/gemstone/peridot/?amp

#napoleonic era #napoleon bonaparte #french history #napoleon's marshals #rocks and minerals #gemstone #birthstone #napoleonic wars #funny how none of the marshals was born in June #pearl is quit fitting for Josephine xD #peridot too since bessi is known for wearing his green uniform #also pearls are technically not a mineral due to it being organically created #what is considered a mineral is the aragonite in its structure

15 notes · View notes

rocknroll7575 · 2 months

Note

Dude I got new characters for the dark time line and their from Desert Rangers of Lumière their like a 6 man squad and I have more lore about the Desert Rangers too.

1st we have:

Lucas Cooper, the squad leader

Rank: lieutenant

Aura color: Gold

Semblance: Dead Man's sight, when use time slows down and the world turns grey and seeing the weak spot of the target, this semblance can be use on groups( it's like dead eye in red dead redemption)

Bio: born in a ranching family in the sandy parts of Lumière he has a natural talent of shooting, at the age of 17 he joined the Desert Rangers, his leadership skills even rivals Jaune Arc's and also jaune's rival, his was assigned as leader of Team Bravo.

2nd we have:

Travis Walker, the Explosive expert

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: blue

semblance: not unlocked

Bio: as a son of owner of small mining company in a town called dusty creek he has this love for explosive and loud booms, at the age of 17 the chief of the desert rangers caught wind his skills and offered him a spot in the demolitions division, later on he was assigned to as their explosive expert.

3rd we have:

Trevor Walker, the Medic

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: light blue

Semblance: not unlocked

Bio: unlike his twin brother travis he likes to help the injured his more like the towns doctor's student helping and observing the doctor treat his patients, he joined on he's own after his brother joined, joined the medical department, later on he was assigned to Team Bravo as the medic.

4th we have

Wade Hayes, the Marksman

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: Silver

Semblance: Trailblazer's Touch, when used the user has control on the bullet and can see where it goes (like a predator missile from MW2 but it's a bullet).

Bio: As a of an hunter Wade was trained by his father at a very young age, he taught him how shoot a target 2 kilometres without a miss, at the age of 14 his father died by fight off bandits who raiding their homestead, he has no left he's mother died giving birth to him, his on his own, until the Desert Rangers took him in.

5th we have

Anna Johnson, the infiltrator

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: red

Semblance: ghostly tread, when used the user's footsteps are silents and turn them invisible.

Bio: as a singer at a canteen and a daughter of wealthy man a at a big town that is part of Lumière called Sunburnt Flats, she hates the life of fame and fortune, she and her may have disagreements here and there but she ran away and joined the Desert Rangers anyway, there she meet lucas she fell in love with him the moment she saw him but she keep it a secret maybe someday she can confess to him, but anyway let's talk about her love story in the future, her sneaking skills along with how good she is with a knife and a revolver she maybe the most badass woman in the Desert Rangers, she ask permission to Chief Taylor to be assigned to team Bravo, Chief Taylor was hesitant but he could see in girls eyes and he agreed, later on she was assigned to Team Bravo as their infiltrator.

And finally we have

Jenny Bell, the mechanic

Rank Private

Aura color: Green

Semblance : not unlocked

Bio: she maybe the youngest of the squad but she mod and fix your weapons and vehicles, her father was a mechanic at the HQ of desert rangers and taught her everything related to fixing vehicles, the weapon modding thing was all her.

Lore about the Desert Rangers:

Their HQ is fort used by mantle forces during the great war, their HQ contains a command center, a underground holding cell, a garage, armory, a shooting range, training course and a med bay.

They maybe a different group of Rangers but they still answer to council.

Their rivalry with Ranger of Lumière, their rivalry is so bad they each other names like tree fuckers, sand rats, but their just two sides of the same coin, the other is just cowboy and the other is brooding edge lord.

GOD DAMN IT MAN DON'T YOU KNOW YOUR GETTING MY CREATIVE JUCIES FLOWING!? I ALREADY HAVE ENOUG STORIES AND YOUR MAKING WANT TO MAKE THIS THING A WHOLE ASS STORY!!!

DAMN YOU AND YOUR AMAZING CREATIVETY! DAMNNNN YOOOOUUU!!!

#rwby #jaune arc #ranger jaune arc #rwby ranger au #rwby asks

12 notes · View notes

lya-dustin · 8 months

Text

All is Bliss

Chapter 50

Cw:postpartum depression, refrenced murder, mental illness and intrigues

Gif by @merlinaddams

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @alexandria-millie @watercolorskyy @sweethoneyblossom1 @ewanmitchellcrumbs

“I’ve never seen you hold him.” Aemond rewards her for this with a kiss on her shoulder.

“I held him when he was born.” The queen points out. It had taken her a few days to feel good enough to leave bed and see the babe.

Three weeks have passed, and she feels no interest in her own child.

What sort of mother did that make her?

There is no bond between her and the babe. Mother claimed she felt that instinctual and instant connection with all her children the moment they were put in her arms and yet…

Aemma cannot seem to make that connection that this is her son, and she must love him. Teora surmised it was due to the birth and that she’d only need to give it time.

And yet Aemond has no such problem and is in awe of the babe that has his nose, or so he says. Aemond who now steals away from court with the excuse of keeping her up to date on things just to see her and the babe.

One would say it was because blood called blood.

Aegon pays Aenys little mind, his arm isn’t strong enough to hold him and he’s never really cared about children to begin with. He came the morning after the birth, had the Septon bless them, gave her a necklace to match the crown he gave her on her nameday and gave Aenys his own dragon egg.

Aemma would have preferred the bronze and red one, but much like the pregnancy itself, she had no actual choice ---another factor that caused her to be so out of sorts.

Instead Aenys shares his cradle with a silver one shot through with iridescent gold to match the one Aemond gave Aegon before he sent him to his death.

A perfect mix between Silverwing and Sunfyre.

She wants to laugh as she remembers Otto arguing that Aegon was king because he had all the symbols.

All the symbols and the names were there to mark Aenys as Aegon’s and yet he does not even look like he was his, or even Aemond’s.

Aemma would have been afraid of the implications if she didn’t get to see those who called her mother a whore and her brothers bastards ardently defend why the baby has brown hair and possibly brown eyes.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.” It is a thank you for saving me, and while she doesn’t say it, he heard it all the same.

“As would I.” her secret husband admits as he helps her sit on the rocking chair Alys uses to soothe and care for Aenys as if she couldn’t do it herself.

This was news to her; all she knows is that the greens lost the Riverlands, and the blacks are closing in on the city.

The particulars are as unknown to her as the mysteries of maternal instinct.

“I’m sorry, it must have been difficult for you.” She said softly, wishing she could offer more than platitudes. She could offer him a chance to end the war through her, but she needs to be sure he won’t say no, or worse tells Aegon.

He loves his brother, even now that Aemond has been blamed for their failure in the riverlands. They would make up soon enough just as all siblings do, especially now that news has confirmed Daeron’s murder just before the second battle of Tumbleton.

Aegon wants a statue of his brother, like that of the Titan of Braavos and made in gold. As if such a feat were humanly possible.

“It was, but they don’t see it that way. To them I am a craven green boy who ran and let his men get butchered while Criston died honorably.” His anger hides his grief and fear well, just not from her.

“If you hadn’t come, I would be dead, and Daemon would be burning the city to ash.” She reminds him and voices the reason she cannot simply adore the baby in her arms as freely as he did. “Alys said she summoned you because your lovely mother had always intended to kill me once the babe is born.”

Aemma would have been murdered. It is something she had hoped had been just her being so out of it that she misheard it, but Alys had then fed her some fortifying broth and explained that Alicent had believed her to be the one behind Aegon’s assassination and intended to kill her.

I summoned Prince Aemond the moment I learned of her intentions, the witch had said and somehow the young queen believed her.

“She said the same to me and Aegon, mother will be sent to the motherhouse in Oldtown once we can spare the men to send her there.” Aemond agreed with her about her suspicions on Alys’ loyalties. “Mother cannot hurt you and so far, everyone believes she left court willingly. If Alys tries anything, she is to be handed over to the royal confessor and the Faith.”

What was the witch’s agenda? She had been remarkably close to Alicent and now she was casting her lot with Aemma. Very fishy, but then again, every rat is jumping off this sinking ship.

Jena has had many ladies and lords seeking to shower them in favors in hopes of surviving this imminent defeat. Many gifts to her and her allies, but not all of them are true and it’s a tricky thing to find which one is the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Aemma will have a lot to do once she returns to court next week after the High Septon purifies her and gives a thanksgiving mass for her and Aenys.

“That’s not all, isn’t it?” she asks, knowing he means to say something that scares him more than leaving again.

The war was as good as won, the city would be sieged and while Baratheon and the Reach were close, their enemies were closer.

Tyland Lannister names him Master of Ships while styling himself as Hand.

The meaning is not lost on those assembled. Ironrod hides his allegiance well, but it was clear to all the only green in this table where the two green eyes of the Lord Hand.

Queen Alicent has been removed from Court after her stunt and is no longer to attend the Small Council as an adviser.

There were rumors of madness, of her speaking to ghosts and claiming Aenys is a bastard.

To think the queen mother used to be the sullen little girl who cried to herself because Laenor and Rhaenyra could spend hours on their dragons leaving her to wait alone with Laena.

If she is mad, it would explain her attempt at murder.

Corlys hopes she is mad. It would invite a kinder fate for her. She’d be taken to a motherhouse they could trust, likely the one in Driftmark so Helaena and Aemond may visit her with their children, cared for and treated gently as Aemma was not raised to be vindictive and believes in kindness.

If she weren’t, he would not be surprised to find the queen being left for Syrax by Daemon and Teora.

Teora, who had never hated anyone and raised Aemma into the queen she is now, had demanded he do something about the queen mother.

Aemond and Aegon had taken action and by the end of the week, Alicent had been put under custody. There was a matter that had them arrest their own mother and have it made to look like her willingly going into seclusion and pray to the Seven for peace and a healthy life for the infant prince.

Ellyn Waters had been killed by her or so Mysaria had learned. A ritual the rivers woman did to heal Aegon from his injuries that were supposed to kill him.

The White Worm had learned a great many things, like how in the seventh hell did Lyonel Strong have a shadowbinding daughter with a witchwoman selling fortunes in the city.

The witch would have to die. Even if she was only acting on someone else’s command, such a power couldn’t be allowed to exist.

And the witch knows it too, Corlys can see it in her gaze as she tends to the babe and Aemma now that her mistress is in her gilded cage.

“Lord Borros has sent ravens; the Vulture King has been dealt with and his army marches this way with the men from the Reach under Lord Peake’s command.” Lannister tosses the letter onto the table as if daring them to doubt his word.

The Reach and the Stormlands still didn’t have enough men to push back the North, the Riverlands and the Vale.

There was only one way to end this war: depose Aegon and instate Aemma. Aemma had a son now, Aegon’s life was now fair game as was Aemond’s. If they stepped away peacefully, they may be spared.

“It will not be enough, my lords. We only have one dragon, even if Prince Aemond were to lead the charge, the war is lost.” Ironrod pretends to mull over the pros and cons of Lannister’s last stand before turning the offer down.

They have a way to make peace: Aemma. If they had Aegon abdicate in favor of his wife by his own will, it would all end in a better way.

But that won’t happen, not when Aegon refuses to accept defeat.

The only way to get this war to end without unnecessary bloodshed was to coup Aegon and place Aemma on the throne.

Hence why this meeting did not include Prince Aemond. Aemond would never kill his own brother, kinslaying was too grievous a sin and no matter what happens a brother is a brother.

Aegon must die for this war to end.

This time Corlys isn’t going to fuck it up.

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x ofc #all is bliss(in the court of aemma the great) fic #all is bliss fic #ocappreciationtag #hotd fanfic

24 notes · View notes