#leading the parade son | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

megamindsecretlair · 5 months

Text

The King and I, Part 1

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. This is more background than anything, so mentions of violence, violence against women, brief mentions of rape, torture, murder, slave trade, and suicidal ideation. Hopefully this will be 3 parts, will lead to smut! Ya heathens, I know what you here for LOL. And you all deserve forehead kisses.

Summary: Raised to be perfect, your father has had it with your disobedience. He marches you to the palace and throws you at the King's feet. You'd rather die than be another person's property. But the King surprises you in many ways.

Word Count: 3,533k

A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my brain and it definitely doesn't follow the canon in the movie. AH well, LOL. I love it and that's all that matters. Hopefully, my brain continues to cooperate. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion

Before you had a chance to be a little girl, you were coveted for your looks. How pretty you were. How nice your hair was. Paraded out in front of many odd, adult people who looked at you with strange things in their eyes. Things you were too young to understand.

As you got older, it only got worse. You were expected to sit there like a doll and let people talk over you or around you, as if you were no more than grass beneath their feet. Wind in their hair. Something always there and easily ignored.

So you made the decision to be seen. You gave opinions when they weren’t wanted. You stayed in other people’s business. You resisted and rebelled. It was nice while it lasted.

Your father made sure to curb you of such habits. But somehow, the punishments never took like they were supposed to. You continued to speak. To use the gifts the gods gave you. If they did not want you to speak, they should have taken your tongue.

At his end, your father gave up his pursuit of a wealthy match for you. “If you will not listen to me, I will give you to someone you have no choice but to obey!” Spittle flew from your father’s mouth.

As you were marched to the palace, that was the one thing you focused on. Your father was a proud man. Perhaps you had gone a step too far if he was letting spit fly from his mouth with abandon. This was the least of your concern, true, but being cast off on the newly appointed King Ghezo was too big to face head on.

People in the village watched as you were marched there, your father’s grip on your arm near bruising. His thick fingers were wrapped around your upper arm. He set a brutal pace and walked forward whether you were able to keep up or not. You stared at the people. You made them look at you.

You didn’t expect them to do anything to help you. No one ever lifted a finger to help little girls. You were many years an adult by now, but to everyone, you were still so young. Young in the ways of the world. But growing up, weren’t you taught the ways of the world?

The powerful were in charge with no one to challenge them otherwise. While everyone else was sheep, forced to do their bidding.

Your feet tripped over rocks in the dirt road. Your father continued marching. The palace gates were not far now. Dread started to inch its way to your heart. You had never seen the King, but you heard how your parents whispered about him. How he was both similar and different from his father and brother.

His father had been a cruel man, living in ways that your people hadn’t lived before. Surely, his son would be no different. When you learned that you were going to be given to the new king, you pictured how ugly he must be. How cruel.

Your father was handing you over like a piece of meat. Handing his daughter over as if he had no hand in birthing you, raising you, guiding, and protecting you. Now you were nothing to him. You looked at him as he jostled you down the street. His eyes were set forward, a frown on his face.

Did he not feel anything at all? All these years you had been in his care and there wasn’t an ounce of feeling in him.

“Did you ever love me?” You asked. You were out of breath and it was said softly. Perhaps he didn’t hear you. You hoped. You didn’t really want to hear his answer. Hear that despite everything else, he did not share that love for you as you did for him all these years.

“You are an insolent child. I will make more of you. I will instill in them obedience where you had none,” he spat.

You refused to cry. You had an idea that he didn’t truly love you. Sometimes he’d look at you with such…hate. As if you were a stubborn stain he could not remove. You thought it was because of your looks. Because it was all anyone could talk about. But even when it was just you and your mother, he would still look at you as if he could cast you out with a single look.

At the palace gates, the guards halted your father. The red doors were large, stretching high above you. Anyone who went in, never came back out. You heard whispered words about why the King would need so many women. There was talk of him eating flesh. If he sold it, was there a big stretch to eating it?

You’d die before you got eaten. As your father argued with the guards, telling how he had a disobedient child that the King could do whatever he wanted with, you made the second biggest decision of your life. You will die before harm befell you. In whatever form that was.

If the King forced himself on you, you’d kill him and take yourself with him. If he tried to put you in a stew, you’d make him watch as you bled all over his fancy robes. The guards finally opened the gates enough for you to peek through.

Women were engaged in combat. Your mouth dropped open at how fierce they looked. You were not allowed to look upon the Agojie when they returned from their battles beyond the walls of the kingdom. But now you dared not to look away.

Your father pushed you forward. One of the guards caught you and you turned your head to your father. This was the most satisfied you had ever seen him. He hoped that the King did something awful to you. He was counting on it.

You straightened up behind the walls of the palace. You looked your father in the eyes and you smiled. You spat on the ground at his feet, that smile still on your face. His smile faltered, rage contorting his features. You turned your back on him and walked into the lion’s lair.

The guards handed you off one by one until a young guard escorted you to the front of the palace. In the training yard, men and women walked around with heads held high. It had never been your intention to become Agojie, but perhaps the mad King will let you once he found out how unsuitable for a wife you were.

The thought of killing anyone made you ill, but it would be better than to be bound to someone who could have you killed with one word.

The guard took you to the door that led to the inner palace. An Agojie met you there, a tall woman with beautiful features and sharp nails. She looked you up and down and conversed with the guard. You didn’t pay attention. You were marching to your death, what did the particulars matter?

The woman took possession of you, leading you into the inner palace where it was women only. Everywhere you looked, there were Dahomey women walking freely. They laughed! They trained, they ran, and hugged each other without abandon. There were a few women from other tribes there, but…this sight robbed you of clear thought.

“You will catch flies if you leave your mouth open like that,” the Agojie said.

The Agojie stalked forward, a hand on the hilt of her weapon. You briefly wondered how you could steal one unnoticed. You searched around you. There were weapons everywhere but there were so many Agojie, you doubted you’d be able to capture one.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Nanisca,” the warrior said. “You’d do well to listen to whatever the King wants.”

You didn’t need to be reminded of the King’s cruelty. It was all your father taunted you with for days as he made his decision to hand you over. You followed Nanisca to the palace proper. There, a man dressed in bright purple robes greeted you. He was bald with lots of jewelry hanging from his nose, ears, and around his neck. He looked you up and down and then rolled his eyes towards Nanisca.

“I suppose we will have this to look forward to from now on,” he said.

“As long as our King breathes air,” Nanisca said. She left you there with the man.

“Come,” he said. You followed him, though dread made your steps wooden and your limbs frozen. You were too deep to escape now. But escape to where? Outside the kingdom, you ran the risk of slavers. Rapists. Murderous thugs who would know where you came from and kill you just for being born in the wrong tribe.

The palace was nice, almost peaceful. There was the clank of weapons outside. Grunts and sounds from the Agojie as they practiced. The palace was big but also felt empty. As if there weren’t a lot of people there.

The King must be fat then. Perhaps he ate all the servants and would-be brides. The bald man led you through to a chamber with many chairs. On a raised dais, there was a large throne and a smaller one beside.

“Wait here,” the man said. He twirled and disappeared down the hall. You took a step forward, looking at the displayed riches and art work. If a king was cruel, did he know anything about art? Or beauty?

“Is this necessary?” You heard mumbling and turned towards the door, ready to face the King head on. To see what kind of monster your parents have subjected you to.

A young man walked in, with thick curled hair and light facial hair. He wore robes of gold, his robe split open revealing a well defined chest. He stood in the doorway and gazed at you as you did him.

He certainly didn’t look monstrous. You knew that evil things often came in the prettiest packages, but he was beautiful. Strong. Solid.

He was still your new jailor, you mustn’t forget. So you stood there and looked him in the eye. You were not a victim and you will not be treated as such.

“What is your name?” He asked. He pressed into the room further, looking you up and down with desire in his eyes. Your parents taught you well. How to spot it in others.

You told him your name and he repeated it. As if to savor it around his tongue. He walked closer until he was within reach. Up close, he was even more handsome. You had to fight yourself from getting distracted by his looks. He was still cruel. You remembered all the horrible stories about his brother. He couldn’t be any different.

“So your father has given you away to me.”

It wasn’t a question, but you answered anyway. “He has, my King,” you said.

“Do you wish to be given away?” He asked.

You gasped and looked at him. You looked to the bald man for help but he was turned away from the two of you. You looked back towards King Ghezo. It was the first time anyone had asked what you wished. For it to come from a king who should not care what you wanted…you weren’t sure what to do with the information.

“N-No,” you said.

King Ghezo nodded. “I wish I could make it easier for you. But you are too beautiful to be Agojie and if I turn you from this palace, you will have nowhere to go.” He reached for your hand and you snatched it from him. He smiled patiently as he held out his hand to you.

He was only pretending to be nice. A stupid, hopeful part of you had thought he wasn’t like the stories. He was worse. Still, he was correct. If he turned you away, you had nowhere to go. Once you had been here, everyone would assume the King used you and not deemed you worthy. Cast you out like a whore. You would be forced to sell your body.

You took his hand. He gripped it lightly and smiled. He kissed the back of your hand. “Welcome, my Queen,” he said.

The next few days were a blur. King Ghezo’s first wife saw to your preparation for the wedding. The eunuch from earlier saw to your lessons, what was expected of you. No different than what your father had wanted from you. To be on your best behavior and only speak when spoken to.

You hadn’t seen the King since then, but you caught glimpses every now and then. You were given your own quarters and servant, someone to tend to your needs. It was odd to have someone help bathe you, but the King preferred cleanliness to all else. He was vain on top of a liar.

The feast arrived in no time and you were painted up like a doll. At the wedding, you stood there as expected. If you had smiled any harder, it would have split your face in two. You had stood there like a goat on the pasture, ready to be bought and chopped up. King Ghezo studied you, encircled you, and found you acceptable. You had been tense, near trembling. You hated every second of it.

But now you are married. You sat beside King Ghezo at the high table, while he joked and laughed with his advisors. His other wife sat on your side, quiet and dull. You pitied her. The fight had left her long ago. You were still young. There was still time for you. While everyone smiled and laughed and enjoyed the feast, you hid a knife up your sleeve. It wasn’t that sharp, but it’d do the trick when the King tried to climb in your bed tonight.

You smiled in his face and feigned an innocent routine. You waited for the casual cruelty. When he would hiss for you to shut up, eat more, eat less, sit up straight. It never came. He only gave you brief glances, each always polite. A smile on those plump lips. You couldn’t shake your resolve though. Tonight, you’d be free. Whether free in death or free in life was entirely up to him.

That night, you lay in your bed. There was a door there that led to a small balcony overlooking the rest of the kingdom. It was mostly the trees in the forest, but they were tall and mighty and more than the view you got back home. You did not spare your father a thought, but you thought of your mother. It had not been her choice to marry such a cruel man.

It had not been your choice to marry a cruel man either. However, you felt as if you had a child, you would have moved the heavens and the earth to protect it. To not let what happened to you, happen to your own daughter. You supposed that dream was gone now. You’d either die tonight and never have a kid, or face the wrath of the kingdom and bear one without your permission. Somehow death seemed kinder.

You did not want to die. But how could you live within these walls? With that monster? Admittedly, you did not hear any screams late in the night. His first wife seemed unbothered. Untouched. She had borne him his first son, so perhaps he left her alone. And perhaps goats flew over the moon.

Men were only interested in one thing from a woman. And it was not her brain.

A soft knock tore you from your musings. You tensed up, sliding your hand beneath your pillow to wrap around the handle of the knife. Maybe if you pretended to be sleep, he’d come back another night.

The door pushed open, soft feet padded inside, and the door closed again. You lay on your side, turned towards the open balcony. If you screamed, would no one come to your aid?

“Are you awake?” King Ghezo’s soft voice reached you. You didn’t answer. Your breaths were stalled in your chest. Your hand cramped from holding the knife too hard.

The King poked at your shoulder before making you roll over. “I know you are not…”

You sat up and had the knife at his throat in one fell swoop. The King’s eyes widened, but he looked at you, not the knife.

“Will you kill me, my Queen?” He asked.

You pressed the knife into his skin, hard enough to know you meant business but careful not to break the skin. You were already committing treason, but somehow, it was important not to mar the king.

He stared at you. Those deep brown eyes set in such a handsome face. You looked for the cruel man you heard about. Where was he? You could harm a cruel man. They deserved it tenfold. Why wasn’t he making this easy on you?

“I don’t want to,” you finally admitted. “I have to.”

“Why?”

What did he mean, why? “Aren’t you angry?”

“Angry at a scared woman who has no one on her side? No,” he said. He was so calm, so patient. This was at odds with everything you built up about him in your head.

“Don’t pity me,” you said. You pushed the knife in deeper.

He leaned away and held his hands up. “I do not pity you. I will not pretend to know your life. But I can promise that you’re safe here,” he said.

You scoffed. “I’m not safe anywhere,” you said. You pressed your lips together. That hadn’t been what you meant to say. You meant to throw it back on him, that he could not promise safety when he dealt in the slave trade. When he looked at his people and only saw money from white devils.

His eyes softened and he slowly smiled. “No man intact can enter this palace. Beyond that, we are protected by the fiercest warriors in the world. Beyond them, there is a first legion still to defend this palace from enemies. Here in the heart of it, you are the safest you’ve ever been.”

“But who will keep me safe from you?”

King Ghezo leaned forward, making you choose between cutting him or retreating. You eased up on the pressure. “You can do a finer job protecting yourself than most women can,” he said.

You stared at him. Your arm began to shake from holding the knife for so long. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t kill him. You were weak and would never be accepted as an Agojie. You would never fare well beyond these walls.

You dropped the knife on the bed and held out your wrists. “I’m ready for my punishment, my King,” you said.

King Ghezo let out a long breath. You noticed now that he wore a deep, royal purple that highlighted his rich, dark skin. He wore minimal jewelry. He was just that magnificent on his own. Especially when the candle light flickered across his features.

“Punishment?”

“I’ve threatened the King. I am ready for whatever punishment you hand out,” you said.

The King ignored the knife on the bed between you. It was within his right to take it and kill you. Or take it as evidence of your deceit. He could brand it for all to see as he threw you out of the palace.

He did none of those things. He reached out his hand slowly and enclosed yours in his. You stared at your hands in comparison to his. He watched you as he brought your hands to his lips and placed a small kiss there.

“Plot how next you’ll kill me. If I have not convinced you of my intentions, of my character by then, you may carry through,” he said.

“What? No, no!” You said. You pulled your hands back but he held on. He pulled you closer until your hands were pressed against his warm, smooth chest.

“Keep the knife, my Queen. This will be interesting between us,” he said.

This was surely a trap. A way for him to play and toy with you while he tightened the noose about your neck. Or gathered wood to burn you alive. Or for the Agojie to sharpen their swords to take your head with it.

“My King…”

“One day, I wish for you to call me your love,” he said. “But I will earn it or die trying.” A cocky grin spread across his face. It transformed him from a king to a man. A man who you were married to, sitting on your bed, with intentions involving you.

He placed one more kiss on your hands and then retreated from the room. He never gave you his back, but he did smile and bow. Then he was gone from your room. A chill from outside caressed your bare skin and you shivered.

Was the king truly mad? Or were you? And why did he make you want to find out which?

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret King Ghezo Files #Ghezo x Black!reader #Ghezo x Black reader #Ghezo x Fem!reader #Ghezo x Fem reader #Ghezo x virigin reader #x Black reader #The Woman King fanfic #The Woman King fan fic #The Woman King fanfiction #The Woman King fan fiction #The Woman King #King Ghezo x Black!reader #King Ghezo #King Ghezo fanfic #King Ghezo fan fic #black writers #Black writers on tumblr

367 notes · View notes

vbecker10 · 16 days

Text

Loki's Silent Sentry (Part 2)

Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 (Part 6 in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You are not just a soldier in Asgard's Royal Army, you are Lieutenant Y/L/N, Prince Loki's personal guard, his sentry and you are not supposed to fall in love with him. If you followed your training properly, you should never have even spoken to him. As a sentry, you are expected to remain silent and invisible as you shadow your appointed member of the royal family or member of the court protectively throughout their daily tasks.

Rumors (that happen to be true) begin to circulate through the palace that you serve the younger prince of Asgard both outside and inside his chambers. There is little you can do once word of your off duty activities spread through every maid, cook, gardener and seamstress in the palace. You soon find even the soldiers in your own company are now questioning how exactly you had come to earn your seemingly quick rise to lieutenant.

As the annual Winter Solstice Ball approaches, you come to the heartbreaking realization that your relationship with Loki must come to an end if you are both to fulfill your duties.

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Thor being an absolute ass, Odin being a terrible father (slut shaming?)

A/N: I'm dedicating the second part of this to my absolutely amazing friend @siconetribal! I wanted to get this out for your birthday but I just missed it, sorry! Also, I hope you like the part that you inspired (I have no doubt you'll be able to figure out what it is). Love you! 💚💚💚

And... I know this was only two parts but I couldn't help myself and now it is three lol, not sorry

"Have you completely lost your mind!?" the king hollers from the throne. You keep your eyes down, too fearful to look up even if your training didn't require you to kneel when in Odin's presence. You know he isn't speaking to you, not yet at least. For now, his attention seems fixed on his youngest son.

"The whole of the Royal Council, the entirety of the Advisory Council and all of our foreign diplomats were in attendance tonight! Not to mention all of their families. Do you have the slightest idea of the damage you have caused?" he questions Loki.

"What could be the harm in me sharing a dance with-" Loki begins but is quickly cut off.

"A dance? You think this is about you and this..." he gestures to you as if he is searching for the least offensive word he can find, "soldier dancing?" he says with a joyless laugh.

Loki doesn't respond and in that instant you both know what it is that truly has angered the king. It wasn't that the prince used his illusions to create a gown for you or that he danced with you at the center of the ball. Loki had kissed you where all of Asgard's most important citizens could see. He had all but announced to the kingdom that you were his and that would not be allowed.

"It is of no concern to me who you bring to your chambers at night but you must learn that there is no place for this at court," he lectures. He turns towards his oldest son who is standing at the base of the stairs leading to the throne. "That goes for you as well. Every servant in this palace knows you are working your way through the kitchen staff," he says to Thor. "I do not need or want to know what either of you do in your chambers and the people of Asgard should be just as unaware."

You don't disagree with that last part, you don't think it is anyone else's business that you are with Loki but you know now isn't the time to speak up.

He continues, turning his focus back to Loki who is still standing just a few inches from you. "You can not parade your..." again he pauses as if too angry to find the right words to describe you. "Her," he changes his mind and motions to you as if Loki could possibly be unsure who he was referring to. "You can not parade her in front of the whole of Asgard. If you want to keep her as a toy for when you are bored, so be it but this type of behavior in public will not be tolerated especially when you are to be looking for a suitable wife," he says, his anger palpable.

You grind your teeth, focusing on the tiles below you to keep from saying something that could lead to your execution.

"I have found a suitable wife," Loki fires back at his father and you lift your head quickly in shock. "Father, Y/N is-"

Odin cuts his words off with a furious wave of his hand as he rises from the throne. "This soldier is not fit to marry a prince," he declares. "And you will refer to her by her rank while you are in my presence," he reminds Loki of proper protocol.

You take a step backwards as the king begins to walk down the steps of the throne. You lower your eyes again and try to keep from trembling as you feel him come closer.

"This will end now," Odin orders and just as Loki opens his mouth in protest he adds, "Or I will transfer your little toy to the an outpost at the furthest edge of the nine realms."

"You will do no such thing," a calm but stern voice says from behind you.

"And what is your solution?" Odin asks Frigga as she walks into the throne room. "Let them continue this.... this..." he stutters in anger.

"Relationship, is the word I think you are looking for my dear husband," she says as she stands between her youngest son and the king.

"Mother, please-" Loki again tries to make his voice heard but Odin's glare stops his words from forming.

"I think I have a solution to our problem," the queen says and you lift your head slightly. She looks at you and flashes the faintest smile, it eases you just for a moment but then her smile fades and so does your hope. You hold your breath as you wait to hear your punishment for loving Loki too publicly as you know they can not punish him.

"I am in need of a new sentry," she says and your heart begins to beat faster. "Lieutenant Y/L/N will be appointed to me starting tomorrow morning. The lieutenant comes from a long line of sentries. Her mother was my sentry many years ago and her grandfather guarded my father when I was a young girl at court. The Y/L/N family has protected and served Asgard for centuries," she informs Odin of your families long and decorated history. If you weren't so terrified, you would be filled with pride that the queen recognizes the years upon years of service your family has given to the kingdom.

"We will not banish one of Asgard's most loyal soldiers because you do not like how your son behaved at the ball. I will speak to him privately about his behavior and make it clear that this is not to happen again," she gives Loki a look that sends a chill down your spine. You know how much the prince loves and respects his mother and there are few feelings worse than knowing you've disappointed someone who believes in you.

Odin remains silent and you know that means the queen has successfully overruled the king. "You are dismissed for the night Lieutenant Y/L/N," she tells you and you stand up at attention. "You will meet me at my chambers at dawn," she orders.

You nod in acknowledgment and bow to each of the royals. The king first as is customary, then the queen who offers you another small smile, the older prince who seems to have already forgotten who you are and finally Loki who looks as if his heart is breaking. You force your features to remain emotionless as you turn to leave the throne room on unsteady legs.

Neither of the two guards standing at the tall double doors make eye contact with you as they move to swing them open. You take a deep breath once you are in the hall and the doors slam shut. You know you should feel relief that you were not sentenced to an eternity in the dungeon or banished to a horrid place like Migard but you find it is still hard to walk. Only days ago you had put in a transfer request in the hopes of being sent away from Loki and now it was being granted by the queen herself. You would no longer be Loki's sentry, or his lover and there was nothing either of you could do.

You arrive at dawn and greet the two sentries guarding the king and queen's chambers. They nod in return, the shorter one even smiles a little in welcome. It has been a month since the night of the ball and it seems the rumors of Loki's favoritism for you vanished as soon as you were no longer in his service. A few of your fellow soldiers have slowly begun to speak to you again but you don't find any of them nearly as interesting to talk to as Loki.

You groan internally, it is somehow Monday again already. A day filled with the queen's seemingly endless string of long, drawn out meetings. Much like the younger prince, the queen takes the majority of her meetings in her private office, requiring all council members or other officials to come to her if the wished to have a moment of her time. This unfortunately meant you were unlikely to run into Loki unless they had meetings scheduled together which was seldom the case.

A few minutes after your arrival, the heavy wooden door swings open and the queen steps out of her chambers. "Good morning Lieutenant Y/L/N," she greets you kindly as always.

"Good morning your highness," you respond with a slight bow. You take a deep breath as you follow her down the hall knowing those will be the last words you speak until she dismisses you at the end of the day.

Monday may be your least favorite day of the week but Sunday is by far your favorite and thankfully it is here again. Meetings are a rare occurrence on a Sunday and the queen spends much of her day in the library or her chambers. You don't mind, the halls of the palace are mostly empty so you are able to relax ever so slightly but it is after dinner that you look forward to the most.

You follow her out of the palace, your boots crunching over the newly fallen snow on the path leading to the garden. Queen Frigga wraps her fur shawl tighter around herself but you keep your head up even as an icy breeze sweeps through. You don't want to miss seeing Loki even for a moment. He exits the palace from a set of doors several yards south from the ones you have come from and your body fills with warmth.

He smiles first at his mother then his eyes move past her, to you. Your lips curve into a smile ever so slightly, not enough for his sentry to notice.

"Hello mother," he greets the queen with a hug.

"Loki," she smiles back. "Shall we?" He holds his arm out for her to take and leads her through the wrought iron gates at the entrance to the garden. You and Loki's sentry, a man named Sergeant Tones, stand on either side of the gates at attention.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the chilly air and wonder how Loki never seems to mind this type of weather. You preferred winter or fall over the heat of the summer, mostly because you were always required to wear full armor but Loki wasn't even wearing gloves today. The thought makes you shiver. You close your eyes for a brief moment and try to picture a warm, roaring fire but your mind will only conjure images of the large stone fireplace in Loki's office.

You sigh quietly as your mind begins to wander, thinking of all the times you've spent with him in his office talking about everything and nothing. A smile crosses your lips as you vividly remember the first time the prince spoke to you.

You scan the hallway leading away from the prince's office, not a person in sight. The only sound you can hear is the pounding of rain and wind against the stone walls of the palace. Occasionally a streak of lightning would light up the window followed by the deafening sound of thunder. You try the trick your mother taught you when you were little to judge the storms distance. If your counting was correct, the storm was going to be directly overhead any second now.

The door next to you opens suddenly and you stand at attention, ready to follow the prince but he doesn't leave his office. You look over your shoulder, confused to see him just standing next to you. He isn't looking at you though, his eyes wander to the window and you wonder what he is thinking.

"I would like to speak with you for a moment," the prince finally says to your utter shock. You can do little more than nod as you follow him into his office. "Close the door," he orders as he walks over to his desk.

You do as your told but you are not sure what else to do. You had never been in his office or spoken to him before. The last three people you guarded never seemed interested in getting to know you and that was perfectly fine with you. Your training required you to be silent and you had grown used to it.

He waves for you to come closer as he takes a seat behind his desk. You stand at attention across from him and he sighs. "Sit," he says and you do. He looks at you curiously as you sit uncomfortably in the leather chair. Your armor was not made be to relaxed in.

After a moment of awkwardly staring at each other he asks, "Can you speak?"

You nod in response and he groans loudly as he sits back heavily in his chair. You stifle a giggle but can't hide the smile that spreads across your lips as you realize how cute the prince looks when he is frustrated. Your smile quickly vanishes, replaced by a furious blush when he catches you.

He leans forward, his arms crossed on his desk, "What's your name?"

"Sergeant Y/L/N," you answer after clearing your throat. It's well past noon but it is the first time you've spoken today.

"What is your first name?" he asks, from his tone you gather that is what he meant the first time.

You reply unsure why he would want to know, "Y/N your highness."

"Y/N," he repeats with a smile that makes you nervous. "No need to look so scared," he says with a laugh. "I simply want to talk. You can speak freely while you are in here with me."

You shift in your seat and tell him, "I'm afraid I don't know what it is you would like me to say."

He leans back again and places his hands behind his head, "Anything... I find I'm quite bored. I have an hour until my next meeting but just for once today, I would like to listen to someone who isn't a councilor or an accountant or Gods help me, my father." He is silent while you ponder his request then he sits up and says, "Why don't you tell me a joke if you can't think of any good topics for conversation?"

"A joke your highness?" you ask, your mind immediately goes blank. Do you even know any jokes, you try to think. The only jokes you've heard recently have been told by other soldiers and none of those should be repeated to a prince. They were either far too dirty or overly political and you were not about to be thrown in the dungeon for mocking the royal family.

He shakes his head at your silence and turns to face the window behind his desk, watching the rain fall steadily.

"Why can't you trust stairs?" you finally ask.

"What?" he asks, turning back to face you.

"Why can't you trust stairs?" you repeat with as much of a straight face as you can. This was one of your favorite jokes when you were a child. You would tell it to anyone who would listen, sometimes more than once.

He shakes his head without spending any time thinking about an answer, "I don't know. Why not?"

"Because they are always up to something," you say with a wide grin.

He stares at you blankly and your pride in your joke falters, your grin fading. A moment later a smile spreads across his lips followed by a short bought of laughter. He shakes his head as he slowly stops laughing and says, "Gods, that truly may be the worst joke I have ever heard."

You nod in agreement then look down at your heavy leather boots wondering if he will let you leave now that you fulfilled his request.

After a moment of silence, he asks, "Do you know any others?"

"A few," you admit with a shrug, "But I assure you, most of them are far worse than that."

He smiles and sits back in his chair comfortably. "I will admit, I have always been fond of terrible puns," he tells you. "Would you like to hear one of my favorites?"

You are snapped back to the present as Loki and the queen step out of the garden. She is still holding his arm as they walk together. They reach the gate and come to a stop, he hugs his mother and whispers something to her. She nods in response and smiles at him before telling him to have a goodnight.

You fight every urge growing in you to abandon your post and follow him as you once did but you know you never will again. He nods ever so slightly towards you as he walks past and you bow as you've been trained. His guard follows at his heels.

You stand at the edge of the garden and wait for the queen. Instead of walking back inside the palace as she typically would, she stands next to you. She turns so she is facing the sunset and you can't help but turn as well. For a few moments you both stand silently, taking in the changing colors of the sky as the sun sinks from view.

"He misses you," the queen says softly.

You look at her and instantly feel your heart beat faster. This is the closest you've come to having any communication with Loki since the night of the ball. You had gone straight to your quarters after you left the throne room that night, you never even had a chance to say goodbye. You take a deep breath to keep your composure but when your eyes met hers you know she can read you as well as Loki can.

"I will tell him you feel the same," she says with a warm smile.

"Thank you, your highness," you respond. You stand together until the sun has set completely then you follow her back to her chambers where she dismisses you for the night.

The next week drags by, the days guarding Loki never seemed this long but finally it is Sunday night again. Loki and his mother conclude their walk, hugging briefly just outside of the gates. As he steps away to leave, she stops him by reaching for his arm. She asks him something quietly and he nods in response as he looks towards you. You make eye contact with the prince and he smiles but you can see how sad he truly is, you desperately want to run to him but you stay where you are and try your best to smile back. They say their goodbyes and he heads back towards his chambers with his sentry. You bow as he passes then stand at attention again, waiting for the queen.

She stands beside you and you both turn towards the sunset, taking in its beauty. Just as you begin to wonder if Loki left a message for you again his mother looks over at you.

"He thinks about you all the time," she tells you.

You smile at her words but your heart aches as wish you could hear them from him.

"Is there anything you would like me to tell Loki?" she asks. You nod, there are so many things you want to tell him. "I promise I will tell him whatever you need him to hear," she encourages you to speak, much like her son used to.

"Can you tell him I love him and I miss him deeply?" you ask. You had never admitted to anyone before that you loved Loki but you needed him to know your feelings were as strong as they had always been.

"I will," she says, she rests a comforting hand on your shoulder and you thank her.

It's warmer today than it has been all week, perfect weather for standing guard at the edge of the garden, you think to yourself. You look up as a small flock of birds fly over head, the sky barely has any clouds.

When the prince and the queen have finished their walk, they hug as usual and you feel your heart beat speed up when he whispers something to her. You have been waiting anxiously all week to hear what message the queen would relay to you from Loki. After he leaves with his sentry, the queen turns back to the garden.

"Walk with me," she says to you and you follow her.

You had walked down every hallway and taken every staircase in the palace but you had never been in the garden. As you pass the wrought iron gates you can't help but look around in wonder. It may still be winter but the garden is in full bloom.

"When Loki was little, I used to bring him here to teach him how to use his magic," she says with a smile as she walks down the stone path. She reaches her hand towards a rose bush full of buds and the flowers open in response as she passes. "He helped me enchant this garden to bloom year round when he was still a child, did you know that?" she asks as she moves further into the garden. You can tell by her tone that she is proud of her son and it makes you smile.

"I did your highness," you tell her. Loki had told you much about his childhood during your time together.

The two of you walk further into the garden until the pond comes into view. You had never seen it of course but Loki had described it perfectly. Two stone benches sit a few feet from the water on the west side while the other is shaded by a large willow tree.

"He told me..." you start but stop yourself when the queen turns to look at you.

"Please, continue," she encourages you.

"He told me the two of you would spend hours by the pond during the summer. He loved watching you turn flowers into frogs or cast fireworks over the water," you tell her, you loved listening to stories of him exploring his magic.

Queen Frigga slows her pace so she is walking next to you and you are immediately reminded of how Loki used to walk with you, not in front of you when you were alone.

"Those are some of my favorite memories with him," she tells you. A few steps later she laughs to herself and you look at her curiously but don't ask what she is thinking about. "I was sitting just over there reading," she points to a wooden bench near a tall oak tree. "Loki was about ten or eleven. He came running into the garden holding a small snake, he looked utterly panicked," she says. "I asked him what was wrong and he tried to hand me the snake but I refused to touch it until he told me it was his brother," she fails to hold back her laughter any longer and you can't help but join in.

"He told me about that!" you tell her excitedly, forgetting you are talking to the queen of Asgard. In this moment, you are simply talking to the mother of the man you love. "Loki said Thor was bothering him, he was just trying to study and he accidentally turn him into a snake but couldn't undo it," you repeat what he had told you.

She smiles and shakes her head as her laughter dies down. "Sometimes I miss those days," she says, her smile fading quickly now as her mood shifts. "When his biggest concern was why his older brother and he couldn't get along," she sighs. "He has not been himself these last few weeks. I worry about him," she admits as she stops walking.

You stop with her and before you say anything in response she says, "I can see how much you worry about him as well."

You nod but remain silent, you feel an ache grow in your chest. All the joy you felt only moments ago is gone.

"I know it must seem unbearable but don't lose hope," she says and you look up at her. "Loki wanted me to tell you that he hasn't stopped looking for a way to be with you again."

You lose your composure momentarily at her words, all you want is to be back in Loki's arms. Hearing he hasn't given up on your relationship is everything you needed, you can't stop the first tear from slipping free. Wiping it away with the back of your hand quickly, you apologize, "I'm sorry your highness. I just..." You pause, afraid to say more. You are not used to losing control of your emotions in general but doing so in front of the queen is unthinkable.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she says in a motherly tone. She waits patiently for you to continue but you can't seem to find the right words to express how you feel. She touches your shoulder gently and you stand together in silence for a few moments before turning back towards the palace.

You bow to Loki as he walks past you on his way back towards the palace. He is followed closely by a new sentry, a woman this time. You had only met Corporal Glasgow once before, she was fairly new to your company. You wonder why Loki changed guards and for someone with such little experience. Typically members of the royal family were only guarded by soldiers ranked sergeant or higher.

The queen stays at the entrance to the garden and you wait for her as always. She faces away from you, watching the sunset. A part of you wants to ask her if Loki has a message for you but you stay at your post silently.

"You are dismissed for the night, Lieutenant Y/L/N," she says without taking her eyes off the colorful sky.

You bow even though she is not looking and turn to walk back towards the palace. It's odd that she is letting you leave so early, part of your duty is to ensure the queen's safe return to her chambers but you are not permitted to question her orders so you obey.

As you take your first few steps up the path, your heart sinks at the realization that Loki had no words for you this week. Your pace slows slightly, you are in no rush to return to your quarters for another lonely, miserable night.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," the queen calls and you turn back to face her. "You might want to take a left at the top of the stairs." She turns back towards the sunset without any explanation as to why.

You pause before continuing on, unsure why she would say that. The soldiers quarters could only be reached if you made a right down the hallway once you reached the top of the stairs. Taking a left would lead you further into the palace, a path you no longer needed to take.

You reach the wooden doors and pull them open, taking a step inside, you look up at the staircase in front of you. You climb the stairs, the only sound is your heavy boots against the marble and the clinking of your armor. You pause only for a moment at the top of the stairs, looking down the hall to your right. You already know what's that way, another night laying in your bed wishing with all your might that you could just have a few more minutes with Loki. You decide that can wait while you figure out what the queen was hinting at.

You turn left and move down the hall, it's lined with windows on the garden side and four tall doors mirroring the windows placement on the opposite side. You had been this way more times than you could count when you were Loki's sentry. It is the longest way back towards the royal chambers. He would always take this route back from his walks with his mother since you were unlikely to pass anyone and he could hold your hand or speak to you without worry.

You never wondered what was in these rooms but now you can't help but be curious. Most of them were unoccupied offices you imagine, they were too far from the main part of the palace for anyone of importance to work here. As you pass the third wooden door you hear it open and turn quickly.

Your heart jumps as you stand face to face with Loki. Without thinking, you wrap your arms tightly around him and he does the same.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @foxherder @tonystank8

130 notes · View notes

ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 4 months

Text

“A Strange Little World”- Loki x Reader

As the walls of duty and destiny close in around you and your secret lover, Loki proposes that you wash your hands of it all and start your own palace of dreams out in the realms.

Pairing: Loki x Asgardian!F!Reader Content Warning: sexism, forced marriage, military conscription, Odin is a massive c**t, some lusty thoughts, mostly longing and comfort fluff Word Count: 5.1k

You liked to ‘play house’ with Loki, but it didn’t mean the same thing to you that it would to other couples.

Whereas the mere mention of the game for most would conjure images of naughty romping and playacting in the buff, for two good little citizens of Asgard’s elite, it was a bit more literal than that for you.

Your lives were already so chaotic, with expectations raining down upon you like hot stones, forcing you to duck one way and leap another every waking second. Loki, as a prince of the realm, was moved around by his family and tutors like a pawn on a chessboard. He was kept constantly on his feet with everything from physical training to seidr sessions, diplomacy lessons, holding court, touring the front lines, etc. Odin had even begun to parade possible brides before his second son, evidently refusing to accept your rank as worthy of the royal family.

For your part, you were also being tossed about the whipping winds of life as a courtier. Finishing school had been rough enough, but your quest to join the Valkyries had only just borne fruit. Alas, this was against your father’s wishes to marry you off instead. Your days were spent doing everything in your power to convince your family to release you from a marriage contract made to a distant cousin years ago in order to join the elite team of fighters.

Not to mention, Odin considered Valkyries to be worthy of a prince’s hand.

What you never understood was how Odin, in his supposedly infinity wisdom, couldn’t foresee that allowing two youths to run around as playmates in childhood could possibly lead to a romance as adulthood took hold. As children, you and Loki joked about what you would name your own sons and daughters. When you both began to realize the jokes were turning into sincere wishes for your future, it all changed forever. Odin began eyeing you with suspicion and disdain where he once smiled with fatherly affection. He’d outright rejected your suit when Loki brought it to proposal.

Once it became all but apparent that your affectionate interludes with Prince Loki were temporary at best, you refused to give in to it. Instead, you began meeting in secret, which was easier than imagined for a Prince and his muse, for behind the armoire in his bedchamber was a hidden door, which led to a small winding staircase. The hidden passage led to a cozy sitting room with only a few chairs, a table, and a fainting sofa over by the window. The room was trimmed in gold, the walls a faded, light green. Perhaps once it had been used for the same purpose it now was, but for one of Loki’s own ancestors (you only hoped they approved of you more than the Allfather did).

Nothing brought you or your princely lover more joy than to sit in his private parlor and regale one another about your stressful days bowing to the whims of the Allfather’s court. Thus, like a married pair, you chose to sneak away after supper each night to Loki’s chamber to have dessert and tea, and to pretend that the hard, demanding world outside his window wasn’t there, perhaps dissolved away in an after-storm fog. Perhaps his sitting room was flying through the clouds, up, up, and away from Asgard…

The lovemaking was always sublime, but even at your quietest, sipping tea and sharing a slice of pastry, you were in paradise as long as he was beside you. You hung on Loki’s every word, no matter what he was describing or how well you understood it. In return, he smiled and took your hand whenever you expressed your own fears for your future.

“Like a husband and wife,” Loki had tenderly whispered once, a grateful smile unrolling like a banner across his lips. “I cannot tell anyone else what I express to you every night with perfect ease.”

You and Loki did what no one else in any of the nine realms bothered to do: you listened to one another. Loki wove a tapestry of emotion, conflict, and dreams whenever he spoke. Even describing the most mundane of daily activities was like listening to a sonnet. He observed the world differently from most people. His mind was beautiful (as was the rest of him). If only his wonderful thoughts weren’t wasted on unreceptive ears like the King’s.

Additionally, it was obvious that he found your own rambling monologue like the preface to a grand story in which he just had to immerse himself. Whether you were bemoaning your betrothal plans or how itchy your ceremonial robes were, he drank in your every word like a rich, intoxicating wine.

However, not every night was for unloading your troubles. Some nights, like the one you presently found yourself in, were for fantasy. You and Loki had just finished making love in his bed, and now you were wrapped only in his bedsheets and sitting in his secret room, waiting for dessert to be delivered. Loki had only covered his lap for the sake of the servant when he came with tea.

“Did you take the contraceptive I sent?” he asked once the servant left.

“Of course,” you replied, sighing to yourself. “I always do.” Of course precautions would be necessary if you were to continue sleeping with the Prince, but it sometimes drove home a fact that gave you great sorrow: one day soon, someone would be proudly carrying Loki’s heirs, and it wouldn’t be you.

He sat back in his chair and spread his legs apart, rendering the small lap blanket he’d halfheartedly covered himself with entirely useless. He looked out the window into the fading summer light with a dreamy gaze in his eye. “I’ve been thinking, and I don't like Henrik for a boy after all.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the teapot, at least until Loki instantly sat up in order to get to it and pour your cup before you could do it yourself. “Thank you,” you said softly, taking a sip of the hot, floral tea, letting its mellow aroma settle your nerves for a moment before adding your thoughts. “And I told you before I won’t EVER allow a child of mine to be named…ergh…Henrik.”

Loki gave a hearty chortle as he reached for a handful of candied pecans from a small bowl. “Too common for my Princess’ babe, is it?”

“Too common for a stable raker,” you retorted. After a moment of silence, you added, “Out of curiosity, do you have anything better in mind?”

“There are hundreds of names worthy of a child of the royal family,” answered Loki, popping two nuts into his mouth and taking a moment to chew and swallow them before carrying on. “However, there are far fewer names worthy of a child of ours.”

You wanted to move forward with your scenario, naming your offspring, planning your household, raising your future higher than it could ever be in truth. However, you had something you needed to tell him now, before anything got too difficult for you to say.

“My father has summoned Birger for the official betrothal,” you blurted out, causing Loki to startle and put down his tea cup with a little too much force. “He says he shall arrive tomorrow.”

He scoffed, leaning back again in clear disapproval. “Does your dear father know that marrying one’s cousin is nothing short of repulsive?”

“You know he is of the old ways, he knows most disapprove of his plans,” you said sadly, looking at your reflection in the cup before you, a single tear falling suddenly from your eye and landing in the middle of the brown liquid. “But that still doesn’t save me from it!”

Loki grunted like a frustrated boy, biting his lip to keep from letting the entirety of his unflattering judgements loose on you. He was still your father, after all, and Asgardian custom always demanded respect from one’s children. But something was occurring to him: an idea slowly coming into focus behind his eyes.

You’d expected him to say something by now. “Loki? Darling? What is it?”

“It suddenly makes sense,” he answered, leaning over the table and extending his arms out to you, open-palmed hands asking for yours. “My dear, I’m afraid they’re plotting deliberately against us, your father and mine both.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, gasping with surprise as you folded your hands into his from the other side of the table.

“Odin informed me over breakfast today that I am to serve my military conscription, beginning four days hence.”

“No!” you nearly shouted. “Please at least say he’s sending you to Vanaheim or Alfheim--”

“--regrettably, Thor and I are both being shipped like common rats off to Svartalfheim. There’s rustling in the air of an invasion.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.

For you, the tears came more freely now. “But it’s dangerous there! You could die on the front against the Dark Elves!”

Loki shrugged. “Even Odin wouldn’t sacrifice his sons so thoughtlessly. We will be fighting from the tents, my darling, please believe me.”

“So, the King is sending you away to fight at the same time I am to be formally engaged,” you realized. “Tearing us apart forever.”

Loki squeezed your hand as his skin turned cool. “A mandatory conscription is for ten moon cycles,” he reminded you. “You will be wed by the time I return.”

“And you can’t get out of your duty?” you asked frantically. “You’re a Prince! Use your privilege to revoke it!”

He shook his head and brought your right hand to his lips, where he placed a sweet, tender, sad kiss on your fingers. “Desertion is death, even for one such as I.”

“Then what are we to do?”

He shrugged, at a loss as much as you were. “I have no idea, I’m afraid.”

After a moment’s awkward pause as you contemplated your dilemma, Loki added, “And your cotillion, which I presume your father will hold with all the appropriate pomp?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

Loki looked over his shoulder, toward the setting sun in the window, which cast orange beams of light about the room behind your heads, giving the room a peaceful glow as night set in. “Truly, I thought Thor would have at least had his engagement gala by now with Sif. Meanwhile, I’d only imagined my own with you.”

You bit on your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“However,” he went on, running his thumb casually over your knuckles, “I can imagine they are a rather dull affair. After all, every debutante ball I’ve been dragged by the ankles to witness has had the energy and excitement of an execution. A betrothal ceremony and celebration can hardly be better, can it?”

“As if that sentiment helps how I feel,” you mumbled.

You tore your hands from Loki’s grip, getting up from the chair and going over to the window, your back to Loki. After a moment, you sensed him moving in behind you before wrapping his arms around your belly, swinging you softly back and forth.

“You know it’s a crime to turn your back on your sovereign, Princess,” he said, his deep, gentle tone mismatching his words.

“Sadly, you aren’t my sovereign. Odin is,” you whispered, barely audible even to him. “And it seems to me that he has us like flies on his web.”

Loki’s mind was floating away the more he touched your warm body. “How lovely the sunset is tonight, chasing the fog away. Wouldn’t it be divine to walk down to the orchards on the edge of the city to watch it from the rolling knolls?”

You smiled and closed your eyes, losing yourself in fantasy. “I can almost hear Juni and Vali giggling and running around one of the fruit trees. Vali always tries to steal a lemon to throw around at her, the rascal!”

A moment of silence. “Juni?”

You turned your head, jerked out of your luxurious inner tableau. “Yes, Juni.”

“Vali is considerable,” Loki admitted, “But Juni? Is our daughter a cat?”

You giggled as Loki’s silly ramble reached a climax. “Can you see her debut? ’Now announcing to the court and the Nine Realms…Her Royal Highness, Princess Juni of Asgard?!’” His mock horror nearly brought you to your knees in laughter. “I’d sooner name her Thora.”

You turned around, facing your Loki and slowly cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Maybe we should stop this. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Juni will never be. Nor will Vali or any other of our ghost-children.”

“Ghosts are dead,” Loki stopped you, leaning into your cheek and shutting his eyes. “Our children are merely yet-to-be.”

“Never to be,” you corrected him, leaving the pair of you in depressed silence for minutes until he broke it with a kiss and a sigh.

“I should leave you,” you said, your eyes flooding with hot tears again. “Maybe it will be better if we never see each other again.”

He looked hurt by your decision, even frightened. “I can’t do that. I want to spend our last hours together in your arms and weaving our false hopes together in this strange little world we’ve made together.”

“Tell that to your father, and mine,” you snapped back, turning away again, not wanting for him to see you break down entirely. “It would make the separation even more difficult for us if we don’t just ignore one another until you leave for the front lines.”

After yet another uncomfortable pause, you felt Loki put a hand on your shoulder. It felt cold.

“Perhaps so,” he finally agreed. “But if you ever need me, I’ll come to you before your heart beats again.”

With nothing to say that wasn’t an outpouring of pleas and love, you quickly abandoned him in his secret closet, crestfallen and lonely once more. You didn’t make it back to your rooms in the palace, needing to hide behind a statue of Allfather Bor to hide your sobs.

Your father, Njord, was descended from one of the lesser branches of the Asgardian elite families. No royal blood to speak of flowed through your veins, but just enough nobility to warrant membership of the highest social class, and some degree of access to the court and King.

There was also just enough prestige in your lineage to call for a formal debutante ball when you reached majority, as well as a formal engagement cotillion to acknowledge the arrival of your bridegroom, complete with a banquet barge that spent the day floating carelessly in circles around the palace moat.

Njord, social climber he was, spared no expense for the revelries in order to show off the little status he held, going so far as to dare to extend an invitation to the royal family themselves. The barge was decked in your family colors: sapphire blue and silver, in the form of perhaps a few too many banners and garlands. You thought the decorations were so many that the yacht could sink under the added weight.

You were arrayed in the finest sapphire silk your parents could find, which, as it turned out, was merely a gown borrowed from a relative who’d never worn it. Still, between the soft, clingy fabric and the shimmering silver family crest hanging at your throat, you were a radiant sight.

Traditionally, the barge made three laps around the palace without the bridegroom on board. On the third go-around, he would embark and make a presentation before you and your parents, after which the boat would continue circling all afternoon as everyone aboard flooded their minds with wine. Those first three laps took nearly an hour to complete, and each second that passed, each inch that was sailed, you grew more and more nauseated.

You may as well have jumped into the water. You were already drowning in a sea of insincerity, lost in waves of mindless chatter about dish patterns. Meanwhile, your soul floated above your head, looking for Loki in each window of the castle, wondering which room he sulked in. Was he watching as your yacht floated by? Was he trying to get a good look at you in your dress? Or did he turn away and flinch as you rode past?

Birger and his mother, a widow with a perpetually-puckered lip, boarded without incident as the barge made a temporary berth at the palace gate. He was dressed in matching color to yours, his shiny blonde hair swept back into a bun, a gold chain obscured by a few to many ruffles at the neck. He was handsome, but his big brown eyes looked somewhat vacant, as if he was only partially aware of his surroundings. Or perhaps, he was looking for you.

Led along a red carpet, Birger and his sour-faced mother bowed at the waist before you and your parents, beginning the formal engagement ceremony,

“My father-to-be,” mumbled the hapless groom, “I am here to present myself as a suitor for--”

Trumpets sounded suddenly from within the palace in the musical chord that always announced the approach of the Allfather. It was so well-known that everyone turned and bowed at the knee in reflex, aside from yourself and Birger, who was still standing dumbfoundedly in front of you.

“It can’t be!” exclaimed Njord excitedly. “Y/N! Bow! The Allfather is here!”

Odin sauntered regally to the barge with his usual entourage following adoringly behind. The King was flanked on each side by his sons. Thor wore his usual light armor and red cape, looking as dashing and prideful as he ever was.

Loki, of course, had dressed himself as formally as possible, wearing every piece of princely insignia he owned, flaunting his rank like a peacock’s tail. His dark green jacket was buttoned to the chin and had nary a wrinkle. He’d braided his hair in a rope down the back of his neck, a style he knew all too well that you adored. Over his chest laid a gold sash tied at the hip, and around his legs were black trousers lined at the hem with gold trim. He even wore the tiny gold earring studs you once gifted him with for Jol.

You wanted him. You needed him. And he knew this ceremonial outfit of his drove you wild.

You scoundrel, you thought to yourself, your eyes unable to detach from his image as he drew closer.

“Lord Njord of the Westlands,” Odin called out, his booming voice going against what would otherwise have been expected from his old man’s frame, “I greet you in jubilation at the engagement of your only daughter, and my sons and I hope to join you in your revelries this afternoon!”

Njord looked about to urinate. “I…ugh….YES YOUR HIGHN--”

“--we greet you most humbly and invite you to our feast!” interrupted your mother, much more calm. “We are honored by your attention, Allfather!”

“Then let the festivities continue!” Odin declared with joviality. A cheer rang up from everyone aside from yourself, your intended, and your soul mate. You and Loki were tense and sorrowful. Birger was nervous now that his presentation would be witnessed by the most powerful man in the Nine.

The royal procession moved onto the barge, and once the boat sailed once more, Birger was invited to continue his formal proposal. He had come with a poem of his own creation: a simple, four-lined stanza about marriage that didn’t even rhyme. Afterward, he took out a lyre and began stroking out a painfully simple song that was traditionally taught to children as a first assignment at a music lesson. Loki was cringing from the stern of the boat, near a door that led down into the hull. You tried hard to stifle a giggle, and the urge to reject the man right out only grew as the insipid ballad went into third and fourth reprises.

You were so distracted that Njord had to recite your line for you after the presentation was (finally!) finished: “My daughter accepts your suit, and four cycles hence, you will wed before the Allfather and share in your joys and sorrows until the end of time.”

Your sadness reached an apex when you realized that not only would Loki be away for ten cycles, but with your wedding so soon, you could be well into a pregnancy by the time he returned, and what image would that be with which to greet your soul mate?

Another cheer rang up, but your nausea was making your face turn hot, and you only had a moment to absorb the event before the world turned to watercolor before you, and you sank to your knees. In your stupor, you could hear a few gasps, your mother calling your name, and a few scuttling feet.

Taking off like a shot, Loki got to you first in spite of the distance between you, using his godlike speed to ensure that he would be the one scooping you up instead of your fiance.

No matter, he was still standing on the red carpet, dumbfounded, a string having snapped on his lyre.

Loki ran with you into the hull, slamming the door behind him and seeking out anything on which to lay you down. He came across a cushioned bench under a porthole, and as soon as he set you down, you came back, smiling at the view of his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t eat this morning out of nerves.”

“Understandable, Princess,” Loki muttered sweetly, taking your hand in both of his, closing them around yours as if they held a precious jewel inside that needed to be protected. “You should know that this was all Odin’s doing. He’s trying to motivate me to turn my back on you by bringing me here.”

“I thought so.”

He went on. “Yesterday, he tried to tell me that you were excitedly preparing for your wifely duties with your…cousin. When I didn’t believe him, he forced Thor and I to attend the party today, as if rubbing my nose in your engagement would rend my love from me!”

Loki leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Do you need water, love?”

You nodded, even as the haze around your vision faded and your senses returned.

“Have another fetch it then, and leave us.”

Odin’s darker, authoritative voice was enough to force Loki to stand at attention, conditioned to do so from the first day he toddled upright. He’d followed you below decks.

Loki looked at you with concern, but you replied by stubbornly shaking off his offered arm as you got to your feet. “It’s okay, love,” you said to Loki. “I presume the Allfather wishes to personally congratulate me on my engagement.”

“Indeed, and to see to your health, of course,” Odin replied with a frown, looking expectantly at Loki again. This time, upon hearing your release, Loki defiantly kissed your brow again before looking his father in the face, brushing past him angrily to go upstairs.

After he was certain that Loki was gone, Odin turned back to you. You did give him a small curtsy. “I am glad to see you on your feet again,” remarked Odin. “Tis a pity to see a bride fall ill at her own cotillion.”

You didn’t answer him with words, instead refusing to look him in the eye deliberately.

Odin went on. “Of course, it is the proper course of action for you to move forward with the marriage, and I am glad to see you obeying your call to be a wife.”

Again, you refused him a reply, shifting your feet uncomfortably, wishing Loki would return with water for you.

“You would have made a poor valkyrie,” he continued, musing as if it weren’t an insult but a mere fact, “You lack the discipline and swiftness. I’m unsure why Brunnhilde accepted your bid at all. Perhaps it was a kindness.”

“Because she knew after I was inducted, you’d have no further excuse to refuse my suit,” you finally replied. “She and I are friends enough that she knows my heart.”

“I am the King of Asgard, I need no excuse to refuse any suitors who wish to taint my son’s lineage with their common blood!”

You shrunk back a little, genuinely hurt.

“You will both come to realize in time that I am only doing what is right. Your cousin is a suitable husband. Perhaps if you agree to end this silly affair with my son, I will double the worth of your wedding gift in gratitude.”

You scoffed and ignored the bribe. “So tainting Loki’s lineage with my blood is a mortal sin, yet tainting my own with incest is not a crime?” you asked incredulously. “My King, your logic repulses me. Please execute me instead.”

Odin didn’t seem to expect this. “Well, being so rash would hardly be appropriate here.”

You nodded, rolling your eyes and completely losing your decorum. “I should have known a creature with no heart wouldn’t understand!”

In the heat of the moment, you put your life on the line to brush past Odin, turning your back on him and immediately running back into the open air.

Loki was not far from you, but you didn’t move toward him, instead running to the ship’s railing and looking over the side. The moat wasn’t particularly deep, but no one, not even your father, knew you could swim.

Maybe, I could--

Turning back to Loki, running toward you full-tilt, you winked at him before leaping over the railing in one move. Your sapphire silk flew up behind you like a banner as you dove headfirst into the moat, swimming around the bend and out of sight.

You didn’t hear the splash from behind as Loki executed a perfect swan-dive in after you.

Moving quickly, you were able to find a small portion of the moat’s edge where you could hoist your body onto the side without climbing. By then, the barge was on the other side of the palace and wouldn’t be due to double back for nearly an hour.

Still, you could hear the chaotic shouts for you calling out from behind, and you quickly snuck behind a bush in order to wring out your soaked dress. You didn’t want to wait too long, and you were able to sneak your way out of town without being noticed or taken for anyone other than a soaking-wet maid in a ruined ceremonial dress dashing toward the beach.

The shores of Asgard were littered with waterfalls that poured out into the open sea. You hid behind one, tucked in a small cavern in the rock, waiting for Loki to come to you. There, no one else would find you and drag you home. However, you’d been here with Loki before. He knew the significance of the spot. He only needed to bide his time until he could slip away from Odin’s attention.

Father will whip me for hours for this, and then move up the wedding to tomorrow, you thought woefully.

The sun began its afternoon descent, and while you could occasionally hear guards and search parties calling out from the sandy shore, no one thought to look behind any of the cascades for you, and by teatime, it sounded like they’d given up or moved on. You were beginning to get cold, wondering if you would have to find a room in an inn for the night. Hopefully, no one would recognize you…

Fortunately, when the faint green glow of seidr began to split the falls open from the middle outward, just before the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew Loki had found you, and just in time.

There he stood, about ten feet below you on the shore giving you a dry spot to climb down the cliffside. He held a horse’s reins in his free hand, and the huge white stallion he had in his captivity was saddled and antsy to run.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized as you fell into his arms. “I swam after you, but you try getting past an entire city of people when you're Prince. Plus, I had a few things to gather for our ride.”

“Ride?” you asked, wiping away a tear with your closed fist awkwardly.

He nodded with a wink and a sneaky grin that was laced with excitement. “I think after today, we’ve both had enough of this nonsense, haven’t you?”

You smiled and stepped up to pet the beautiful creature on the snout. It leaned into your hand with a gentle exhale, indicating his contentment.

“Indeed.”

He helped you onto the horse, and then took his place in front of you at the reins. You’d never ridden before, and so you wrapped your arms tightly around Loki’s waist, which made him chuckle.

“Normally, I would protest that this was too tight a grip. However, it being you…you may hold me even closer if you can manage it.”

At first, you maintained a death-grip on him as you began riding off along the beach, away from the palace. Quickly, however, your trust of Loki and relief that you were putting distance between yourself and your intended gave you confidence, and only after a few minutes, you began to relax.

“Loki, when will we return to Asgard? Tomorrow?”

He brought your hand up to his lips, where he took a moment to kiss every finger. Each touch of his soft lips against your skin sent tiny bolts of lightning up your arm and down your spine.

“I was thinking, perhaps, my sweet Princess, that we would never return to Asgard. Let us find a new plot of land and make ourselves the King and Queen of it!”

“But your conscription!” you protested. “You cannot submit yourself to the axe on my account.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “My projection will, however, be most glad to lose his head on our behalf.”

You rode vigorously along the coastline for a few miles until the sun was setting over the watery horizon, when you slowed to a trot, convinced that you weren’t being pursued by Odin or your father and Birger. Asgard itself was no longer visible behind you, and only the faint glow of the city’s hazy aura polluting the indigo sky indicated its continued existence.

“Loki, my love?”

“Yes, Princess?” he cooed back, squeezing your hand affectionately before returning it to the reigns.

There was nothing but the beach and sky before you for as far as you could see. “Do you…do you know where we’re going?”

A brief pause. You couldn’t see it from behind him on the saddle, but you knew Loki was grinning.

“Of course not, my dear. But isn’t that the best part of all?”

I'm back and revitalized (and married)! :D I hope you enjoyed my little return fic! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

RANDOM TAGGIES: @acidcasualties @buttercupcookies-blog @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtiggerv2 @gruftiela @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @mischief2sarawr @maple-seed @simplyholl @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki fluff #fluff/comfort #asgard #elopement #loki x reader comfort #run away #bittersweet ending #odin sucks #arranged married

171 notes · View notes

hezzabeth · 4 months

Text

The trumpets were old plastic souvenirs painted gold, so the off-key wailing was hardly surprising. A band of disheveled people marched onto the stage, still blowing on the plastic trumpets. Surprisingly, Isabeau was among them, her face displaying a bored, blank expression. They abruptly stopped once they reached the center of the scaffold, the wood creaking under their feet.

A man wearing green tights and a shirt reading "Medieval Christmas market 3345" on it walked onto the stage. His hair had been cut into a peculiar bowl shape with a blunt fringe, and someone had painted red circles on his cheeks.

"All hail Sister Morganna! Conduit of the one true god," the man bellowed in a surprisingly high-pitched voice.

“Did you bring your solar flare gun?” Dityaa asked.

“Of course I did! I never go anywhere without it,” Revati snapped back.

Revati had never seen Sister Morganna up close. During her childhood visits, Sister Morganna was a distant figure. Glimpses of her gloved hands could be seen waving from the castle windows. Every summer solstice, she would lead a parade across the park, carried by men in a gold and white carriage. Through the mesh curtain windows, her shadowy figure could be seen shifting about. Now, Sister Morganna was walking across the scaffold boldly and freely.

She was dressed in a sky-blue and emerald dress, with a thick red and golden scarf covering her scalp, the ends trailing down her shoulders. Slowly, she turned toward the waiting audience, and Revati gasped. Sister Morganna's skin was the same color as fresh lavender. A single round, circular eye glanced about—an eye that could see and understand everything, even things that had yet to be—an eye that could glance into the very nature of people.

“She’s an alien!” whispered Dityaa.

It was an eye that could read minds; no wonder she had successfully started a cult.

“Technically, she’s a human from a faraway planet,” Revati hissed back.

The "faraway planet" was the closest the solar system got to actual aliens. Over a thousand years ago, a group of scientists set off to colonize Pluto. Obviously, they vanished, the ship sinking into the darkness of space. Three hundred years ago, their descendants returned. They were, of course, different.

Sister Morganna calmly walked across the stage and raised her hand.

“Praise be to Marduk, son of the sun, radiant is he,” Sister Morganna said.

“Radiant is he,” the crowd echoed, their expressions blank.

“Who’s Marduk?” Hissed Dityaa.

Revati merely shrugged, completely confused.

“Today we bring forward two heretics, those who smother the great transition,” Sister Morganna said, gesturing towards Bridgadeiro and Aurora.

“Heretic? I don’t even understand what I did! All I said was 'Bless Goup' when my new friend sneezed,” Bridgadeiro argued, nodding at Aurora.

“And I didn’t do anything! I swear,” Aurora cried.

“Goup is a lie! A false prophet created by an ancient snake oil seller,” Sister Morganna said with a small, tight smile.

“False prophet? The rainbow mat of crystal light has been proven to work! It balances your mind, body, and spirit,” Bridgadeiro smiled, and Sister Morganna turned to him, her one eye slowly blinking.

“I can see you standing on that mat, praying to the dark,” she whispered. “Your brother, he drowned, didn’t he? On that hot summer night? You cried and prayed! You think it was her that brought him back,” she added, and the smile dropped from Bridgadeiro’s face.

“She did save him! Goup saved him,” Bridgadeiro said, and Sister Morganna shook her head.

“Oh, you’re a true believer... you poor little boy,” she sighed. “Some gods are lies, but Marduk is true and ancient. My people have lived on his surface! We have been blessed with his gifts! Praise Marduk,” Sister Morganna said.

“Praise Marduk,” the entire crowd screamed, including Revati, who found herself clapping her hand over her mouth. Sister Marduk had hijacked her vocal cords.

“Now repent and embrace Marduk or sacrifice your light to his glory,” Sister Marduk cried.

“I repent! All hail Marduk!” Aurora cried, bursting into tears.

“Well, I’m not repenting. Marduk is just another name for your home planet that blew up centuries ago,” Bridgadeiro said with a small shrug.

“Very well,” Sister Morganna said. Revati sighed, pulling out her solar gun and setting the final charge to maximum.

“Oh, you’re not going to…” whispered Dityaa, and Revati nodded, pulling the trigger.

The solar flare hit the stage in a blinding loop of ultraviolet light. Sister Morganna screamed, flying upwards and landing face-first in the crowd, her body twitching.

“Praise Marduk! This must be an omen!” Aurora smartly yelled from the stage.

The crowd, no longer under Sister Morganna’s control, began to scatter in all directions. Some stumbled towards the fallen leader, striking her with whatever they could find. Others pushed and shoved each other, stumbling over cobblestones.

Through it all, Bridgadeiro stood, completely confused, his hands still tied behind his back. People pushed and shoved, stumbling over each other and tripping on the slick cobblestones. Revati fought through the tidal wave of chaos until she reached the scaffold again. Bridgadeiro was staring down at her, completely transfixed.

“Did you just save my life again?” He asked.

“Yes!” Revati replied, climbing up to the scaffold.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen! He said it so quickly,” Aurora said as Revati began to undo her bound hands.

“It was pure instinct!” protested Bridgadeiro.

The crowd was starting to swarm towards the stage like ants around a sugar cube. From above, Revati could see the smoking, twitching form of Sister Morganna.

“What are they doing?” Bridgadeiro asked, and there was a faint creaking sound as Isabeau joined Revati.

“They’re probably going to kill her; none of them wanted to worship an ancient Babylonian god!” Isabeau said and then she smiled. An actual smile. “I can talk normally again! She’s really gone!” Isabeau cried with delight as Aurora pulled her hands free.

“She’s gone!” Aurora echoed, grabbing Isabeau. Revati watched them kiss for a fraction of a second before politely turning her head.

“Did she really control all these people with her mind? Why would she do that?” Bridgadeiro asked as Revati began to undo his constraints.

“The tornado and the second invasion messed a lot of people up,” Revati merely replied.

“You seem fine,” Bridgadeiro replied, and Revati chuckled.

“Trust me, I’m not fine,” Revati said firmly. Life on Baker Street before the tornado had been hard. But there had been drawing lessons with her father. There had been fairytales with her mother. There had been tea parties with Dityaa. Dityaa.

“Where’s Dityaa?” Revati said as Bridgadeiro tugged his hands free. There was no telltale flash of Snow White silk in the crowd. Everyone was dressed in shades of green and mud brown.

“She was out there before,” Bridgadeiro said, gesturing to the bottom left corner of the courtyard. Revati jumped swiftly off the scaffold, ignoring the pain searing up her ankles. People were pressing in from all sides, shrieking, laughing, and, in some cases, singing. A blur of purple skin and red fabric passed her head on outstretched hands.

“Did you see a girl in a white dress?” Revati screamed in general; no one answered, and the crowd pushed her forward. People were spilling out of the courtyard into the laneways. Someone had decided to start looting the shops. Revati felt herself thrown against a wall, crushed face-first into the bricks. A hand grabbed hers, calloused, well-worn fingers gripping her wrist.

“I saw her at the end of the crowd! This way!” Bridgadeiro ordered her.

“You’re helping,” Revati gasped; something hot and red was trickling down her cheek. Revati was bleeding.

“Let the crowd push you forward; don’t fight it and try not to stumble,” Bridgadeiro said firmly, still holding her hand. The crowd surged and pressed in. Revati could see nothing but gleeful faces, smell nothing but hot, foul sweat.

Then suddenly, the crowd began to break into pieces, trickling away like water. They had reached the back wall of Medieval Faire. There was a hole in the wall. A massive hole. Beyond the hole lay the freezing wilderness of Mars. People were climbing out of the hole, running into the cube-shaped snow. One of them was Dityaa, spinning around and dancing with the Duke of Io. Dityaa spotted them and waved happily.

“They’re all going to freeze to death,” Revati realized, marching to the hole.

“It looks like some of them had enough to steal jackets,” Bridgadeiro added. Revati and Dityaa rarely left the park. When they did, Amma always made them wear her old protective gear. Dityaa seemed oblivious to the cold. It was almost as if the Duke's love was covering her in a warm, sacred light.

The escaping people were beginning to join in with their dancing.

“Look! He was waiting for me outside the wall,” Dityaa yelled, resting her head on his shoulder. Revati stepped closer to the wall. Revati let go of Bridgadeiro’s hand and carefully climbed through the hole. The freezing winter of Mars blew around her, fighting against the park's atmospheric heating system. Snow began to blow around her chest, and Revati felt flushed and dizzy.

The Duke was dressed in the same outfit from the night before. The same thin jacket and trousers. Up close, his blue hair was a little too shiny. Up close, Revati could actually feel heat wafting off his body.

“The Duke was waiting for you… outside in that outfit?” Revati asked suspiciously. Dityaa’s expression froze for a moment as if considering this.

“Sissy’s right! Let’s get out of the cold, darling; I have so much to tell you,” smiled Dityaa. The Duke held up a hand. The tip of his finger turned blue.

“Ah, the sister,” he remarked, reaching towards Revati. His eyes glowed with the brilliance of true Ai, and darkness prevailed.

Here's the revised text with corrected spelling and grammar:

True, jet-black, soothing darkness.

For Revati, who spent most of her nights lost in nightmares, it was actually comforting.

In fact, Revati felt herself sink into it.

The darkness was as soft as the mattress she once slept on.

“Oh, don’t sink into it, Dimpy. It’s not time for that,” her father’s voice whispered in her ear.

Dimpy.

Revati was Dimpy, Dityaa was Rinky.

Jay would draw pictures of them flying across the stars with wings.

Dimpy and Rinky; the sisters were so close they could be twins.

“You’re not real. You died, and your consciousness is in a plastic box,” Revati muttered.

The darkness was warm and sleepy, lulling Revati into nothing at all.

“Some of me is in that box, but scientists don’t know everything. Some of me is also in you, in your sister, and in your mother,” her father’s voice said.

“And I’m guessing I’m dead?” Revati whispered.

“No, you’re just recovering from a traumatic brain injury. Someone has placed a standard issue healing pad on your forehead,” Jay’s voice replied soothingly.

“And how do you know that?” Revati groaned doubtfully.

A distant, tiny light had appeared in the dark.

A pinprick that seemed to strip away things.

“Dimpy, you know I was a nurse! Relax, your glia cells are busy repairing themselves. Look, they move like fireflies,” her father said.

He was right; more dots of light had appeared.

They buzzed around gently.

For a moment, one of them flashed, lighting up everything.

Revati, in that second, saw a much younger Dityaa handing her a doll.

“I remember that doll. I bought it the day Dityaa was born,” her father said.

“Dityaa tried to give it to me after we buried you. I told her I’d take the book of fairy tales instead,” Revati remembered.

“Once upon a time, in the ancient kingdom of Mithila, the earth yielded a miraculous gift. A baby girl was born. She was discovered in a furrow by King Janaka and named Sita. As she grew, her grace and beauty were matched only by her wisdom and strength of character.

One day, Rama, a prince known for his valor and virtue, won her hand in marriage by stringing the mighty bow of Lord Shiva.

Soon after the wedding, Rama and his best friend were exiled to the forest. Sita, full of devotion, followed.

The forest was dark and full of dangers.

The most dangerous being was the demon king Ravana,” a woman’s voice, the voice of the maternity droid, whispered.

The lights were growing stronger, and Revati remembered something.

“Dityaa’s in trouble,” Revati realized.

“Yes, she is,” her father replied.

Revati’s mind was so bright she could see her father.

He looked younger than what she remembered.

He was dressed in the blue protective outfit Amma kept packed away.

Standing next to him was a woman.

A familiar woman cloaked in a fuchsia and green saree.

“You’re the lost princess,” Revati realized, and the Princess nodded.

“Wake me up, wake me up, and I will find my daughter,” the Lost Princess insisted.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo2023 #science fiction #life on mars #saying farewell to armageddon #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #futurism #nibiru #spilled writing #writing science fiction #sci fi ya #sci fi

203 notes · View notes

flavit · 1 year

Text

Welcome to the Black Parade on Tumblr Bells

6___5_8_4___3_6_2___1_4_0___3__363_653_563_5654342_365432___35_63_653_563_5654342_565432___35_62_652_563_5654342_365432___35_63_653_563_5654342_565432

Lyrics to help sing along:

When I was a young boy My father took me into the city To see a marching band He said, "Son, when you grow up Would you be the savior of the broken The beaten and the damned?" He said, "Will you defeat them? Your demons, and all the non-believers The plans that they have made?" "Because one day, I'll leave you a phantom To lead you in the summer To join the black parade"

#Tumblr bells #Tumblr #Bells #Welcome to the Black Parade #My Chemical Romance #Most people out here making Christmas songs #But not me #I hope the spacing translates well #And that no one's done this yet

764 notes · View notes

fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 7 months

Text

The other woman (I could protect you part 2)

part 2 of 4 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x maid!reader

synopsis: King Viserys is finally gone, but with his passing the troubles for Aemond and you have only begun.

warnings: mentions of performing sexual acts, period typical mysoginy, secrert marriage

word count: 1.4k

The night Aemond leads you down to the sept of Baelor, long after everyone had gone to sleep ironically enough is the night of Viserys´ death. The only person beside the two of you there is an intimidated looking Septon, that swears he would not tell anyone of what they were about to do. You can see in his eyes that he thinks this is wrong nonetheless, but what does it matter. If the seven wanted to judge you for the things you had done, so be it. You were not scared of them. The ceremony is held short. Only the necessary words are exchanged as to decrease the danger of a guard or anyone else catching you. Aemond holds your hand the entire time. His single lilac eye glassy and wet with unshed tears of happiness over the fact that you had agreed to wed him. Overjoyed in fact. When he leads you up to his chambers, that you now share, you are surprised to see all your things there already.

Through your surprise, you feel his trembling fingers undoing the laces of your dress. The dark blue satin slides down your body to pool at your feet. You step out of the fabric and turn towards him. Your lips capture his in the first kiss you share as newlyweds, while your hands make quick work of his clothing. The leather is cool underneath your finger pads.

“I must admit I am not as experienced as other men my age.” Aemond whispers his confession into the dimly, candle lit room.

“I will teach you.” She replies in a low rasp. From then on make sure to take it slow.

Aemond is different from Viserys, you can´t help but notice. All Viserys did was take. Even things that you never would have wanted him to take under any other circumstance, without any regard for your pleasure, let alone your well-being. The only care you received from him were the gifts he sent the following day. Alongside a tea, that as the maid told you, was brewed with the most care by a maester. Aemond on the other hand was gentle and sweet, yet passionate. He asked if what he was doing made you feel good and let you guide him to were you wanted him. He beckons words of praise from your lips continuously and once you had both finished, he holds you close until you both drift off to sleep. Still the image of Viserys doing unspeakable to you haunted you in your dreams that night.

It is a wonder that your marriage stays a secret for as long as it does, which is not very long at all.

However the day of Aegon´s coronation everything goes south fast. The day had been a mess from the moment it started. Beginning with the common folk being rushed into the sept almost forcibly, to Rhaenys hurting gods know how many during her escape on Meleys and now this. Your new husband and you had been called to Alicent right after the end of the ceremony, where she questioned your place at his side for everyone to see. The queen dowager was pacing furiously in front of you and Aemond, trying to process what her son had just told her, while Otto Hightower´s face was expressing only one readable emotion. A very clear distaste pulled the corners of his mouth downwards.

“I cannot believe this. This level of defiance is unheard of. Truly, this is something I would have expected from your brother, not you. And to think of the shame. First Viserys parades her around, bringing shame and humiliation to our family. Your father willingly put my reputation at risk. And now you wish to do the same. Despite seeing how her presence has affected us for years.” Alicent´s words are broken up by unbelieving chuckles. To say she wasn´t happy about what the two of you had done was a harsh understatement. Not that either of you had expected her to be.

“Mother…” Aemond tries to get a word in to calm her down, but it is to no use as she continues to speak in a frenzy.

“Not to speak of the fact that it was entirely improper for her to be alone in a room with any man. We thought more of you, Aemond.” Otto finally gets a word in between Alicent´s enraged rant. His voice is equally as cold as the look in his blue eyes and it sends a shiver down your spine, where one of Aemond´s protective hands rests.

“I have heard enough. Did you stop to think once that she might have done this solely to keep her non existing claim on our money? That she does not truly love you, but the power that is attached to your position as a prince of the seven kingdoms?” She massages her temples, as the crease between her eyebrows deepens in exasperation.

“With all due respect, your majesty, but I fail to see how you are able to speak about my feelings towards your son. As you have never truly looked inside my mind. Or spend a day in my body. I admit that what I did with the late king was wrong, however he decided to treat me the way he did himself. I did not ask to be given gifts or be paraded around.” You finally find your words again to defend yourself.

The newfound courage is met by an outraged look on both the Queen dowagers and the hands face and surprise by Aemond.

“The love I hold for prince Aemond is much bigger than the love the two of you could ever be capable of feeling for anything.” Your voice raises and for a moment you aren´t even sure if all you did this for is your own selfish gain. For as the words leave your mouth you feel your heart beat higher and a warmth spread throughout your entire body.

You realize you had felt like this for the past days. Ever since Aemond and you had consummated your marriage you felt your cheeks heat up whenever he so much as laid his eyes upon you.

“She is right, mother. Whatever I do with my life is none of your concern. I am a man grown now and I love her. That is all that matters.” Aemond speaks up as well now. Judging by the reaction it gets him, it is the first time he has spoken up against his mother and grandsire.

“Aemond…” Alicent tries to say something though she has to cut herself short due to still bring speechless at the whole situation. Otto however does not.

“You will stop with this nonsense this instant. On the morrow we will get this marriage annulled. You will get married to Floris Baratheon as you have promised Lord Borros and you better make sure we will never have to see this… harlots face in the keep or in King´s landing ever again. Have I made myself understood?”

The way the hand towered over you from his height alone would be impressive enough to shut you up under any other circumstance, but right now is not the time to stand down. If you aren´t sure of it before, Aemond´s headstrong gaze further assures you of it. Even though his hands tremble even worse than they had in your first night together, the palm of his hand that holds yours starts to sweat and he swallows heavily.

“I will do no such thing. I understand you are angry, mother. I know you cannot understand me for the choices I made, but I do not care. For the first time in my life I am happy. Truly happy and understood. And you can say or do naught to change this. I will stay with my wife.”

You squeeze Aemond´s hand reassuringly while he speaks. The look you give him is filled to the brim with gratitude. You let your husband lead you out of the room. Your gaze hardening consistently as a realization strikes you.

No matter your or Aemonds true feelings, all of them would only ever see you for your mistakes. To the whole of the red keep you would always be the woman that king Viserys used to embarrass Alicent Hightower and now to break the promise towards Borros Baratheon. You would always be the other woman.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

256 notes · View notes

longliveblackness · 3 months

Text

Martin Luther King Jr. was Arrested 29 times for these so-called crimes. Here are just a few occasions when he was arrested and why:

January 26, 1956 — He was arrested in Montgomery, Alabama as part of a "Get Tough" campaign to intimidate the bus boycotters. Four days later, on January 30, his home was bombed.

March 22, 1956 — King, Rosa Parks and more than 100 others were arrested on charges of organizing the Montgomery Bus Boycott in protest of Parks' treatment.

September 3, 1958 — While attempting to attend the arraignment of a man accused of assaulting Abernathy, King is arrested outside Montgomery's Recorder's Court and charged with loitering. He is released a short time later on $100 bond.

September 5, 1958 — King was convicted of disobeying a police order and fined $14. He chooses to spend 14 days in jail, but is soon released when Police Commissioner Clyde Sellers pays his fine.

October 19, 1960 — He was arrested in Atlanta, Georgia during a sit-in while waiting to be served at a restaurant. He was sentenced to four months in jail, but after intervention by then presidential candidate John Kennedy and his brother Robert Kennedy, he was released.

May 4, 1961 — He was arrested in Albany, Georgia for obstructing the sidewalk and parading without a permit.

April 12, 1963 — He and Ralph Abernathy were arrested in Birmingham, Alabama for demonstrating without a permit.

During his time in jail, he he wrote what is now known as his historic "Letter from Birmingham Jail."

June 11, 1964 — He was arrested for protesting for the integration of public accommodations in St. Augustine, Florida.

February 2, 1965 — He was arrested in Selma, Alabama during a voting rights demonstration, but the demonstrations continued leading to demonstrators being beaten at the Pettus Bridge by state highway patrolmen and sheriff's deputies.

Legendary civil rights activist Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spent a night in the jail on a trespassing charge after he and others were arrested after they attempted to eat in the Monson Restaurant on June 11, 1964. The arrest was reported in The St. Augustine Record and is included in the state legislative committee's investigative report, "Racial & Civil Disorders in St. Augustine," February 1965.

•••

Martin Luther King Jr. fue arrestado 29 veces por estos supuestos “crímenes”. Estas son sólo algunas ocasiones en las que fue arrestado y el por qué:

26 de enero de 1956: Fue arrestado en Montgomery, Alabama, como parte de una campaña "Get Tough (Ponerse Firme)" para intimidar a los boicoteadores de autobuses. Cuatro días después, el 30 de enero, su casa fue bombardeada.

22 de marzo de 1956: King, Rosa Parks y más de 100 personas más fueron arrestados acusados de organizar el boicot a los autobuses de Montgomery. Esto en protesta por el trato que recibió Parks.

3 de septiembre de 1958: Mientras intentaba asistir a la lectura de cargos de un hombre acusado de agredir a Abernathy, King es arrestado frente al Tribunal de Registro de Montgomery y acusado de holgazanería. Poco tiempo después fue liberado, luego de pagar una fianza de 100 dólares.

5 de septiembre de 1958: King fue declarado culpable de desobedecer una orden policial y multado con 14 dólares. Eligió pasar 14 días en la cárcel, pero pronto lo liberan luego de que el comisionado de policía Clyde Sellers pagara la multa.

19 de octubre de 1960: Fue arrestado en Atlanta, Georgia, durante una sentada mientras esperaba que lo atendieran en un restaurante. Fue sentenciado a cuatro meses de cárcel, pero tras la intervención del entonces candidato presidencial John Kennedy y su hermano Robert Kennedy, fue puesto en libertad.

4 de mayo de 1961: Fue arrestado en Albany, Georgia, por obstruir la acera y desfilar sin permiso.

12 de abril de 1963: Él y Ralph Abernathy fueron arrestados en Birmingham, Alabama, por realizar una protesta sin permiso.

Durante su estancia en la cárcel, escribió lo que ahora se conoce como su histórica "Carta desde la cárcel de Birmingham".

11 de junio de 1964: Fue arrestado por protestar por la integración de alojamientos públicos en St. Augustine, Florida.

2 de febrero de 1965: Fue arrestado en Selma, Alabama, durante una protesta por el derecho al voto, pero las protestas continuaron y los protestantes fueron golpeados en el puente Pettus por patrulleros de carreteras estatales y agentes del sheriff.

El legendario activista de derechos civiles, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., pasó una noche en la cárcel acusado de invasión de propiedad privada después de que él y otros fueran arrestados después de intentar comer en el restaurante Monson el 11 de junio de 1964. El arresto fue informado en el periódico The St. Augustine Record y está incluido en el informe de investigación del comité legislativo estatal, "Desórdenes Civiles y Raciales en St. Augustine", febrero de 1965.

120 notes · View notes

bohemian-nights · 1 year

Text

Arlī(Anew)-Chapter 4

Word Count: ~5,431 words

Rating: 18+

Warning ⚠️: Uncle/niece incest (mild smut)

Description: “She has yet to give you a child.” Naerys hand flew to her stomach. Peering through the crack in the door that Daemon had left to take a look to see the scene that was playing out in their chamber.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

————————————-🐉————————————

116 AC-Kings Landing

“That was then Rhaenyra,” Daemon's quiet voice could be heard from their solar, awakening Naerys from her restless nap. She had tried to sleep but had not been able to find an agreeable position in which she could take her mid-day slumber. Instead, she lies in the realm between reality and dreams. Constantly drifting in and out of consciousness.

In the fortnight they had spent at the capital it seemed as if Naerys could not get enough rest. She woke up tired and went to bed in the same state. Her days had become a monotonous string of court proceedings that she struggled to find her footing.

The sun set and the sun rose and a new day of court would begin. An endless parade of pageantry and tittering empty-headed smiles. The young princess longed for the quiet solitude of Dragonstone. Some nights she would lie awake going through every interaction she had that day.

Laena, her husband, and the rest of house Velaryon were stuck on Driftmark. A coming storm had made their journey to Kings Landing impossible. Alicent and Rhaenyra had taken it upon themselves to entertain her in her cousin's absence. If it was not Alicent with her constant teas, sewing circles, and worrying looks it was Rhaenyra and her jibs. Searching her face to see which one would hit its target.

Naerys' husband's general absence had not helped matters. She knew that her uncle had not meant to neglect her. Perhaps neglect wasn’t even the right word for it. The simple fact of the matter was that duty had called. One could hardly say no to the king. Least of all when he is your elder brother.

Daemon was back in the Viserys good graces. All was forgiven since the debacle of their wedding had put further strain on the brother's relationship. Daemon had been invited to attend small council meetings. Lord Strong surprisingly did not object to her husband’s presence on the small council. The lord undoubtedly wanted to keep the peace and was willing to make sacrifices to do so. The rest of the council had followed the hand’s lead.

The rogue prince's seat at the meetings was in an unofficial capacity of course, but some position on the council would no doubt be offered to him once more. He would take it. Daemon was never one for the shadows. Dragonstone was less than stimulating to the mind. At court he was in his element once more.

Naerys herself had been offered to attend a council meeting, but Rhaenyra had put her off from taking up the offer. “Naerys will be bored out of her mind uncle. Wouldn’t you aunt?” It was said with the same condescending tone that she always spoke with. The remark stung, but not as much as her other taunts.

“Children are a joy.” Rhaenyra had found her bullseyes. As Rhaenyra cooed over her black-haired sons, Naerys had to hold back from snapping at the woman. The realm's delight had gotten with child without having to bat so much as an eye. She had given birth to two healthy sons. Two healthy heirs. Not all women were so lucky.

Naerys apparent lack of children had been a source of gossip throughout the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had seen to it. Among the ladies at court, the detail of her empty womb was a favorite topic of conversation. She’s barren. She can not give him children. Poor thing. Perhaps the prince will take a lover again. The young princess would have faltered under the growing weight of the chatter had she not suspected that their efforts to have an heir might yet be fulfilled.

“It wasn’t very long ago.” Rhaenyra’s high-pitched whisperings interrupted the younger girl from her memories. Bringing her back to her present reality, Naerys reached for the robe hanging off her changing room's screen to cover her nakedness. The capital was much warmer than Dragonstone. Even when Daemon did not join her in sleep, she remained comfortable throughout the nights.

“She has yet to give you a child.” Naerys hand flew to her stomach. Peering through the crack in the door that Daemon had left to take a look to see the scene that was playing out in their chamber. Her husband stood by a freshly lit fire with a drink in his hand. Rhaenyra’s back was turned towards her as she faced their uncle.

“So has Laenor.” Naerys could see Rhaenyra visibly wincing from where she stood. Her body jumped slightly at their uncle's words. Daemon looked unbothered, almost bored with the flow of conversation as he swirled the amber liquid in his goblet before taking another slow sip. He had not taken his eyes off the firelight in their chambers.

“She may never give you heirs.” A sneer was evident in her voice. Her spine stilling, holding her head high once more. “What good is my cousin, a Valyrian bride, good for if she has not done her duty to you?” It was a bluff. Naerys could not be put aside so easily. The king would not allow it. Both Ser Vaemond and Lord Corlys would raise hell if an accident were to occur. She was the blood of old Valyria, not a common Andal lady.

“She’s my wife Rhaenyra.” He had lowered his voice. Daemon had finally turned around to glare down at the realm's delight. The dying light of the day coupled with the glow from the fire cast his eyes in a tenebrous haze. “You will do well to remember that.”

“Lady Rhea Royce was your wife as well.” Rhaenyra let out a bitter laugh as she continued on. Unconcerned with the shadows that crossed their uncle's face. “What did you call her? Your bronze bitch. Have you forgotten her already?”

It was easy enough to forget that Daemon had ever been married to another. Her husband never brought up his ill-fated union with the vale woman. Naerys had never even met the woman. She only existed in the outer reaches of her mind as a faceless memory.

“You promised me and yet you married her.” Her cousin's anger and desperation had grown into something else. Rhaenyra grabbed Daemon. Pulling the tall man into her space. “You promised me.” Her husband did not move from her cousin's grasp. Daemon began to stroke her forearm. The touch was intimate. As if they had done it a million times before. Rhaenyra’s words echoed in Naerys' mind.

Naerys did not know what the two got up to during her visits or what happened between the two before their respective marriages. She would not ask now. The past lay in the past. It was best kept that way. Daemon was ever the attentive husband these days. She would not bring up old misdeeds, but it seemed that these wounds appeared whether she wanted them to or not.

“Rhaenyra.” It was said with a sigh. The venom was gone from his gaze. Her husband closed his eyes briefly as if to gather his bearings. His fingers continued their descent across Rhaenyra’s arm. Naerys could feel her blood begin to boil. She was grateful that no objects lay within her reach or else she would have hurled them at her uncle's head.

“Kosti sagon biare kesīr.” Daemon did not reply. His fingers had finally ceased their movement. He cast his violet eyes towards the door where his wife hid behind. Naerys froze hoping he had not seen her.

“Would you abandon Ser Harwin so easily?” Naerys could see her husband leaning down as if to whisper a poorly kept secret in her cousin's ear. Rhaenyra had taken a lover herself. She was not left without companionship. She found her own distractions.

“I had no choice.” Rhaenyra sputtered at her uncle's question. Her desperation returned as she reached out to bring him near her.” I was alone. We both were.” Excuses fell from her lips, but came upon deaf ears. Daemon spurred his niece’s advances this time. Moving further away from her grasp back towards the fire.

“I am not alone Rhaenyra.” Daemon turned his back fully towards the fire to face Rhaenyra, but he did not look at his niece as he had said the words. Naerys felt her husband's gaze lock onto her. A grin spread across his face which seemed to grow when he saw the fury within his wife.

Rhaenyra had yet to see her, but the woman was burning up with her own barely contained-rage. She almost fluttered past her as she made her way to exit their chambers, but her lilac eyes finally landed on her cousin. The princess yanked open the iron-framed oak door, bringing in a draft, to face her cousin. Naerys pulled her robe tighter around her body to ward off the chill.

“He never stays in one bed for long.” Rhaenyra’s eyes cast down at Naerys stomach with a mirthless sneer. The older girl bent down slightly to spit her next words in her cousin's ear. “If he ever puts a babe in you he’ll just move on to the next one.” The older girl cast one last look at their uncle, before storming from the room.

A wave of dizziness came over Naerys. Daemon was by her side with surprising speed. His smirk had fallen as he helped her into his chair, seating her on his lap before handing her a goblet of water fussing over her as if he were a mother hen. “I’ve sent for Maester Orlys.” He urged her to drink the cooling liquid. Her anger at her husband faded with each sip. “We are not going.”

Naerys had nearly forgotten Jacaerys name-day feast. Rhaenyra had pushed it back as far as she could, but now that Ser Harwin and the Velaryon party had finally arrived the feast was to take place that night.

“We must.” They hadn’t much of a choice. Their absence at the festivities would be noted. Daemon may not care what the “sheep” gossiped about, but Naerys would not add fuel to the growing pyre. They still had to do their duty.

Naerys made ready to climb off her husband’s lap though her Daemon would not release her. He merely shushed her as he brought the back of his hand up to stroke his niece's sable cheek. He gave her a dark look before he leaned in, catching her open mouth by surprise. Their pink tongues danced tangling with one another briefly before her uncle pulled away.

“Ao issi issa vys issa byka mēre.” Daemon buried his silver head in her neck. He was breathing her in as he softly petted the silver coils at her nape. Naerys let herself be fawned over. Her husband's words and gentle ministrations soothed the last remnants of the dull ache she had felt moments ago. “You mean more to me than you could possibly know.”

It occurred to her that for all of his bolstering and saccharine remarks Daemon had never spoken those three little words. They had been married for a year now and yet in some ways Naerys still felt like she did not know her husband at all of his true opinion of her.

Was a man like her husband even capable of such feelings? Was he even capable of feeling that way toward her? Love was not a requirement of marriage, but Naerys was certain that she carried half of him inside of her. Surely that meant something. Was she to share a child with a man who ran hot one minute and cold?

“Get dressed sweetling.” Daemon snapped Naerys from her thoughts with a start. Releasing her from his lap with a final kiss on her temple before turning quickly to head to his own antechamber to do the same.

The rogue prince did not stop to check back on her, but his wife did not miss the glance he gave her before he had left to change. Nor did she miss when he hesitated to leave her in the first place. Naerys knew that she was burning under his fire, but perhaps he burned in hers as well. Or perhaps she was too hopeful. Believing in fairytales, words made of wind, and gallant knights where there were none to be found.

If it was something Naerys mother's family were known for it was how to make an entrance. In Velaryon fashion, they arrived late. They were the last ones to arrive at the Red Keep for the little prince's festivities and what an entrance they had made. Particularly Laena’s girls.

The little darlings had stolen the show. Baela and Rhaena were not yet half a year old and yet their presence dazzled the court. They were small little things that had inherited their mother's silver waves and the lilac eyes of house Velaryon. Sans their coloring, which was all Ser Harwin, they looked like the spitting image of their mother.

Naerys held onto the belief that babies could change until she saw Luke and Jace near their sire. Laenor’s “sons” had not a stitch of their “father” in them, nor their mother for that matter. One had only to look at Ser Harwin to see who fathered them.

Naerys had not meant to ambush her cousin, but Laena had arrived too late for a private chat over tea as she had wanted. She and Daemon were officially due to depart for Dragonstone in the coming days. Regardless of whether they made that journey together or not, the feast was likely Naerys' only chance to learn the truth of the situation.

Her cousins had not denied the affair. “My daughter will be queen,” Laena smiled at the passing ladies of the court as they took a turn about the room. “My youngest will likely be the lady of Driftmark.” She was a daughter of house Velaryon and a dragonrider. She held her head high as they passed by her husband. Ser Harwin smiled at his wife, bouncing one of their daughters in his hold. “I am happy with what I have dear cousin.”

Naerys could not understand how her cousin could be so calm in the face of everything. Laena had the patience of a septa. The young princess did not believe she could endure being around her husband’s mistress day in and out, much less embrace the situation with open arms. She would have grown mad by now, but her oldest cousin possessed a quiet acceptance that was lacking in even those twice her age.

Princess Rhaenys bristled whenever Rhaenyra or her sons came near. She seemed to avoid her good son altogether. Leaving for the opposite side of the room when the captain of the city watch ventured too close to her. Her behavior was a stark contrast to how her husband approached the subject of their grandsons and their sire

Lord Corlys for all intents and purposes appeared unconcerned. Baela, Laena’s oldest, was already betrothed to the future king of the seven kingdoms. From Laena’s own mouth Rhaena would be betrothed to the heir of her father's seat. As long as her uncle's blood sat upon the Driftwood throne he would not deny the strong boys the privilege of the Velaryon name.

Naerys' other uncle was a different matter. If there was any question of Ser Vaemond’s views on the future king and the Lord of Driftmark one need only to see the sneers the dark man gave his good niece and her sons to decipher his true opinion.

Laena was called away to deal with a teething Rhaena. Naerys was left alone. Daemon stood on the opposite side of the hall with Lord Boremund and her aunt Rhaenys. Her husband met her eyes, giving her a smirk. She might have gone over to join them, but though he was good-natured she always found the storm lord too brutish for her tastes.

“You glow my princess.” A foreign voice emerged from the shadows. Naerys turned to its source to come face to face with a ghost. Lords and Ladies gilded around the great hall with practiced ease. Not paying any attention to them. Naerys wondered if the woman was a figment of her imagination, but she knew that her eyes did not deceive her when Rhaenyra stared at her from where she sat at the high table with a mocking leer.

Lady Mysaria stood as an unnaturally pale thin creature cloaked in a hooded robe. Naerys had only seen her husband's former mistress from a distance. She had been a child then, but The woman had not changed much from her memory.

“Thank you.” Naerys did not know how else to respond. It was best to take her words at face value than see them as something more. The woman reached out a milky hand to brush her stomach. Her hands were cold. Cold enough to feel through the layers of dark gown she wore. Naerys tried not to flinch at her touch. Something told her not to falter under the pale woman’s stare.

“You have not told him have you?” The white worm continued to caress her stomach. Naerys dared not to breathe. She feared that if she did her body would give into the cold. “Children are fickle creatures. A blessing from the Gods that can be so easily taken away before they are even born.” She smiled and the chill spread. “Fear not princess, your husband shall have his heir.” Mysaria turned her violet gaze on the other side of the room towards where the princess had last seen her husband.

Naerys did not want to follow it, but she could not resist. Lord Boremund and Rhaenys had left from Daemon's side. Their presence had been replaced by a visiting Lysenni lady. Her white hair gleamed and reflected off of the hall’s ember glow. The lady had her hand resting on Daemon’s arm.

The rogue prince leaned into her hold bending his silver head so that she may whisper in his ear. Whatever she had said made the two descend into laughter. Naerys felt her face heat up. She tried to contain her fire, but she felt herself spiraling at the next words the white worm's breathed into her ear. “His heir and more to spare.” Mysaria was not known for her gift of prophecy, but she had known Daemon.

He will get bored of you. Rhaenyra’s unspoken words rang around in her head. She could no longer hear the noise of the festivities around her. Daemon had his fill. Naerys was just a plaything to him. A useful necessity that he was bound to, but the bonds of marriage meant little to her husband. He was back to where he wanted to be. He can not survive in one bed alone. It did not matter what pretty words he muttered to her in the dark of their chambers. Daemon was not built for it.

“Are you well princess?” Ser Gwayne had removed himself from his post and was by her side before she could blink. Holding her forearm up with practiced ease. Concern was written plainly across his face. Lady Mysaria had slinked back to whatever hole she had crawled out from, but the princess could still feel the chill she had left behind. Naerys felt eyes watching her every move. She could barely breathe under their stares.

“Would you escort me to my seat Ser?” Naerys did not have to explain she would not make it there herself. The Hightower knight was not the only one who had noticed her distress. Daemon was thundering across the Red Keeps great hall. The fury of the dragon blazing in his eyes.

Naerys met Ser Gwayne’s dark eyes before nodding her head in the direction of the oncoming storm. I do not want him whisking me off somewhere to simper out more empty words. The knight gave her a small smile in understanding. Taking her arm to escort her into the crowd, but Daemon had made their way towards them before they could.

“Thank you Ser Gwanye, but your assistance is no longer required.” Daemon sneered at the younger man. His empty sword hand twitches at his side. Viserys had not allowed her husband to bring Dark Sister to the feast. Only the guards had a need for weapons. Naerys thanked the Gods for her uncle’s foresight.

“I will go when the princess dismisses me.” The Hightower knight stood his ground this time. His dark eyes stared her husband down. The two were at a crossroad. Naerys wondered if the two would cause a scene.

“She is my wife Ser. You will release her this instant or you will not see to the end of this feast your dear sister has so dutifully planned.” Daemon's grip tightened on her. Only relaxing it when she let out a wince. Naerys would not meet his eyes. Her husband had no right to his foul temper. He had embarrassed her enough for one night. She would no longer placate him.

“Aunt,” a small voice called from the edge of the crowd. Aemond stood beckoning Naerys over to where he and his siblings sat on the far end of the high table. Naerys had never been more grateful for the distraction. Ser Gwayne let her go upon hearing his nephew, but Daemon would not fold.

“Our nephew calls for me my lord.” Naerys felt herself burning up as she finally lifted her head to gaze up at her husband. “May I go to him or are you mistrustful of little boys as well as the knights of your brother’s City Watch?” She expected her husband, but instead, he began to drag her to the king's youngest children.

They passed by the Lysenni lady Daemon had been enchanted with moments before. “Princess.” It was said with a curtesy and a polite smile. One which Naerys did not return. How could she expect her to when she had so blatantly made a pass at her husband with her in the very same room?

“She’d sooner take you into her bed than see me in it, you spoiled thing.” Daemon went to caress her arm, but the princess jerked from his touch. Her husband’s boldness would never cease to astound her. Naerys dug her heels into the floor. A move that she would regret as he threw her over his shoulder. Some of her uncle’s visiting guests looked their way, but the lords and ladies of the court were far used to the rogue prince's antics.

“Are you ill aunt?” Aemond asked with a frown as Naerys' uncle deposited her in an empty seat to Helaena’s left. Daemon moved to sit in the chair to her right, next to his brother's second son.

“Your aunt is fine.” Daemon placed a kiss on the back of her hand before setting their joint hands on the oak table. “She’s just tired.” Naerys sunk her nails into the back of her uncle's hand. It was not enough to draw blood, but it did cause the prince to grunt in discomfort.

She challenged her husband with a raised eyebrow. The man relented with a smirk breathing a threat into his niece’s ear. “Behave or you will not be able to walk tomorrow.” Naerys released her claws with a glare.

The children seemed to pay no mind to the older prince and princesses' heated exchanges. Aemond began to prattle on about some Valyrian text he had come across to his “nuncle.” Aemond and Damon's relationship had improved greatly. It was in no small part to Naerys.

With Naerys' increasing dizzy spells Daemon had forbidden her from flying alone. The royal couple would take turns riding Caraxes and Silverwing together. Carving out some time in the day to visit their dragons. By the second week of their stay in the capital, Aemond would often wait for them at the Dragon Pit entrance. Trying to catch a glimpse of their dragons with wonder in his eyes.

The young prince had no dragon of his own. His egg had long since turned to stone. Aegon had already begun to tease his brother about his dragonless state. His siblings' dragons were too small to ride, but they would soon even little Daeron would become Dragonriders while their brother remained without so much as a dragon to call his own.

The queen was not overly fond of her children’s dragons, but she understood the importance of the bond between a Targaryen and their dragon. She knew how her second son longed for an end to his dragonless state. It took little to convince Alicent to allow him the privilege of a dragon ride. Daemon had not been able to say no either after she had ambushed him while he was still coming down from his high one night.

“I would be grateful kepus if you— if you were to take Aemond with you and Caraxes on your next ride.” The two lay panting in each other’s embrace. Naerys combed her fingers through silver locks as he lay on top of her. The princess winced as her husband replaced his spent cock with his fingers. “Kostilus kepus.”

Daemon's eyes remained glazed over as he watched his digits move in and out of her spasming cunt. Fucking his cum back into his niece while his thumb drew small circles on her clit. “Ao issi sīr gevie byka mēre.” The rogue prince suddenly removed his fingers from within her as the princess was on the crest of another release. Naerys whined at her ruined climax, but her husband only shushed her. “Ao drējī issi vēttan syt issa”

Some of his seed leaked out wetting the silk sheets below, but the lovers paid it no mind as Daemon brought his fingers to his niece's waiting mouth. Naerys eagerly lapped at their combined spends while her husband gave into her demands.

The boy had been ecstatic when Daemon had helped him climb upon Caraxes back. Naerys watched them from the dragon pit entrance with a less than enthused Ser Criston who acted more like the boy's father than his mother's guard as they made their descent into the horizon. Aemond took to the sky’s with a fever she had not seen apart from Daemon and Laena.

Naerys reached for the goblet of water that was placed in front of her. Most of the nausea she had felt in the past had dissipated, but the dizziness remained. Helaena looked up at her with a smile. She was a sweet quiet girl, if not a bit spacey. Alicent’s daughter placed a small hand on her belly with a wistful smile.

“Do not fret aunt. My sister shall be healthy and beautiful.” Dragon dreams. Naerys did not know what to say. Daemon narrowed his eyes at their niece's words, but he made no comment. Only Aegon would grace the table with his thoughts on his sister's riddles.

“Mother isn’t pregnant you nitwit.” Aemond looked as if he wanted to throttle his own brother. Even Helaena had turned her nose up at the unruly boy. Aegon’s ill-mannered behavior remained unchecked by both the king and his mother. His sire seemed to barely acknowledge his existence while Alicent remained at a loss for how to best deal with it.

The king made his way to retire for the evening. He had stayed far longer than he usually did at the feasts of late. Those seated at the high table rose with him as was customary before Viserys would depart. Naerys tried to rise with the rest of the table, but Daemon rested his hand on her shoulder to stop her. As she looked at the pale hand Naerys felt what little was left of her restraint vanish.

She no longer cared if she made a scene. Let the court see how the rogue prince viewed her. The princess managed to shake free of her husband's hold. In her haste, she rose too quickly. Tripping over the leg of her chair she had pushed too far back, Naerys felt herself lose her balance. Her husband caught her before she could hit the Great Hall’s stone floors.

Daemon's voice was the first Naerys heard when she returned to consciousness. She felt sluggish and drowsy. The princess spied from the corner of her eyes one of Maester Orlys’ tinctures on her vanity. Whatever the kindly man had given her had a foul aftertaste.

“How long have you known sweetling?” Daemon did not look angry as he sat in a chair that had been placed by their bed dragging the back of his hand softly across her cheek. He in fact reminded her of a kicked puppy. His gaze was as tender as his touch. The rogue prince looked more like a boy of ten than a man grown. Naerys supposed that was really what he was underneath his bravado.

“When Alicent first invited me to tea.” She felt a weight lift off her shoulder at the revelation. Naerys had her suspicions before, but she had not been sure until Alicent had made it plain to her.

“Ser Gwayne was only trying to help.” Daemon winced. He should have been there for her, not the Hightower knight, but he would apologize for jumping to conclusions. It was not in his nature to express regret for his actions. Naerys understood why. Their fires burned too hot to allow them to. “How far along did Maester Orlys say I was?”

“Three moons.” The baby would arrive in time before the new year. Enough time to get her affairs in order. Enough time to travel to Dragonstone and then Driftmark if she so wished. Naerys wondered if she could fly there now. Daemon answered that question for her.

“We can journey back home.” He gave her a small smile. Petting her silver twists as if she were a child. Her handmaids must have come in at some point to braid up her hair. Something that she would be thankful for in the morning.

“You may stay.” Daemon began to tense up at her words. She reached out in search of the scars on her husband's neck. Stroking the rough skin with a soft hand. It was funny enough, but Naerys felt much calmer now. Looking back on the day the princess had realized that she had let others draw conclusions for her now. Conclusions that only one man could provide.

“I will go to Driftmark.” She tried to sound absent-minded as she said it. Continuing to trace over her husband's scars, threading her fingers into his hair. A storm cloud came over her husband. Naerys could not contain her smile at seeing her uncle's reaction.

Daemon noticed it, but he made no comment as he fell to his knees to kiss the top of her crown before burrowing his silver head into her neck. “I am yours you stubborn girl. I am no one, but yours as you are mine.” The man was exhausted. A day of pointless fighting had worn them both out. “We will go to Dragonstone. I’ve had enough of this city and it’s gossip.”

“I could lose it.” Daemon tensed up once more underneath her fingers. He removed himself from her neck. Violet eyes met a pair of amethyst orbs. It was bad luck to speak of such things. Especially in the early days, but the thought gnawed at her. So many things could go wrong. Naerys never considered herself a very lucky person.

“Ao issi daor nykeā jaes kepus.” Daemon was a man. He behaved as if he were a dragon, but he was still a man and Naerys was a mere woman. They were flesh, blood, and bone. They could not bend fate to suit them. Mortals had their limitations. The king talked of prophecies, but Daemon was little better with his blood obsession.

“Your mother doubts you byka zaldrīzes.” Her husband bent down to place a kiss on her still flat belly. “She worries too much.” Lifting up to face her once more Daemon grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. Lending her the strength that had left from her body. “Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys. Iksā emare ñuha riña. Īlva riña. Iksi jāre lenton.”

Naerys was too tired to argue with her husband. There was still plenty to sort out, but the day had been long. The princess let herself be petted as she drifted off into a dreamless wonder. She would worry about their future in the morning when her head was clear.

Translations:

Kosti sagon biare kesīr: We can be happy here

kepus: uncle

Ao issi issa vys issa byka mēre: You are my world my little one

Kostilus kepus: Please uncle

Ao issi sīr gevie byka mēre: You are so beautiful little one

Ao drējī issi vēttan syt issa: You truly are made for me

Ao issi daor nykeā jaes kepus: You are not a god uncle

byka zaldrīzes: little dragon

Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys. Iksā emare ñuha riña. Īlva riña. Iksi jāre lenton: You are my wife. You are having my child. Our child. We are going home.

Ao3 Link:

Tags:

@misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade

#daemon targaryen x targaryen!oc #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x black!oc #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #the rouge prince #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #hotd x fem!reader #hotd x oc #houseofthedragon #hotd fanfiction #daemon x reader #daemon x oc #bnhotdfic

564 notes · View notes

themotherofblood · 10 months

Text

CHAPTER 3 | RIVER OF GOLD | The Journey | T.L x Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2

tw: mentions of rape and murder

~ the wedding was charming, if a little gauche ~

"My new home— it doesn't feel much of a home. It is foreign, I am foreign. I see it in the way the attendants glance at me, mayhaps my wild hair. A mythical creature trapped in a fine gown made of crimson velvet and gold. The beaches however are beautiful, sometimes I take off my boots and stand at the shore; salt water cools my feet and just for a moment. I don't miss home."

The journey had been swift, the preparations made through the evening with rows of wheelhouses and bannermen on horses, a joy parade to have Tywin lead his young wife to his ancestral seat. Ravens were sent hours before the blazing afternoon sun, to have your chambers thoroughly prepared and unpacked with your belongings. It appears Lady Genna Lannister had taken personal initiative to gather a toehold of handmaidens and a personal secretary for your coffers.

Your sisters had been tearful, puffed-mouthed poppets clinging to your skits with their dolls in hand. Nyela had fixated a minute glare upon your husband as he conversed with his brother in the Great Hall. The household staff gathered to see off their darling lady and liege lord.

"You swore you would take us with you," Ellia whimpers, "we supposed to visit Uncle Doran."

"We were supposed to," you correct, taking a piece of her loose behind her ear "I'm sorry darling." You engulfed her, the scent of lily soap so strong, it felt like engulfing your mother.

Nyela still clung to your back, small eyes—hooded and glaring at Tywin. When he turned to look at you, an amused frown settled upon his forehead as he looked to your hip.

"You're our sister, you stay with us." She grumbles, if her tiny ineffective fists could do anything, she wished she could drag you to your chambers and lock you in.

"I will write to Doran and Oberyn, they will come get you. Alright?" You crouched to meet their eyes, holding on one shoulder each.

Ellia, still pouting, buried her head in your shoulder, nuzzling the motherly warmth she often tried to find in your arms. Your brother walked over, having taken your brother from his nursemaid's arms and walked over to you. The boy, barely over two summers, had not a clue of why his siblings lamented for you. A stranger yesterday and now a stranger today, you held his little fist. Tracing over his face, the feathery touch of your fingers tickling at his skin making him giggle.

"I'd be a stranger to you the next we meet," you cooed as his tiny fist curled around your finger, babbling away at your hair sat by your chest. "You be good."

Your brother Olvyar turned to you next, a brotherly smile curling in his lips and eyes covered in guilt. You knew he felt terrible for stopping you from running, but in truth he was saving you from the cruel wrath of your father's pride—you were not his pride, even with his flesh and blood, you never would be. The one hard bone your father swallowed, even though Olvyar was his brother's seed sired by your mother. He was a son, a young man knighted and proud.

Olvyar for the longest time wanted nothing to do with your father's estate nor Westerlands politics, if he could. He too would have abandoned your father for adventure at sea with Oberyn, however seeing as though the only mere morsel of affection within Loren Maerilys was for him, you'd told him. Standing on your toes and pinching your older brother's teen puffy cheeks.

"You take care of us, you would be the lord of Deep Den." You hissed at him, hoping your brother would see reason beyond his boyish dreams

When you looked into his eyes, your own was looking back at you, just far more grief-stricken as yours were glossy. You opened your mouth, your form of a farewell was to be another lecture to your elder brother. He however chased your word back into your mouth as he opened his.

"I will look after them, and write to you at every turn of the moon." He reiterates, tilting his head just so as he looks down at you. "I will take care of them, I will be the Lord of Deep Den."

You held his arm, sternly nodding at him before pulling him to a half embrace. Squeezing his larger body so tight he had to set little Loren down to reciprocate.

"Don't let them be afraid, Olvyar. Don't let them be alone." You whispered, closing your eyes tight to fight away the tears threatening to fall.

"Never."

"My lady... it is time," Tywin called, standing with his hands clasped in front of him with a coaxing quirk to his brow and a forever stern disposition.

You bowed your head, to use your brother's chest as a shield as you wiped the salted drops away from your lash line before straightening yourself.

Dressed in a comfortable gown, devoid of fastened corsets or itchy gold hems to travel with ease through the eight hours of journey to Clegane Keep and then after a respite another four hours to Casterly Rock—your new home.

You offered not one look to your father as you walked out of the Great Hall holding onto both your sister's hands on either end. Your brother following behind as you were ushered to your carriage, you gave Deep Den one more glance; a superstitious tendency as you called to Mother Rhoyne for protection before taking the footmen's hand as he helped you into the sizable carriage. Reined in by eight horses, the wheelhouse was rather extravagant for such a short journey.

You settled in for a moment, sighing and resting your head against the plush velvet padded walls inside the carriage, your new home— you were married.

Perhaps even your bedding had made it so anxiously apparent on your skin that you no longer belonged to yourself, but to the crimsons and golds of house Lannister, to Tywin—

He had been rather aloof to your presence since the bedding last night, having made you feel so warm, an exasperating pinnacle and making you squeak at the strum of his fingers. Your cheeks burned hot even as you felt the gentle cramp within your claimed environs. Then this— your handmaiden Odiele found an odd form of compliment when Tywin's cupbearer had approached your lady's maids to inquire of your health.

You took that wholeheartedly as you had prepared yourself to break your fast, and then the waft of cold hit you. Not a word, not a word to you beyond formalities, it is at that moment your mind gave way to further past your bedding and to the ceremony feast. Your Daima Eldrã had told you, men often melt when their frigid minds crawl to their pillar. It was a deal, that was your marriage. You looked to your belly, wondering if a blonde child had already made a home there, waiting to spread within you and have you waddling about all fat and sweaty.

You were sure your mind had raced even harder than the dozen horses shifting in your riding party outside, however, the very man that clung to the crevices of your head peaked through the door of the wheelhouse. Pulling himself in and sitting opposite you, he glanced at you for a mere moment, the glint of questioning in your eyes that called to him. You thought he would ride with his brother.

"You seem displeased?" Tywin raised his brow, appearing defensive, perhaps irked by your reaction.

"No- I thought you were to ride with Lord Kevan, my lord," you muttered, still finding it hard to meet the steel green of his eyes, the frown perpetually etched onto his forehead often left you dislodged for your firm disposition. He did scare you, you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing so.

"If that is what you wish, my lady." Tywin shuffled to the edge of his seat. His discontent was apparent, you had displeased him. He is your husband, he is trying, and you are trying.

"No- I, stay..." you stutter holding onto his arm "Please." You blurt out meekly.

He grunts for an answer, turning to the stained window as you shuffle closer to it, waving at your sisters clinging to Olvyar's side as the horses neigh, and the procession moves. The first carriages trot away from the moat bridge, and then your carriage moves. That unsettling dread fills your chest again, regressing you to a child of seven summers being sent as a ward to Dorne to your uncles. You gave up the olive greens of your house to the mustards of Martells and now you gave those up for the crimsons of house Lannister. Shedding skin after skin, no home would truly be yours, first the burden of your father then the responsibility of your uncles and now a child bearer for your husband.

Tywin should have travelled with Kevan, irked at his brother's attempts to find leisure in this match. Kevan had physically hauled his elder brother away from their carriage to yours. So here he sat, within the first hour of the ride. The carriage shielded both bodies from the chilled air outside but made the inside unbearably stifling with tension, you would meet his eyes, freeze and curl your lips to a tight smile before uncomfortably looking away.

A young thing so fierce he had thought, you cowered from within, a small sense of satisfaction within Tywin. Maybe you wouldn't try and strangle him to death at night, or stab him as he coupled with you. A Martell after all, a tinge of distrust was highly warranted of the Old Lion. What worried him even more was taking you to Clegane's Keep. A true test of your loyalty— what loyalty? It had only been two days since your wedding— he could picture a torn sneer over your face. Being made to present your dainty hand to the man who had raped and murdered your dear aunt and Targaryen cousins.

He watched as the rocking of the carriage lulled you to soft slumber, head resting against the cushioned wall. Hugging yourself with your neck cranked to find comfort, pouted mouth breathing puffs for lazed breaths. The terrain of the Gold Road was smooth with nary a bump, yet Tywin came to sit next to you. The uncomfortable crank in your neck ought to make it ache in the morning, your head finding itself on his shoulder as you slept, the thick cloak covering your body as you lift your legs next to you. Resting against your husband.

A tight jostle however startled you to consciousness, your adamant need to still remain ridden by sleep you peeked one eye open, taking a moment to gather your bearings, Tywin's hold on you tightened, making you aware that you were indeed resting against his body. An apologetic frown upon your brows as you made an attempt to shuffle to the other end, his hold remained firm.

"Sleep." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder.

You, by the Mother's grace, remained a bed for the remainder of the journey. A mellow call of your name is what broke you away from your clouded warm dreams of the sea.

The face of your handmaiden however above you as she sat with a cloak in her hands, you grumbled awake, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm.

The tenuous tugs of sleep still had you curled to the cushioned seat, grumbling as Syaria pulled you up, accustomed to your demands for more sleep she shifts to hold you straight. You scowl at her mothering, hissing as you felt the bitter tug of the hairbrush she ran through your mussed hair to neatly put into a braid. She slipped the cloak over your shoulders, humming to herself as your body was finally in focus and properly awake.

"Lord Tywin?" You croaked, one last broken yawn breaking through you. Shrugging the gentle ache in your shoulders.

"Out with Lord Kevan." She mused, letting you a satisfied hum before shoving a branch of Meswak for you to chew on.

You had a faint memory of feeling warm, the heavy feel of arms upon you to find your husband's chin resting on your head as he lay awake. You shuffled out of the carriage, the other maids of your horde holding up a sheet of white cloth as you changed behind its security into more appropriate riding clothes. You sat on the foot of the carriage, shooing away the Westerlands maid as she bent down to lace your boots, you were perfectly capable of tying them yourself.

Once ready they pulled away the white curtain as you stood to your height, stretching your arms up in the air to yank at any odd knots within your skin, the carriage had swaddled you in for nearly seven hours from dusk to dawn. The Gold Road was painted orange with the peak of the morning sun, horses neighing away as people changed shifts, a moment of respite and preparations for your arrival at Clegane's Keep.

You walked back five paces, your lovely black mare Nysa sat with her hooves curled in, Eldrã lovingly feeding the sweet thing apples, spoiled girl—

"Might I interrupt for a ride?" You called, Eldrã turned to you smiling, she petted your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You rest alright, dæriya?" she asked, concerned but toying at a far greater subject as she with ease switched to her mother tongue of Rhyone. He was with you last night. sweet girl

"Quiet well, daīa." you hummed holding onto Nysa's reins as you pulled yourself onto her.

Fredrick already stood at the ready. If you were to bolt away from the procession, you pointed your head to the edge towards the clearing where you were sure your husband sat with his brother breaking fast.

"Sleep well, Serret?" you asked a spurt of happiness within you, having the people closest to you accompanying you through this new journey.

"Well enough, my lady." He smiled baring his thirty-one perfect teeth, one happened to be chipped.

"Race with me?" you smiled sheepishly, pointing at the edge of the forest.

"I don't think racing at your station is appropriate now." He pressed, he wouldn't deny you. He never could, he never would.

"And if I were to order you, use my station. Would you do it?" A cheeky grin spread through your face, head tilted and mischief coating your features after a moon.

"Then I shall have no choice but to obey, my lady."

"Then we race!"

Nysa took off with the speed of storm winds, your braids whooshing against the wind as you tore through the forest line, the sun already risen, the orange fading and clear blue skies up above. It felt like an exotic delicacy willed into your environs as the fresh air bathed your skin away from the lingering tensions from the night before. You stopped, right at the edge of the forest line. Turning back to find Fredrick five paces behind before he too halted next to you.

You giggle, poking your pink tongue out at him before turning to bask in the scenery, you finally let your thoughts flow as you tarry.

"How am I expected to raise my palm to a man that raped and murdered my aunt," you muse, that sullen heaviness in your heart wet again weighing you down.

"Do you want me to kill him?" He blurted, a jape in all honesty but a blade pierces a man all the same.

You chuckle, shaking your head— a fine prospect, a violent one but one that Oberyn had fantasised over multiple times, Gregor Clegane's head resting at his foot. You wondered if you stared at his plate of food at lunch, you wondered if The Mountain might fear you of poisoning him. The entirety of your family sat shaking their heads on your shoulder.

You looked around, about a yard away sat your husband by a thoroughly filled table, a black tunic and vest of sable fur with his leg bent and resting over his other. Fine leather boots reaching up his knees, he was watching you from a distance. His arm shot in the air, finger bent to call you over to him.

You sighed, looking at Fredrick before turning Nysa as you trotted over, dreading the conversation you were soon to have.

"My lords." You bowed, barely meeting their eyes. Relishing the sudden warmth against your skin from the lit fire.

"My lady."

"Wife."

Lord Kevan rose from his seat, gesturing for you to replace yourself, he passed a knowing nod to his brother before leaving.

"Are you cold?" Tywin asked, inspecting the gloves on your fingers and the fur lining of your coat.

"The weather hasn't agreed with just yet I'm afraid," you agree, smiling at him "The Dornish climate is a lot more forgiving."

All you could do was rub your leather gloves palms together, speak to him, say anything dammit—

"I have employed a governess for you," Tywin began, setting his plate of food "all the way from Oldtown."

"What use would I have for a governess? Our children would have years before they needed one."

Tywin looked surprised for a moment like the mention of possible children tickled at his hoped.

"You were raised Dornish, it is for your own good."

You frowned, toying at the cusp of what he meant.

"What? Being devoid of good societal behaviours, do you think I am unladylike?"

Tywin's lips pressed into a hardline "You are expected to be the Lady of Casterly Rock, now I will not have mockery being made out of my lady wife and by extension me."

"And why do you suspect it is so? It is you who wanted a lady wife with more than half a brain, have your feet turned cold now my lord?" You appeared irked, pushing your weight against the chair you sat on, married for two days and your husband already believed you daft.

"Do you intend on letting Gregor greet you?"

Silence, an arrow right on the mark you stared at him through the lining of your scrunched eyebrows, that heaviness greeting itself once more.

"You will perform your duties, my lady, you wish not to be greeted. I will allow it. However, the matter of the governess is unchanged if you are to raise my sons."

"My lord, the Keep is ready for you." a foot soldier approached.

You sucked in a sharp breath, wishing you had a pendant vial of poison before stepping foot in that establishment. Tywin gave you a stern look once more before helping you into your horse.

The two of you rode to meet the procession, you very valiantly chose to ride in on Nysa, the niceties of lady ship so far behind your mind, and your husband shook his head as he rode in front of you.

The attendants of Clegane's Keep and the one monstrously large man stood amongst the crowd. People revered the blonde image of Tywin atop his white stallion. Their liege lord once in a moon had come to grace them.

Smile, you should smile but instead, your face seemed to have frozen itself to an unimpressed leer, eyeing Gregor with the malicious power of Mother Rhyone, drop dead— drop dead you sick bastard.

Footmens rushed to lay stools by the horse to make your unhorsing more graceful as you huffed off, patting Nysa as she gently neighed before walking to your husband.

The gruff voice of Gregor Clegane echoed, you were wishing a lance through his heart "Welcome to Clegane's Keep, my lord—" he bows his head before turning to you "My lady."

The anticipation burned up as Tywin watched you from his periphery, honour the fool that ruined your family, you lifted your hand and Tywin's chest deflated. A gloved hand turned and presented for the Mountain to bend and lay a kiss upon your palm. A gloved palm, you remained untouched.

"Clegane's Keep is yours."

Tywin turned to Kevan this time, his younger brother who appeared rather amused at your doings. He merely hoped that you would be introduced to Genna soon.

A gloved hand, a leather toy for a dog, deprives him of the honour of greeting you. You never said you'd let him.

Ahhhh first of all, I thank everyone for the support through this odd time of drama. I figured I’d best focus on my writing and thank everyone that reached out to me.

Secondly. I totally wanna make the reader poison Gregor Clegane, I’m just not sure if I wanna do it this early.

Taglist (thank youuuu💐)

@joker640 @wondergal2001

#tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister smut #tywin lannister x oc #tywin imagine #tywin x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywinlannisterxyou #tywin lannister #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #charles dance #gregor clegane #lord Tywin #kevan lannister #house lannister #house martell #lannisters

260 notes · View notes

firstprincewrites · 7 months

Text

This Magnetic Force Of A Man

Henry is captivated by Alex Claremont-Diaz, there's no other way to describe the heat in his belly or the instant infatuation. For a long time, Henry is hopeless, dreaming a dream that seems so far away. When a media disaster strikes and things change for the better, Henry is left overwhelmed by the intensity of Alex - the man himself is a force to be reckoned with. In their heavier moments, Henry leans into the soft grip of dark curls, leans into the feeling of being grounded by another. Read to find out how Henry navigates all the big moments in their relationship, one hair pull at a time.

Caught Beneath the Landslide

What if Henry hadn't been emotionally unavailable leading to him being rude to Alex upon first meeting him in Melbourne? What if, instead of hating each other, their relationship starts right then and there? Come find out what happens when Henry and Alex find themselves growing up together, nursing a connection, and navigating hurdles in life without the fear of being alone in the fight. What could our boys possibly get up to now?

When Everything's Made To Be Broken

Henry is happy to be back at Etton College for his senior year but that's thrown off course by the president's son untimely arrival. A personal catastrophe brings Alex to England to rain on Henry's parade - at least, that's what the Prince thinks when the First Son arrives. Soon, Henry finds that there's a lot more to Alex and the relationship meant to exist between them.

Keep Breaking Me In

After a long night, Henry isn't expecting Shaan to knock on his door to bring bad news. Yet, his equerry stands there with a sheepish look on his face, nonetheless. Henry is quick to find out that Phillip got his hands on a damning video and plans to use it as a way to dishonorably discharge Henry from military service. Too bad Phillip doesn't recognize the other man in the video - Alex Claremont-Diaz is a high caliber Civil Rights lawyer just waiting to defend instances just like this.

Try To Document This Light

Buying the brownstone is both the start of Henry's path away from the crown and a concrete future for himself and Alex. It's a place he can call home with the man that he loves, a place where they can grow, change, and shift into the men they're going to be for the world to come. After a lifetime of not really belonging anywhere, Henry finds a space that's truly his. Read to catch little peaks into his life with Alex and what the future has in store for them between the walls of that simple little brownstone.

Just the Thought Of You (Gets Me So High)

"Amy helped me plan it."What went into Henry's ocean crossing surprise? What were his thoughts going to the DNC where he'd finally see Alex on the stage, doing what he loves & looking amazing while doing it? Read to find out Henry's side of things as the night of the DNC unfolds.

I Like That Thing You Do

Ever since the first polo match Alex attended, his obsession with Henry on a horse has only grew. Years into their relationship, Alex is still hanging onto the pitch's fence, watching with rapt fascination. Read to find out what happens when Phillip asks a question that creates a lust monster Alex can't control. No one ever said those white pants Henry wears aren't meant to be destroyed.

With the View In the Morning (You Won't Ever Go Back)

Despite being together just shy of a year, the night of the election is a first for both Alex and Henry. After sneaking away to linger in their victory, Henry is surprised by Alex's initiative. They're on his home court so Henry is expecting the usual but Alex has something different in mind. The shift is enough to knock Henry's world off kilter in the best of ways. Read to find out how Henry survives his first time topping.

Can We Dance In the Dark?

"Who would you be?""Be a writer. Live in Paris."Inspired by this beautiful quote, this fic follows Henry Fox, a writer who's famous for crafting stories about a fictional prince - The Royal Blue series follows James through the trials and tribulations of being young, royal, and gay as a maypole. He loves what he does but inspiration is dry. He can't find the words and is severely stuck in a bout of writer's block. To try and abate it, Henry takes David for a walk - fate, the dear she is, finds a way to intervene. After a collision, Henry comes face to face with Alex Claremont-Diaz, law student and first son of the United States. Read to find out how their relationship develops into something worth writing about.

This Happily Ever After

For such a natural, easy sort of relationship like Alex and Henry's, there is a lot of weight on their shoulders. Despite themselves, they're making history with each new step they take in their relationship. It's a good thing, then, that neither man is a stranger to the limelight. When Alex teases about them making history, Henry doesn't know how deep that comment will run or how true it actually is. Read to catch a few pieces of Alex & Henry's relationship where they make their own history. Sometimes, two people are meant to shape the world, no matter the circumstance.Or - 5 times Alex jokes about making history and 1 time Henry reciprocates.

I Get Lost, I Get Washed Away

Law school is stressful from the start but it reaches a fever pitch during Alex's last semester. He decides Henry's birthday is the perfect excuse to get away from it all so he hatches a plan to not only be there for Henry's birthday but surprise him with his presence, too. They're on the cusp of something in their relationship and Alex is ready to help whatever it is along. Everything works out perfectly, down to the moonlit car ride they take at the end of the night. Read to find out how an overstimulated Alex pampers the birthday boy - in the end, they both take care of each other.

I Got A Girl Crush

Alex Claremont-Diaz has been the object of Henry's affection for longer than the prince cares to admit. He's usually pretty sane about it but his brother's wedding has put everything on high alert. After reading a particularly upsetting gossip rag, Henry is distraught by the idea of seeing Alex with her - Nora Holleran - everything that Henry is not. He decides he wants what she has as the night goes on and her closeness with Alex becomes apparent. Though, Henry is quick to learn that not all things are what they appear. Sometimes, it takes a little frosting on the cheek to realize how wrong one can truly be.

Then Wiggle With It

What if, instead of balking at the request, Henry takes Alex up on his offer to dance during 'Get Low'? Alex has been wondering why he feels a little funny whenever Henry is around but an errant touch while their bodies are close causes him to reevaluate everything he's come to know about himself. Can the simple bump and grind of a raucous club song really change everything for Alex? And does their relationship shift now that Alex comes to a groundbreaking realization much quicker than ever imaginable? Read to find out!

The Perfect Genius Of Our Hands and Mouths

The first time they make love, that soft press of Henry's hand to the small of Alex's back is a guiding light. He's not a fumbling boy learning how to walk - he's a man with someone showing him the ropes. It's a wonderful thing that Alex never forgets. In fact, he comes to rely on that hand on the small of his back leading him through the ups and downs of life. Read to see a few slices of Alex and Henry's time together where making love and feeling that touch play starring roles in the biggest instances of their relationship.

A Solid Embrace

Despite the not so good nature of the holiday, Thanksgiving has always been special to Alex. Throughout the years, he learns things, eats good food, and grows into the man he is today. This year, Henry gets the freedom to spend the holiday with Alex and his family out at the lake house in Texas. Determined to make it the best yet, Alex goes through all the motions, perfecting them along the way. Somewhere throughout the day, his priority changes, however - Henry in a striped rugby shirt is suddenly the object of his fixation, food and tradition forgotten. Read to find out how a little football makes Alex realize his family is finally complete.

#firstprince #firstprince fic #firstprince fluff #firstprince smut #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue movie #rw&rb #rw&rb fanfic #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #alex #prince henry of wales #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry #bobbie writes #masterlists #masterlist #firstprince masterlist

80 notes · View notes

bridgertonbabe · 26 days

Note

With the spouse groupchat I’m guessing the Pictionary Incident was Sophie’s first experience at game night? I’m wondering if she and Benedict may have had an advantage on everyone else given Benedict’s artistic skills. Or if his siblings were prepared for this and it (as expected) lead to more chaos.

BSSG Group Chat

Simon has added Sophie to the chat.

Simon: Welcome Sophie.

Kate: Hey 🙋🏾

Sophie: Hi?

Kate: You're now the newest member of the Bridgerton Spouses Support Group GC!

Sophie: But I'm not a spouse?

Simon: Yeah but you will be soon enough and after what happened last night you've essentially earned your place here.

Kate: Exactly! And congrats on the engagement! 🤗

Sophie: Wait what?

Simon: We figured you guys were keeping it quiet but Ben let the cat out of the bag by referring to you as his fiancee when we were sitting with him. I'm sure you wanted to do a proper announcement and everything but don't worry we'll keep it under wraps for now.

Kate: Yeah we promise, I haven't breathed a word of it to Anthony.

Simon: Same with Daph, your secret's safe with us.

Simon: And congratulations, of course

Sophie: So the thing is Ben and I aren't engaged. He probably only called me his fiancee because of all the morphine he was on, I'm sure he's just confused and delirious.

Kate: Oh shit are you serious?

Sophie: Well I'd think I'd know if I was engaged, it's not something that happens very often.

Sophie: So sorry for the misunderstanding x

Sophie has left the chat.

Simon has added Sophie to the chat.

Simon: Hey just because you're not engaged right this second doesn't mean you can't be in the chat!

Kate: Yeah I mean it's definitely going to happen sooner or later.

Simon: And like I said after last night you've cemented your place not just in this chat but in the family too.

Kate: How's Ben doing? Are you still at the hospital with him?

Sophie: He's ok, he's asleep at the moment. Hopefully by the time he comes round he won't be in as much pain.

Simon: Well that's good to hear.

Sophie: Is Anthony ok?

Kate: Lol yeah he'll be just fine don't you worry.

Sophie: Look guys as kind as you've been there's not really much point in having me in the chat. Once Ben wakes up and he's not so high on the morphine I'm going to end things. It's been really nice knowing you both, you're both so lovely and I wish you all the best x

Sophie has left the chat.

Simon: WHAT THE FUCK

Kate has added Sophie to the chat.

Kate: Sophie wtf are you talking about?!?!!

Simon: What do you mean you're ending things with Ben?

Kate: You're perfect for each other I don't understand?!?!?!

Sophie: Because of everything that happened last night?

Kate: Yeah what about it?

Sophie: ...

Sophie: I punched Anthony and gave him a black eye?

Simon: So?

Sophie: ...

Sophie: So????? What do you mean so? Why the hell would Ben want to stay with me after I punched Anthony and slapped Colin?

Kate: Sophie are you serious? That was hands down the most iconic thing that's ever happened at a Bridgerton game night.

Simon: I honestly thought Ben had proposed to you as a direct result from you putting those idiots in their places.

Sophie: Look even if Ben was for some reason won over by my behaviour, I don't see Violet welcoming me into the fold after hurting two of her sons and I don't see the rest of the family being impressed by what I did.

Simon: But Violet was completely on your side! We all were!

Kate sent a photo

Kate: That's a still from the video Hy took of you bitch slapping Colin.

Kate sent a photo

Kate: And that's the still Eloise has already had printed and framed that's now sitting proudly on the mantlepiece.

Simon: Sophie the rest of them would throw a parade for you if they could. They're completely enamoured by you.

Kate: More so than they already were.

Sophie: That's... ok I don't really know how to take that. That's not a normal response from witnessing violence.

Simon: No it's a perfectly normal response from witnessing justified violence.

Kate: And Sophie speaking as Anthony's wife; he did deserve it.

Sophie: I just don't think Anthony or Colin would want me to keep dating Ben.

Simon: Sophie let me assure you now they won't hold it against you. If anything they'll have gained respect for you.

Sophie: I severely doubt that.

Kate: Look Sophie you taught them a very valuable lesson that it's not ok to intentionally slam a mini keg of beer down on Ben's hand just because he was thrashing them at Pictionary.

Simon: And just like you and Violet were screaming at them, they could have genuinely done lasting damage and Ben would have been buggered from ever doing his art again. They had to be told and hand on heart physically assaulting them was truly the only way to get that through their thick skulls.

Kate: Plus it doubled as a valuable teaching lesson for them and the rest to never mess with Ben and especially never to fucking mess with you.

Sophie: Look even that aside I don't think it's going to work out between Ben and I. I really wound him up even before the keg incident and when he wakes up and the painkillers have worn off I expect he won't want to keep things going either so we may as well just cut our losses. Again I really appreciate all your kind words, it's been nice knowing you x

Sophie has left the chat.

Kate: Oh for fuck's sake.

Simon has added Penelope to the chat.

Simon has added Sophie to the chat.

Simon: Sophie don't leave this chat again, you got that?

Kate: Yes just please stay fucking put.

Sophie: Ok?

Penelope: Hello? 👀

Simon: Hey Pen welcome to the Bridgerton Spouses Support Group GC. Seeing as you've known them the longest we need your expert insight to assure Sophie that nothing should be taken to heart from the family during game nights.

Penelope: omg Sophie please don't let last night scare you off!

Penelope: yes they all go batshit but it's only game nights that set them off I swear!

Simon: And Pall Mall.

Penelope: well yeah basically anything competitive they turn into a bunch of crazy nutzos, it runs in the family

Penelope: and I totally get that Daphne and Eloise getting into a spitting fight would have been very off-putting to witness and Hy chucking her drink over Fran and Greg was uncalled for but they're truly only at their collective worst when they're competing against each other

Sophie: Oh don't worry I very much got the picture that they're all unhinged when it comes to playing games 😩

Sophie: It's just that after Ben got so mad at me and shouted at me in front of everyone, I don't know if I'm what he wants any more.

Kate: Omg Sophie it was only in the heat of the moment of the game, it's not that deep.

Sophie: Kate my own boyfriend dumped me from his team and recruited you instead because my drawings were "abominably shit". He literally couldn't even look at me from that point on, he was that frustrated with me.

Kate: Yeah but in his defence Soph your drawings were particularly abysmal. I still don't know how you managed to fuck up a starfish the way that you managed to. Honestly I was going to yell at you for that one but Ben beat me to it.

Simon: Soph please pay no mind to Kate, she's not much better than the family when it comes to game nights.

Kate: Hey! I'm just being honest with her!

Penelope: Sophie please don't take how Ben reacted to heart! I swear he's actually one of the milder Bridgertons during game nights, it's only because Pictionary is his game to lose that he lost his cool last night otherwise he wouldn't have ever spoken to you like that

Sophie: I get where you guys are coming from and I don't want to be so overly sensitive but he's never once raised his voice to me and I never thought he would.

Penelope: the last time we played Pictionary do you know who Ben snapped at and ditched from his team because they weren't meeting his impossibly high standards?

Penelope: his own mum

Kate: Omfg

Simon: Holy shit

Penelope: I never thought he'd ever talk to Violet like that since he's such a mummy's boy but Pictionary ignites something very ugly in him that nobody's safe from, even those he loves most

Simon: See Soph! Don't let Ben being a psychotic competitive Bridgerton get to you! It's not worth ending your relationship over!

Penelope: WHAT?!?!?!?!?

Penelope: omg you're not seriously thinking of breaking up with him are you??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Kate: Seriously you can't Sophie!

Penelope: you make him so happy Sophie, he's been on cloud 9 ever since you've been together

Simon: You're part of the family now Soph. Even if you wanted to leave they wouldn't let you.

Kate: We wouldn't let you.

Penelope: Sophie they all adore you, I hear nothing but them singing your praises. El says you're the best thing that's ever happened to Ben - I seriously don't know what he'd do if you broke up with him, I don't think he'd recover

Simon: Violet's been foaming at the mouth for months now for Ben to propose

Simon: In fact Violet was the one who picked Pictionary to play because she wanted you to be super impressed by Ben at your first game night

Simon: And yes admittedly it might have massively backfired but it just proves how desperately Violet doesn't want Ben to lose a partner like you!

Kate: He has a ring!!!!!!!!!!

Kate: Why'd you think we didn't even question him calling you his fiancee?!?!?!?! We thought he had finally popped the question!!!!!!!!

Sophie: Wait

Sophie: He's got a ring?

Simon: Kate

Kate: I had to tell her Simon!!!! We can't let her sucking at Pictionary be the reason she breaks things off when he's literally about to propose!!!!!!!!

Sophie: You're not just saying that are you?

Kate: I was literally there when he asked Violet for his grandmother's ring! And remember the other week when we had a girls night and Fran asked to try on one of your rings? That was how we figured out your ring size and Fran went with Ben to the jewellers to get his grandmother's ring resized so it'd be a perfect fit for you!

Simon: Way to ruin the surprise.

Kate: Hey Ben will thank me for saving his relationship instead of letting her dump him because she hasn't got a thick enough skin for game nights!

Penelope: just for the record it doesn't matter how thick a skin you have - a Bridgerton game night will unsettle and unnerve just about anyone from outside the fam who takes part

Penelope: (not including Kate obvs)

Sophie: I can't believe it, he wants to marry me? He really wants to marry me?

Kate: Yes!!!!!!!!!!

Sophie: And you think he still would after last night?

Simon: Sophie he'd want to marry you even more after last night. I'm pretty sure in spite of the pain he was enduring from his hand being crushed that he was also quite turned on from you beating up his brothers and berating them.

Penelope: it definitely turned me on

Kate: Same here.

Simon: So please swear you won't end things with him when he wakes up

Sophie: Don't worry I won't.

Kate: Also I'd greatly appreciate if you didn't spoil your own engagement or let slip that I gave you the heads up about it

Sophie: Rest assured I won't ruin the element of surprise.

Simon: And also don't you dare try leaving this chat again. You're here now and for the forseeable, you got that?

Sophie: I promise 😇 x

Penelope: well it looks like my work here is done 👐

Penelope has left the chat.

Sophie: Oh that's a shame. I thought Pen would stay as well considering she'll marry in too.

Simon: Ah I know but I understand her not feeling comfortable staying in considering Colin's too dumb to even realise he's in love with her and ask her out.

Sophie: Wait

Sophie: Colin and Penelope aren't actually a couple???????

Kate: Soph don't even get us started.

#asks #group chat au #bridgerton spouses #the lack of memes and gifs are because they only started getting used more prominently with the later additions to the gc

38 notes · View notes

quitealotofsodapop · 5 months

Text

LMK assorted Spider Gang LMK headcanons/theories

sequel to this post. Focusing on the Spider Gang cus I just finished reading that section of Journey to the West.

Spider Queen:

Spider Queen was one of seven sisters... seven sisters who fell to Monkey King's staff after trying to capture Tripitaka/Tang Sanzang for their master; Hundred-Eyed Demon Lord/Centipede Demon. Spider Queen was the only survivor of the fight besides the sisters' adoptive sons. She has spent the last countless years trying to rebuild the family and home she once had, accidentally becoming a "queen" of spider demon-kind in the process.

The Hundred-Eyed Demon Lord's current status is unknown. Spider Queen doesn't care. Her former "brother" refused to give up the Tang monk in exchange for the safety of his sisters. She views this as the ultimate betrayal from someone she had considered her mentor/older brother. She did steal his alchemy supplies though, hence her cauldron.

Spider Queen actually lost her legs in her and Wukong's original fight - hence why she uses a mechanical lower body. Modern mobility aids yall.

Spider Queen also has beef (accidental Pun) with Zhu Bajie for harassing her and her sisters when they were bathing. Homeboy really went so creepy that they predatory spider demons didn't even wanna eat him. Even Pigsy's brief lapse of braincells when he first met Spider Queen was more polite than what his predecesor did.

Spider Queen's motherly nature extends beyond her clan. It's why LBD deliberately possessed a child to approach her - she knew Spider Queen would think twice about hurting "just a little girl". Spider Queen even gets a little protective over MK once she starts talking to him on an equal level.

Syntax:

Syntax was once a scientist who worked at the Weather Station. When the station was damaged by Red Son and MK's fighting in "Bad Weather"; he got scapegoated by the company as it's lead programmer and was fired. This gives him mega resentment towards both the Monkie Kid gang and the DBK family specifically.

He ran into Spider Queen while trying to find work as a freelance programmer. She needed someone to design a delivery system for her venom that didn't require her biting every single victim's neck. Syntax scoffed and went "I could just program a swarm of mini-robots to do it for you. We use similar drones while cloud-seeding at the station." and the rest is history.

Syntax's name is not only a programming reference, but is a ref to a type of spider family called Synotaxidae - related to Huntsmans and Black Widows (family <3). His name in Mandarian is "Liù yǎn zhū"/六眼蛛 meaning "Six-eyed Spider", which could be a glasses joke from the rest of the spider gang (who normally have four eyes) or a reference to a species in the same family - a six-eyed sand spider, known for their reclusive natures, and having the most powerful venom of any spider species. Hilarious if Syntax ever accidentally bit someone and it was a 1-hit KO.

The antidote made by Red Son wouldn't have worked on Syntax. While it did cure those envenomated during New Years, Syntax getting the "first spin" of the refined venom meant that he recieved far higher a survivable dosage/damage from the spider-bot. He had to work out a few more kinks before the New Years parade or else Megaopolis would been filled with dead half-spider people.

Syntax is having a small crisis of humanity. Not as big as the gang expected, but more like "Oh dang. I could've just been a demon this whole time? This rocks!- Hey why do chickens freak me out all of a sudden?" There's lot of spider demon stuff he has no context for - Spider Queen probably has to give him the spider demon version of "The Talk" the first time Syntax drums his legs at someone he likes.

Has/had a very mild rivalry with Macaque, mostly cus the shadow monkey would poke fun at Syntax for being a magic-less former human, and the programmer could toss the criticism right back at him in words Macaque didn't understand. The hostility died down when Macaque got weirdly interested in an RPG Maker game Syntax was playing, and wanted to know how videogames worked. And so the development of the "Macaque VR game" began.

He def chose the name "Syntax" for himself.

Huntsman:

Huntsman is only slightly younger than Spider Queen. He was a fellow spider demon disgusted by what the pilgrims had done to her sisters. And was a little curious at how strong they truly were. Encountered Sha Wujing on the road when the river demon was foraging, and was immediately enamored with his strength. He knows Sandy is pretending to be a reincarnation, he could recognise his Blue from anywhere.

Hates being seen as weak. Will act out if he suspects someome is "going easy" on him. Even with spicy cooking.

Saw some Things in the potion-portal Tang accidentally sent him to in Laozi/Lao Tzu's lab. The "duck" label was a metaphor.

Beyond tracking devices, this spider is tech blind. Has no gotdamn idea Syntax is talking about half the time.

Goliath/Strong Spider:

Is a little older than Huntsman. But no one's really sure how old he is. Not even him.

Was a drifter from another clan before joining Spider Queen. He doesn't like to talk about what happened with his birth clan.

Deliberately trained his body so he could physically protect his friends/clan from harm. A lot of things can squish a spider, and Goliath wants to make sure that never happens again.

Goliath/Strong Spider has no idea how to make or spin a web. It's the folly of his sub-species. He can however, knit you a pretty good wool blanket instead. :3

Since he's based on a spider called a Goliath Bird-Eater; Goliath occasionally just plucks a bird out of the sky and noms on it like Hogsqueal in The Spiderwick Chronicles. If he ever saw Peng, not even the Buddha could stop Goliath from trying to take a bite.

Spindrax (sadly toyline only ;_;):

Has an obnoxiously black-and-pink colour scheme as a foil to Mei's white-and-green aesthetic.

Is Mei's equal rival in everything. Racing, pinball, arcade games, hand-to-hand combat, etc... Spindrax and Mei even go toe-to-toes when it comes to dancing.

Uses a stylized motorcycle helmet while driving, so much so that Mei honestly didn't know what Spindrax's face looked like until after a race/spider gang fight.

Youngest of the whole spider clan. She's barely considered a young-adult by their standards. Gets babied/underestimated sometimes by them and wishes to prove herself.

Would annoy Syntax while he's working by flicking rubber bands at him.

Bonus ideas+:

The original spider clan was once an actual kingdom, but it fell to silk-greedy humans during the mid Tang Dynasty when the empire began enforcing extreme measures to prevent rival nations from getting their hands on easy silk. When a few too many Roman and Greek tradesmen went to the Spider Kingdom instead of following the Silk Road - the kingdom was burnt to the ground. The Seven Sisters were the only surviving members of a very minor branch of the royal family - saved by a centipede schoolmate.

The Spider Sisters in Journey to the West had adoptive children in the form of other bug demons known as; Bee, Hornet, Cockroach, Cantharis/Spanish-Fly/Blister-Beetle, Grasshopper, Maggot/Wax-Fly, and Dragonfly, who came to defend their moms' after Zhu Bajie harassed them. However they were just little kids, so they could barely nip at the pilgrims even as a swarm of insects. Even the tallest of them was said to be "no more than two and a half feet". SWK simply scared them off by making his hair-clones turn into different birds. It's likely that Spider Queen had to care for her orphaned nephews/students in the aftermath of Jttw.

Would be cool if the seven niblings were still around, trying to avenge their moms and aunts. Hilarious if they were somehow more successful than Jin and Yin at villainy - if only a smidge. Then again that means at the end of canon S3 they're left without a family, if LBD doesn't see them as extra mech material that is...

MK: *driving home from a delivery* A voice off to the side: "Hey monkey-head!" MK, stops driving: "???" (MK turns, only to see seven scrappy-looking kids) MK: "Aww. You guys fans of mine?" Kid 1#: "No! We are sons of the Seven Spider Sisters! Sworn enemies of the Monkey King!" MK, tensing up cus arachnophobia: "S-spiders?" Kid 2#: "Yeah! Now you're gonnna get it!" The Kids: *transforms into their true demon forms* MK: *massive sigh of relief* "Oh thank the buddha! You're just regular bug demons. Sorry nothing personal, I just can *not* deal with a swarm of baby spiders right now. You guys get home to Spider Queen before it gets dark ok?" MK: *continues driving home* The Kids, briefly stunned: "HEY! Get back here!" "You're not suppose to run away!" "We're telling mama about this!"

Spider Demons are able to heal/hibernate inside cocoons similar to those seen in the cave system. Huntsman and Goliath were sleeping off the worst of the winter frost when New Year's woke them up. It could also give an explaination to where Spindrax and the seven adopted bug kiddos are - they sleepin'.

I leave you with this funny Gary Larson comic with a spider in it:

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk spider gang #lmk spider queen #spider gang #lmk syntax #lmk huntsman #lmk goliath #lmk strong spider #lmk spindrax #lmk backstory hcs #lmk hcs #lmk headcanons #lmk character ideas

64 notes · View notes