#over you gold shall have no dominion

[aragornsrockcollection]

Behold! The reason I buy it when characters call Galadriel wise.

Edit: WAIT SHOOT I FORGOT TO CREDIT THE ARTISTS

Feanor is by Bellaberolts

And Gimli is by Jas Sparks

Please forgive me for using your art in my shitty meme.

#tolkien #jrr tolkien #galadriel #feanor #mightiest of the noldor #gimli #gimli son of gloin #dwarves #the noldor #lady of light #galadriel’s hair #over you gold shall have no dominion #lord of the rings #lotr #silm #the silmarillion #kombucha girl #do you ever decide to do something #that is SUCH a waste of time? #that’s me and the shoddy galadriel hair on kombucha girl #done on my phone in pocket procreate #which i can only vaguely work

[marietheran]

LotR reread - book 2, chapter 8 - Farewell to Lórien

Oh, you can see Tolkien fought in a war and now makes sure his heroes need not eat army crackers...

Galadriel's song...

The geography of Aman seems a bit weirdly squeezed together if I was to analyze it though? "by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree"... strand is shore, Ilmarin is the palace of Manwë and Varda, the golden Tree can only be one thing, and then it is said to shine "beside the walls of elven Tirion"... And Galadriel knows how all of it fits together. Hmm, I suppose it's best ignored. But the poem is beautiful.

"But if of ships I now should sing, what ship should come to me/ What shop would ever bear me back across so wide a Sea."

"Hythe" - new word. Apparently means "small port, landing place"

"Drink, Lord of the Galadhrim! And let not your heart be sad, though night must follow noon, and already our evening draweth nigh."

Aragorn/Arwen Allusions Counter at 3.875

All this talk of ending and fading is :(

This is really interesting, but, while it is properly the domain of elves, it seems that dwarves also care for the stars -- as much as Men, I suppose. Or Gimli at least.

"Then I say to you, Gimli son of Gloin, that your hands shall flow with gold and yet over you gold shall have no dominion."

"Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únòtimë ve rámar aldaron!" is the part that I can both recite from memory and understand. Or at least, I understand almost every single word on itself, not bothering about grammar, and know how they fit together.

Quenya is pretty...

"Varda is the name of that Lady whom the elves in these lands of exile name Elbereth" <- here, and only here, upon my first reread of LotR after the Silm did I finally realise that Elbereth = Varda.

"I do not wish to drown my grief in cold water."

----------

If you look at the timeline in the appendices, the irony of it all is that Gandalf (now, Gandalf the White) arrives in Lothlorien exactly one day after the Fellowship leaves...

#lotr reread #original post #the professor's mythopoeia #lotr

[ebaeschnbliah]

`And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?'

`None, Lady,' answered Gimli. `It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.'

`Hear all ye Elves! ' she cried to those about her. `Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.'

`There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,' said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. `Nothing, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.'

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. 'It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues ' she said; `yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift? '

`Treasure it, Lady,' he answered, `in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'

Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. `These words shall go with the gift,' she said. `I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.’

The travellers now turned their faces to the journey; the sun was before them, and their eyes were dazzled, for all were filled with tears. Gimli wept openly.

`I have looked the last upon that which was fairest,' he said to Legolas his companion. `Henceforward I will call nothing fair, unless it be her gift.' He put his hand to his breast.

`Tell me, Legolas, why did I come on this Quest? Little did I know where the chief peril lay! Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we could not foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord. Alas for Gimli son of Glóin! '

`Nay! ' said Legolas. `Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Glóin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken your companions, and the least reward that you shall have is that the memory of Lothlórien shall remain ever clear and unstained in your heart, and shall neither fade nor grow stale.'

`Maybe,' said Gimli; `and I thank you for your words. True words doubtless; yet all such comfort is cold. Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zâram. Or so says the heart of Gimli the Dwarf. Elves may see things otherwise. Indeed I have heard that for them memory is more like to the waking world than to a dream. Not so for Dwarves.

'But let us talk no more of it. Look to the boat! She is too low in the water with all this baggage, and the Great River is swift. I do not wish to drown my grief in cold water.' He took up a paddle, and steered towards the western bank, following Aragorn's boat ahead, which had already moved out of the middle stream.

The gifts for:  

Boromir, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Sam: ‘I have brought in my ship gifts’

Aragorn: 'Now it is time to drink the cup of farewell.' 

Frodo: ‘In this phial is caught the light of Eärendil's star.’

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, Farewell to Lórien  

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #farewell to lórien #jrr tolkien #lothlorien #caras galadhon #farewell #gifts #galadriel #gimli #legolas #movie pics #peter jackson

[cornerful]

'Nothing, unless it might be – unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire'

I know Galadriel also commends it but Gimli is so incredibly well-spoken ❤ I would be flattered as hell

'if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'

Imperishable crystal you say? 👀 her silver-gold treelit luminous 3 hairs set in imperishable crystal you say? 👀

And I love him for this, it's a bold and unrepentant political statement made with absolutely no consultation with anyone else XD he said nope, we're friends now

'But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.'

This is a beautiful line, pure jirtery, and a perfect extension to Gimli's much better-hearted reason for coveting her hair than a certain elf that has been mentioned

#this whole bit is so romantic as in romanticism not as in romance #its dwarf loving hours babey #lotrn216 #lotr newsletter

[arofili]

@khazadweek day seven | folklore & myths | the fates of galadriel’s gift to gimli

          ‘And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?’ said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.           ‘None, Lady,’ answered Gimli. ‘It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.’            ‘Hear all ye Elves!’ she cried to those about her. ‘Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.’            ‘There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,’ said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. ‘Nothing, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.’            The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. ‘It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues,’ she said; ‘yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?’            ‘Treasure it, Lady,’ he answered, ‘in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.’            Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli’s hand. ‘These words shall go with the gift,’ she said. ‘I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.’

—The Fellowship of the Ring, “Farewell to Lórien”

#khazadweek #tolkienedit #oneringnet #lotredit #lotr #lord of the rings #gimli #galadriel #arien #aglarond #dol amroth #my edit #tefain nin #to find the sun

[theleakypen]

But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.

Man can you imagine being Gimli and hearing these words, knowing the history of your people & the gold-sickness they have at times fallen into? That might be a better gift than even the three hairs from Galadriel's head!

#gimli son of gloin #galadriel #this is the lotr discourse i come here for #is a weird tag to use for a post I'm originating but oh well #that's just my tag

[tathrin]

i’m so in love with your AU, especially the parts where Gimli is being influenced / hearing the whispers of his ring!! i love hearing Gimli’s inner workings and thoughts as he’s further being corrupted. im not sure where I got the idea that dwarves are more resilient to the influence of the ring (not sure if this is from canon or fanon or just vibes ach) but it’s really fascinating to read your story with the thought that dwarves are resilient (ESPECIALLY GIMLI!!! the knight in shining armour who in the movies literally immediately tried to destroy the ring) and seeing just how far gone Gimli has gone to justify the corruption to himself. its like Gimli is an unmoveable rock and his ring Knows This, so it has chipped away at him slowly, until he withered away and has become something unrecognisable. given what it took for legolas to recognise gimli fully and completely (him taking off his ring) it seems this is already in effect!! but somehow though despite the corruption and the pain going on here i still Trust gimli, isn’t that insane? 😅 it’s like yeah he’s definitely being influenced by evil energy and yeah he’s committed war crimes but also he’s Gimli so that’s okay 🫶 no but in all honesty i feel like how legolas did first seeing him, couldn’t recognise him at first but once i did i flinched back in fear at the dark lord of erebor i saw!! (but also i just feel like when it comes to gimli i cant lose hope!) maybe he snaps out of the evil influence, maybe he falls further into its hold!! who knows what’s gonna happen in this AU? cant wait to read more! <3 (also many apologies for the HUGE chunk of text 😅)

Oh my gods don’t APOLOGIZE for this, I am flailing over it. I am writhing on the floor making happy screams. Thank you ahhhh I am so glad you like it, thank you! And I’m going to respond by rambling my ass off at you, so I hope you don’t regret it too much ahaha. But like. yes! Gimli IS the knight in shining armor! The unmovable rock! The incorruptible pillar! But now...

Well, now I have to justify a dark take on him in this weird-ass AU idea that bopped me on the head out of nowhere lmao. So I’m going to just gush my thoughts out at you incoherently, and see if I can A: get them a little more concrete in my head and B: see what you think! (This is what you get for engaging with me I’m so sorry. You stuck your finger through the cage and now I’m gnawing on it excitedly lol.)

You’re right about Dwarves and the Rings btw, the original Seven Rings couldn’t corrupt the Dwarves the way they did Men (no Ringwraithdwarves lol) they basically just gave them Severe Goldsickness, iirc. But! it’s not gold that Gimli wants! Over him gold shall have no dominion. So that wouldn’t be a very viable way of getting to his heart, silly Ring. So basically where my head went was, the Rings work by corrupting a person’s goodness not by just like. mustache twirling mwa-ha-ha evilness, right? They get to you by offering you what you want, not what the Dark Lord wants; that’s how they hook you, anyway, and then it shifts and drags you down with it into what It wants...but that’s how it starts.

With Frodo, the way the Ring got to him was through him showing Gollum mercy, basically: the whole “I won’t kill you, but if you attack me again you’ll be thrown into fire!” thing. Sure it was wearing him down all along in little ways, but that was where the Ring got its final major defining “in” with him. With Boromir, it was “hey do you want strength to defend your city?” and yeah, of course he does! Who wouldn’t? That’s a viable desire!

So with Gimli, Durin’s Ring has really been working with not a lot so far, tbh.

It’s certainly been enacting influence! Twisting, corrupting, cajoling; chipping away, as you said. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to do X...but a year ago, he had to do Y. And doing Y makes doing X easier to bear; that’s how corruption works. And the Ring has certainly been working hard. But it just hasn’t been able to get much of a grip.

Because Gimli is compromising his sense of right and wrong for the sake of the greater good, sure; but that was less about the Ring on his hand luring him in than it was about the fact that all of Middle-earth has been conquered by a Dark Lord, so there are no good choices left. Do you defy Gondor and watch your people be slaughtered on the altar of your pride? Or do you bend your knee and try to keep them alive as best you can? Gimli chose the latter, and that’s led to a terrible (and slowly corrupting) struggle, because he has to side with evil “for the sake of his people” and accept, allow, and sometimes even order evil things done, and there’s no good way off that road to hell once you start walking it (especially in Tolkien) — but he hasn’t really needed (or wanted) the power of the Ring. Yet.

Now all of a sudden here’s Legolas in chains before him, and elves are the one thing in Middle-earth who don’t get the option of “bend your knee to the bad guy and live, or defy him and die” — for them, it’s just die. And of course Gimli doesn’t want to stand back and watch Legolas die. But maybe Gimli can save him! He’s the Lord of Erebor! He has a Ring of Power! He should be able to do something to save him...right!?

And that’s how the Ring is (finally!) getting its big “in” with him here.

He’s already compromised himself so much, he thinks; he’s already got so much blood on his hands, spilt to save his people. He’s watched children in Dale starve, because he doesn’t dare give them food the Dark Lord doesn’t think their people have earned. He’s watched Mirkwood burn and stood behind his walls and done nothing. He’s let elves be worked to death in his mines. He’s accepted a Ring of Power, and all it’s done has been to leave him even more powerless than before. He’s stood back while good people were executed, because nothing he said could have saved them and daring to try would have only made more trouble for the people depending on him. He’s pledged his allegiance, and that of his people, to a monster for the sake of making sure the dwarves who rely on him live to see another day. He’s already damned. So what else does he have to lose?

Well. Legolas’s life, as it turns out. And if the Ring can save him...well.

Gimli is such a good, strong person. He’s never wanted power for himself, or lordship, or anything like that. He just wants to save people, to protect them. And just like with Boromir, the Ring is going to offer him the power to do that, and that might be what pushes him over the edge from slowly damning himself by making the best of increasingly bad choices...to falling off the edge into total darkness.

But we’ll see! I have no idea where this story is going to go, so maybe it’ll be a story of salvation! Or maybe it won’t. We get to find out together. Yay?

#you have the best insights into gimli #i am gnawing on my fingers to know what you think ahhh #galadrielspeaks #gimli #gimli dark lord of erebor au #lotr #lotr au #my writing #gimleaf

[hollowhornets]

I need to talk about pantalones design because it's been eating at me ever since I started looking into character design language and color theory a bit more (i absolutely dont know everything this is just me rambling to the void because i find it cool), ok so firstly, colors, the majority of his design is made up of purples/blue-ish purples and black, purple is often a color thats associated with royalty (aka really rich people) and it absolutely makes sense that he would want to present himself this way considering his status now (the wealthiest among the harbingers and one of the richest people in teyvat) and his past.

in the words of his fandom wiki page "Pantalone was born into poverty and was never able to receive a vision. This made him question why gods held dominion over so many aspects of life and gave him a deep desire to obtain wealth for himself."

and in the words of pantalone himself "we shall, by whatever means necessary, become the heart that pumps money around the world. and, when the moment comes, that heart shall cease beating by our will alone" it is very clear that he knows his status perfectly, even before he got to where he is now, and him having purple all over his design is making sure everyone around him (including players) also understand his status and know just how wealthy he is.

straying away from his clothes a bit and talking about his eyes, ive seen it in the hoyofair 'house of wolves' animation thing but ive also seen it in fanart and i need to talk about it cause it is eoughg (/pos), so pantalones eyes are usually closed (something i could absolutely talk about more but for the sake of this not being 10 pages long ill save it for a later date) but people often draw him with his eyes open with eye colors ranging from white to blue to purple, but i specifically want to talk about his eyes being gold.

so firstly (its a bit silly so bear with me) purple clothes, wants to present himself like hes royalty, etc etc we've established this, but something thats a little less obvious (because his eyes are always closed) but says so much character design language wise is his eyes being gold, signifying he only has eyes for money (because, mora, mora is gold, get it) purple is a color often associated with royalty and gold is a color often associated with money. giving him any eye color in fanart is absolutely fine and i love it all regardless but him having golden eyes makes so much sense with his character.

and just color theory wise, yellow and purple are on opposite sides of the color wheel which make them contrasting colors, which look so good if you make most of a characters clothes a darker shade of one and use a very bright and vibrant version of the other color in something small, like the characters eyes or a streak in their hair, it adds such a nice little 'pop' that looks so good on pantalone and i adore it its so pretty on him

#i dont know its just cool to me and i had to talk about it #he also just looks so pretty with bright gold eyes #need me a pretty rich man that understands taxes and will do them for me #genshin pantalone #genshin impact pantalone #pantalone #pantalone genshin #character design #i was listening to 'rest employed' by the stupendium when the urge to talk about his design overtook me

[levithestripper]

You’ll Always Be My Prince: Chapter Two—Scarred

go to the previous chapter || go to the next chapter || back to the series masterlist

chapter summary: laenor and laena velaryon are dead, passing within days of each other. laenor was killed in a quarrel with his lover, ser qarl, while laena died in childbirth. when the two valyrian families gathered at drifmark for the funeral, the targaryen’s brought their dragons with them.

brought to the funeral by her father, rhaella and aemond navigate the complex territories of a funeral, all while a now riderless vhagar is nowhere to be found.

chapter warnings: rhaella water’s pov, heavy angst, death mentions, grief/mourning, canon typical fighting, slight comforting, slight fluff, high valyrian usage.

high valyrian translations: -> Iksan Jacaerys; qilōni issi ao?: I am Jacaerys; who are you? -> Brōzio ñuha iksis Rhaella: My name is Rhaella. -> Ziry jorrāelagon ao; kessa sagon sȳz: He loves you; he will be fine.

length: 8.5k || read on ao3

notes: holy HELL this is a long chapter, but i enjoyed writing every bit of it. i couldn’t have done it without @aemonds-war-crime! she helped me so much with this chapter, PLEASE go show her and her wonderful writing some love! she deserves it ten times over for having to deal with my ass.

A pair of guards strung rope through handles attached to two stone caskets, effigies carved into them. The caskets sit higher than everyone else. Vaemond Velaryon, Daemon, and Rhaenyra Targaryen are stationed next to them, dressed in their best clothes.

Vaemond looks at his family before beginning his speech in High Valyrian, “We join together at the seat of the sea to commit Lady Laena and Lord Laenor of House Velaryon to the eternal waters and the Dominion of the Merling King. Where in his kingdom, he will guard them for all days to come; and they will be joined by their ancestors, in feast, and celebration.” The immediate family stood in a semi-circle behind Vaemond, whereas the extended family stood on the ledges behind them. Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys, and their granddaughters are behind him to the right, and Laenor’s sons are opposite, bringing up the left end. Rhaella stood between Jacaerys and Aemond. All wore black and dark greys except for Alicent’s children, who wore variants of dark forest greens accented by vibrant gold.

“As they set to the sea for their final voyage, Lady Laena leaves behind two true-born daughters on the shore, Lady Baela, and Rhaena Targaryen. Lord Laenor leaves behind three sons on the shore, Lords Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey Velaryon,” he continues, glaring at Rhaenyra. His eyes did not leave hers as he resumed the eulogy, “Though their parents will not return from their voyage, they will remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick, ours runs through, and ours must never thin. Laena and Laenor were tied together by the love only siblings share, a connection that not even the turmoil of death can break.”

Before Vaemond could finish his sentence, a childish giggle erupts from Daemon, sparking angry looks from everyone around them. He only stops when his niece elbows him in his ribs.

With an aggravated huff, Vaemond resumed once again. “My gentle niece; my gentle nephew. May the winds be as strong as your backs, the seas as calm as your spirits, and your nets as full as your hearts. May you rest easy now, for you are free to live eternal amongst the family we have lost, who we all will one day join.” The guards begin to lower the caskets into the ocean, letting go of the ropes. Tears stream down Rhaenys’ cheeks as she watches her babies laid to rest. Baela and Rhaena clung to either side of her, their faces buried in their grandmother’s dress, staining the silken fabric with salty tears. “From the sea, we came. To the sea, we shall return.” The caskets splash unceremoniously before sinking to the seafloor.

Dragons circle overhead as everyone retires to the castle, making their way out to a large rectangular balcony. Seasmoke and Meleys sit together on the grassy expanse next to the gathering, watching the others fly around and chase each other. Caraxes and Syrax weave about one another around the tall towers of Driftmark, excited screeches echoing off of the gray weathered stones. Caraxes’ snake-like body slithered around the winding turns gracefully, opposite Syrax’s jerky cuts right and left. Seasmoke is caught staring at the sea more than once, each time Meleys comforting him with a nuzzle of her head. Vhagar, Laena’s dragon, was nowhere to be seen. The last time she was spotted was just before the funeral began; a servant saw her flying along the coastline.

Jace and Luke sat on a bench, backs to the seaside, black cloaks covering them both like a sad blanket. Rhaella sat to the right of Jace, shoulders pressed against one another. None of them said a word, choosing to wallow in the thick depression hanging in the air. The smallest of them, Joffrey, preferred to sit on the floor between Luke’s legs, throwing a fit whenever Luke tried to set him on his lap.

Rhaella fiddles with her fingers, waffling over what to say. “I’m sorry about your father.” She didn’t look at her half-brothers when she spoke, keeping her gaze focused on her lap.

“It—It’s okay,” Jacaerys sniffles out, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. Half-dried tear tracks stain his freckled cheeks, eyes ringed with red and skin puffy. Even though they were already sitting shoulder to shoulder, Jace scooted closer to her, aching to be comforted. The hint wasn’t lost on Rhaella as she took his smaller hand within hers. “Mother said he’s in a better place now,” he said, the sadness in his voice clear as day.

Just as she was about to respond, Luke let out a pained sob. It sounded like he’d been holding it back for a long time. “Mother’s wrong! Daddy said he’d take me flying!” The boy gulps for air, tears streaking down his face. “He still has to take me—take me flying, he promised!” Jacaerys held his younger brother’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Luke presses his brother’s palm to his cheek. “Why did—” his voice cracks, “—he leave? Tell me why.” His tears pool between Jace’s fingers, soaking them both.

Lucerys’ outburst causes baby Joffrey to grow fussy, his grubby hands clawing at Luke’s legs, begging to be picked up and cuddled. Lucerys let go of Jace’s hand to pick the toddler up, settling the boy against his chest. He rocks back and forth, calming them both down some. 

Before long, Rhaenyra notices the trouble and relieves her son, Joffrey. The boy instantly settled down once in his mother’s arms, quickly falling asleep. Rhaenyra cards her fingers through Luke’s curls, comforting him. His arms wrap around her thigh, pressing his whole body against her. “How are you holding up, my love?” She asks her eldest. 

He shrugged, “Fine, I guess.” Rhaella’s hand lay still on the small of his back, Rhaenyra’s presence filling her with nerves. Jace laid his head on her shoulder, doing his best to comfort her as well. “I like that Rhaella is here.”

Rhaenyra smiles at them as she kneels down to pick Lucerys up, resting him in the dip of her hip bone. The boy presses his face into the crook of her neck. “It’s nice to see you making friends, Jace.” 

“I’ve been teaching her the Valyrian I know. She’s really good at it! Better than me, anyway,” he said proudly, the sadness from his voice departing for a moment. 

The princess chuckled, happy to see her son in better spirits. “Oh really? Can I hear some?” 

He nods, lifting his head up and turning to look at Rhaella. “Iksan Jacaerys; qilōni issi ao?”

“Brōzio ñuha iksis Rhaella,” she responds with ease, a big grin on her face. It wasn’t every day she got to show off her High Valyrian skills in front of the princess.

Rhaenyra’s visibly impressed; surprised someone not tutored by a Maester can speak so fluently, even if it is only a short sentence. “Your pronunciation is excellent, both of you. How long has Jace been teaching you?”

A blush spread over her freckled cheeks, the nerves in her belly morphing into pride. “Thank you, milady. I’ve only been learning for a couple months, I think.”

“You can speak plainly, child, no need for formalities here.” Rhaenyra interrupts, adjusting a sleeping Lucerys.

Rhaella smiles shyly, growing even more flustered than before. “Thank you. Jace brings me the sheets the Maesters give him to study from, and we study together. He always comes up with funny ways to help us remember words.” Jace nodded in agreement.

“I’m glad you two are having fun,” she said, words filled with affection. “Come find me when you learn more phrases, Rhaella, and I’ll help you with your sentence building, okay?”

She giggles excitedly, shaking her head yes. “Okay!”

Princess Rhaenyra excuses herself soon after, leaving the reception to put her sons to bed. Rhaella watches her as she walks away, eyes meeting with the twins Baela and Rhaena. Even through their grief, their gazes are cold and hard; compared to Rhaella’s neutral one. Why are they glaring at us? Before she gets the chance to ask her half-brother anything, Aemond appears in front of them, blocking her from the twins’ view.

“Aemond! You surprised me,” she gasps, looking up at him with a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. “Sit with us!” She makes room for him on the bench, leaving her in the middle. Despite her excited tone, Rhaella kept her voice down.

Before sitting, Aemond bows slightly toward Jacaerys, offering his condolences for the loss of his father. Whether Jace saw it, he did not know, for the boy didn’t acknowledge him. Jacaerys sat up again, stretching. “I’m going to find Mother; thanks for the company.” 

“Of course, Jace,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you later?” He responds with a nod before walking away.

Aemond watched him leave, continuing after he was out of earshot. “I saw you talking to Princess Rhaenyra. What did she want? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

She shook her head no. “I’m not in trouble, don’t worry. She was checking on Jacaerys and Lucerys. I got a chance to show off my Valyrian, too!” 

Pride washes over Aemond, and so does a smile. “Did she like it?” Rhaella nods. “I’m so happy for you, Rhae.”

“Thank you,” she smiles back at him, eyes shining. “Where did you come from? I haven’t seen you all day,” she asks, changing the topic.

Irritation replaced his prideful expression, but it wasn’t directed at Rhaella. “I’ve been stuck with Aegon all day. He kept pushing me in front of the serving girls and making fun of me for not liking it,” he huffs. “He’s so gross.”

Rhae nods, making a gagging noise, both gigging at it. “He’s so weird.” She glances behind Aemond, finding the twins still staring at her. Okay, they’re definitely looking at me, she thought. “Hey, Ae?”

“Hm?”

“Baela and Rhaena are staring at us–me. I don’t think they like me,” Rhaella spoke quietly to not be overheard. 

His face screws up in confusion. “Why wouldn't they like you? That’s impossible!”

Nerves fluttered in the pit of her stomach again. Her fingers tingle and ache, leading her to wring her hands together to try and alleviate the pain. “I don’t know why they wouldn’t like me. They should; we’re half-siblings, after all.” Rhaella breaks Aemond’s gaze, looking down at her lap. 

Turning around, he sees the same thing Rhae did: Baela and Rhaena staring daggers at her. They’re dressed in loose-fitting all-black dresses, curly silver hair done in fancy, twisted braids. “I’m sure they don’t mean to stare at you. They’re probably just–just zoning out. Funerals are hard.” Ae took her hand in his, rubbing the pain out of her thin fingers, prompting Rhaella to lift her head up again.

“You’re probably right,” she sighs dejectedly. “I don’t need more people to hate me.”

Aemond frowns, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb soothingly. “Hey, it’ll be okay. You don’t have to be friends with them. They don’t have to be friends with you. Who cares what they think, anyways? I know you’re awesome, you know you’re awesome, and that’s all that matters.”

A small smile threatens the frown on her face; Aemond’s words never fail to lighten her spirits. “You’re right, Ae. Thank you,” she said, a smile spreading across her lips once more. 

“Don’t apologize. That’s what friends do.” He squeezes her hand reassuringly. “And besides, I don’t like seeing you sad.”

——————

The bedroom is dark, illuminated by the full moon outside. A king-sized bed is against the wall in the middle of the room with a canopy top. A vanity is on the other wall, adorned with a fancy mirror and more drawers than they could count. The stool was an inch too tall, making it a struggle to try and sit there. Clothes are strewn everywhere, crumpled and developing wrinkles. Giggling echoed off the walls, pairing well with the grins on Aemond and Rhaella’s faces.

“Turn around!” Rhaella commands, standing on the opposite side of the bed from him. She held her pajamas to her chest, eager to get changed and go to bed after such a long day.

Aemond couldn’t help but giggle again, turning around as she ordered. It lasted barely a few seconds before he turned back to look at her, causing them to laugh.

“Ae!” she exclaims, incapable of withholding her smile from him.

He grins at her. “Okay, okay!” He turns around again and puts his hands over his eyes for extra protection. Aemond was already in his pajamas, his clothes the ones left on the floor. He wore a loose-fitting shirt and pants, his hair undone and messy. “Are you dressed yet?”

Rhaella steps into her shorts and pulls the shirt over her head quickly. “I’m dressed; you’re good!” She moved to sit at the vanity, struggling to get on the too-tall chair. Once comfortable, she brushed through her silver-brown hair, removing the braids as she went. Aemond appears behind her, just the top of his head and eyes visible above her shoulder in the mirror.

“Do you need help with your braids?” he asks, fidgeting with a strand of his hair, his nerves getting the best of him. 

She smiles, “Could you? I hate doing it myself; I always get it tangled.” 

Aemond nodded, beginning to untie the braid closest to him. “You have such pretty hair, Rhae. Much prettier than mine.” He let her hair thread through his fingers, seemingly entranced by the mixing of the two different colors. “Your hair is so soft.”

The girl hums appreciatively. “You have beautiful hair too, Ae. Beautiful hair of a silver dragon.” Her words bring a blush to his face, and he adverts his eyes, focusing intently on undoing more braids. 

“No, I don’t. Yours is so much better than plain silver could ever be.” 

“Oh hush, you have beautiful hair; deal with it,” Rhaella giggles, brushing out the last of her hair. “Thank you for helping me, Ae. You did a great job.” She fans her hair out with her hands, showing off their handiwork. Aemond happily watches,  affection plastered on his face. She hops off the chair and flops on the bed, sighing cheerfully. He joined her, their hair splayed out above their heads, mixing together. “Today was so long!”

“And depressing,” he adds.

Rhaella nods. “I’m glad it’s over. I can’t wait to go home tomorrow.” 

“Me too.” Aemond stretches and groans, sighing.

The pair lay on the bed for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence together. Rhaella snuggles into Aemond’s side, using his arm as a pillow. He flexed, shifting to a more comfy spot before Rhaella could settle. She could hear the beating of his heart through his arm, a sense of calm washing over her as she listened. Something about hearing Ae simply existing comforts her beyond belief. 

The sounds of dragons flying overhead brought comfort to them both, reminding them of home. Sunfyre’s pitchy screech echos off the walls, closely followed by a snap and a growl from Dreamfyre. What sounded like laughter came right after, almost like the two dragons were telling jokes to one another. 

Aemond’s eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, already fallen asleep. He looks so peaceful like this, she thought. He never falls asleep before I do. Rhaella pulled the comforter over them, tucking it under her chin, wiggling. She fell asleep soon after, head tucked into Ae’s side.

Before Rhaella could fall into a deep sleep, she was awoken by a banging at the door, and she and Aemond bolted up groggily. Daemon Targaryen leaned against the doorframe. If looks could kill, little Aemond Targaryen would be dead in a ditch somewhere. Daemon wore a plain gray tunic with golden buckles down the front and dragon scale sleeves folded across his chest. His hair was pulled back in a sloppy half ponytail, clearly done in a rush. Dark Sister rests at his hip, surrounding him in a violent, threatening aura. “Why are you not in your own chambers, Rhaella?” he jabs, lips curled in frustration.

Rhaella groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with clenched fists. “What?” she asked, her voice laden with exhaustion.

“Why’re you with him; instead of in your room, where you belong,” Daemon growled, jerking his head at a trembling Aemond. The boy nearly fell out of bed, stumbling over his feet as he struggled to pull his clothes on. 

Her mouth fell open to respond, but words refused to come out. “Father! I—We—” 

Aemond interrupted her. “We weren’t doing anything gross! We were having a sleepover; ever heard of it?” 

Daemon’s eyebrows raise in astonishment, caught off guard. A sneer forms on his lips. “A sleepover, is it?” he repeated mockingly.

His violet eyes shone with anger. “That’s right. Suppose they didn’t exist when you were a child,” Aemond bites back, forming a cocky smirk of his own. 

The anointed knight gripped the hilt of his sword, a silent threat against the child’s life. Before things could escalate further, Rhaella fumbled out of bed and put herself between them, facing Aemond. “I’ll be right back, okay?” She doesn’t wait for his answer, dragging her father into the hallway by the hand, still in her pajamas. “What was that!?” 

Daemon’s expression hadn’t changed, shock still written across his sharp features. “‘What was that?!’ What were you doing in bed with a boy?!” 

“If you bothered to talk to me more, you’d know! I can’t believe you!” Rhaella yelled back, pulling at her hair angrily. “Me and Aemond have sleepovers! He’s my only friend! The only person in King’s Landing who talks to me!” Tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Why did you bring me here?!” she sniffs, trying her best not to cry.

Hearing his daughter in such distress flips a switch inside him. He’s dealt with crying, fighting, and even the occasional vomit when the twins were little, but the screaming was an entirely new ballpark for him. Baela and Rhaena were good children in their lack of temper tantrums. “I brought you here, Rhaella, for you to learn how to become a proper lady of the court,” Daemon explains, doing his best to stay calm and refrain from raising his voice.

“But why! Why do you want me to be some stuffy, stuck-up lady of the court?!” Rhaella’s hands pull at her hair again, ruining the work she put into brushing it. Her father bent down on one knee, eye level with her. Cautiously, he reaches up to remove her hands from her head, taking them within his own. Daemon’s palms engulfed Rhaella’s, her fingers barely reaching his second knuckles.

Daemon looks her in the eye, speaking softly, “Because you are my daughter.” Rhaella quieted but clearly wasn’t convinced. “Have I ever told you who your mother is?”

She shook her head no.

“Your mother,” he pauses, squeezing her hand, “Your mother was beautiful, just like you are. She was brown of hair with eyes to match and taller than you could ever imagine. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, Rhaella?”

“No. Other than you found my mother pretty,” she frowned, looking away from him.

He tilted her head up, ensuring she was looking at him. “Your mother was a Baratheon, making you highborn. That is why I want you here.”

Rhaella gave in to her tears, letting them run down her face in fat streams. “I’m still a bastard, Father. That’s all I’ll ever be!” Daemon pulled her into his chest, arms wrapping around her tiny frame, letting her cry into his shoulder. Attempting to calm her, he rocks her side to side like he would an infant. Unbeknownst to them, Baela and Rhaena were spying on them from the end of the hallway, their jealousy greater than ever. 

Daemon held her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. He wipes the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs, soothing her. “When you’re older, there’s a chance I can legitimize you.”

She sniffles, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. “Legitimize?” 

“I could declare you my trueborn daughter, making you a Targaryen princess.” Rhaella gasps at that, eyes lighting up. “Does that sound like something you’d want?”

“You could—You could really do that?” she asks, voice filled with hope. The roar of a dragon is heard outside. The twins rush off to investigate, clearly bored of watching their father.

His thumb strokes her cheek. “It’d require a royal decree from the King, but yes, it can be done. But not until you’re older. Waiting will give you a better claim to the Targaryen name.” 

Rhaella broke out of her father’s grasp to hug him, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Thank you, Father.” He reciprocated the embrace, nuzzling his head into Rhaella’s tiny shoulder. “I’m sorry about what me and Aemond said. I didn’t mean it, and I’m sure he didn’t either.”

“Thank you, Rhaella; I’m sorry too. It was wrong of me to yell at you like that.” Daemon carded a hand through her hair, kissing her forehead. “Go back to your sleepover; it’s late.” 

She hugs him again before retreating to the door. “Goodnight, Father.”

Daemon smiles. “Goodnight, darling.” After watching Rhaella enter Aemond’s chambers, he returns to his own.

Back in her empty room, Rhaella paced in circles, clawing her mind for ideas. Aemond was nowhere to be found, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Where is Aemond? I was gone for like a minute! Rhaella wonders, looking around the room for him. A tremendous gust of wind blew through the open archways leading to the balcony, blowing her hair off her shoulders and making her squint. I never saw him leave; where in the world did he go? She ran to the balcony to investigate what brought such a gust, only to find a spectacle that took the girl’s breath away.

Vhagar, the oldest living dragon in Westeros and the beloved dragon of the late Queen Visenya Targaryen. The she-dragon’s enormous body crushed the veranda where the reception had happened earlier that day. Rhaella believed her vision was failing her as she could not see the beginning or end of Vhagar, seeing only the wrinkling skin of her protruding ribcage and her hole-riddled wings. Vhagar reared her head and roared. The sound reverberated right through poor Rhaella, vibrations running through the stone and up her legs, causing her to shake involuntarily. She gazed upon a blond speck dropping to the ground, watching as the figure walked into view.

It’s Aemond! What in Seven Hells is he doing out there? Aemond disappeared from her sight just as quickly as he had entered it, leaving for the attached tunnel that leads back inside Driftmark. A sense of urgency washed over Rhaella. She turned and rushed back inside, quickly pulling on the nearest outside clothes she could find, which just so happened to be Aemond’s spare tunic and breeches. Rhaella ran out of the room, turning left down the hallway and sprinting down the steep stairs. Her footsteps echo throughout the winding halls, stealth be damned. 

Loud yelling rips through the hall, sending a shiver of fear down Rhaella’s spine. What was that? That sounded like Ae… She continued her way down, cautiously now. A door appeared at the end of the long corridor, left wide open for anyone to enter as they wished. The girl tiptoed past the door, and what she saw horrified her. 

“Vhagar was my mother’s dragon!” Baela said, her sister Rhaena standing next to her. Jacaerys and Lucerys stood a foot or two behind them, both still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. 

He wore the same tunic he did that morning, making Rhaella’s borrowed outfit stand out even more than it already did. “Your mother’s dead,” Aemond snapped, “Vhagar has a new rider now.”

Baela cut him off. “She was mine to claim! Vhagar belonged to me! You stole my dragon!” Her voice warbled as if she were on the brink of tears. “Give her back!”

“If you wanted her, then you should’ve claimed her!” A slight smirk formed on the corners of his lips. His gaze flicked over to Jace and Luke. “Perhaps your cousins could find you a pig to ride. You’re small enough; I’m sure you’ll find one. It would suit you,” he sneers. 

Aemond’s words caused Baela to snap. She rushed towards the older boy, shoving him back and catching him off guard. Aemond pushed Baela off him, and the girl fell to the dirt floor. Her sister, Rhaena, follows quickly, landing a punch to his cheek. Aemond hits the ground with a pained gasp but swiftly recovers to return the blow.

He brushes the hair from his face, “Come at me again, and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” he threatens, glaring at both girls. 

The dirt leaves stains on the knees of her breeches. Rhaella looks away, hurrying to hide behind a rock. Her hands cover everything but her eyes, terrified of the scene playing in front of her. Tears begin to form along her waterline, and she’s so overstimulated she can’t pinpoint why. Her limbs feel like lead, and her brain feels full of static. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. Ae’s never acted like this before… He doesn’t fight people; he’s not mean like everyone else is. 

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by a yell from Jacaerys as he lands a formidable jab to Aemond’s diaphragm. The two trade punches, Aemond’s landing far more frequently than Jace’s. Watching her best friend and half-brother beat each other up was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Rhae, tears now rolling down her cheeks freely. 

Aemond kicked Jacaerys’ legs out from under him, and the boy landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him. No sooner did Jace fall, Lucerys lunged at Aemond. He didn’t get very far, as Aemond punched him square in the face, breaking the six-year-old’s nose. Jace regained his footing and shoved Aemond to the ground. The four circled him, kicking and punching the ten-year-old anywhere possible. Baela and Rhaena kneeled on either side, slamming their boney fists into his ribcage while Jacaerys straddled his waist, alternating blows between his diaphragm and jawbone. They all screamed, grunted, and groaned, the commotion surely waking everyone in the castle.

I have’ta help him; this isn’t fair! Rhaella’s tiny frame shook with nerves, anxiety coursing through her veins. The lead once present in her limbs disappeared. It felt like her legs moved by themselves, ignorant of the danger ahead. She ran up behind Jacaerys and gripped the back of his tunic, but the boy wouldn’t budge. The twins’ heads swiveled to see who joined them, scowls spreading across their faces when seeing who it was.

“What are you doing here?!” Rhaena jabs, face screwing up with disgust.

Baela kept the scowl she wore. “No one wants you here, bastard. Why don’t you run back to your daddy.”

Aemond struggled underneath the Velaryon boys, Rhaella’s voice shocking him. “Rhae?! What are you doing here?” 

She glared right back at her half-sisters, her violet-brown eyes mixed with anger and fear. “I came looking for Aemond. He wasn’t in his chambers; I got worried.” Fear is evident in her voice, breaking her thinly veiled shield of bravery. “Now, leave him alone.”

“Leave him alone?” Baela mocks, “He stole my mother’s dragon! He’s a thief, and thieves get punished!” She kicks the boy in the ribs as if it would prove her point. Jacaerys remained seated on Aemond’s lap, effectively pinning him to the floor with the help of his brother. 

Rhaena stalks toward her with malicious intent. “Now, bastard, go back to that loving daddy you have before you get hurt.” She pulls a knife out from a secret pocket inside her dress. “Quit gettin’ involved in matters that don’t concern you.”

She tries to back away, but her feet stay rooted in the dirt. Her eyes widen at the sight of the shiny silver blade. The hilt was simple but ornate, a dark wooden handle decorated with flecks of gold and dotted with sapphires and rubies. Still, Rhaella held firm, straightening her back and looking Rhaena in the eye. “This does concern me! Aemond is no thief! You can’t steal a dragon; you don’t own them like some dog! Stop hurting my friend just because you don’t have the guts to ride a dragon!” Rhaella shoved her backward, defiance exuding from her. 

“Aww, look at her, sister!” she calls to Baela, a smirk gracing her lips, “Look at the little princess, coming to save her beloved prince,” they both laugh mockingly. “Go on! Save your little boyfriend.” Rhaena twirls the dagger between her fingers as a silent threat. 

Her lips pressed together in barely contained anger, eyes flicking between her half-sisters and half-brothers. Aemond’s focus never wavered from the knife in Rhaena’s hand, watching the blade’s every move. Just as Rhaella opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off, drawing the attention back to him. “Now you leave her alone! You have no reason to be mad at her!”

The twins turn around to face him. “No reason?” Baela responds. “This little bastard stole our father from us! She gets all of his attention, all of his love, all of his praise! He didn’t check on us after our mother—his wife—died! Or after her funeral! He went to make sure his precious little Rhaella Waters was okay! He cares more for this, this bastard, over his trueborn daughters!” Rhaena spun her dagger once more. “We have every reason to be mad at her!”

“Well, perhaps if you tried being nice, Prince Daemon would like you!” Aemond shot back, wiggling underneath Jacaerys’ grasp. He snickers at the appalled faces the girls made, proud of his comeback. “It’s not Rhaella’s fault she’s a bastard like her strong brothers!” Jacaerys and Lucerys gasp synchronously, letting their guard down for a split second. Aemond used this, escaping from the boys’ grasp and jumping to his feet. 

The boys tumble to the ground, hitting their heads hard. Lucerys wasted no time retaliating, rushing to shove Aemond back to the floor. But the older boy was too quick for him, fist colliding against Luke’s nose with a sickening crunch. Luke crumpled to the floor, clutching his face and crying. Jace followed suit, running towards him, only to get knocked to the ground again. 

Aemond’s knuckles are bloody and bruised, a few split open and bleeding. His face faired no better, the crimson color of blood complimenting the black and blue bruises forming along his cheekbones. A sickening sight it was, causing Rhaella’s stomach to churn. Aemond quickly bent down to grab a hefty-sized rock and lifted it over his head as if he planned to smash Lucerys’ skull to a pulp. Before speaking, he looked to Baela and Rhaena, ensuring they were listening. “If you dare to threaten or mock Rhaella again, I’ll burn you four alive, then feed you to Vhagar. Just like your parents.” He eyed the two Velaryon boys, still seated on the dirty floor. “Isn’t that right, my Lord Strongs?”  

“Ae, please!” Rhaella begs, desperate for the violence to stop. “You don’t need to do this, please; let’s just go!” Unfortunately, the poor girl was ignored by everyone there. It was like they’d completely forgotten she was there.

The fighting was quick to resume once more. Jacaerys shared a glace with his brother and half-sisters, the three sharing a slight nod of agreement. Rhaena silently tossed her dagger to Luke, and the sisters backed away, giving them ample room. Aemond lowers his rock arm for a moment when he sees the girls retreating, believing the fight to be over. Taking advantage of the presented opportunity, Jace throws a handful of bloody dirt in Aemond’s face, momentarily blinding him.

Holding the dagger firm in his tiny hand, Lucerys lunges at Prince Aemond. The blade slices his pale skin beautifully. The knife’s edge ran up and up until the tip hit his eye, not stopping until the middle of his forehead. Aemond released a blood-curdling scream, dropping the rock to clutch his marred face. He landed on a pile of hay next to the wall, curled up in a fetal position. One could hear Vhagar roar from outside, but none seemed to hear.

Just as Rhaella moved to run to him, her half-sisters blocked the way. Rhaena grasped her by the shoulders, holding her still, allowing her sister to land a well-aimed punch to the girl’s nose, breaking it with a snap. Blood rushed from her nose, coating her lips and chin, dripping to the floor. Her scream mimicked Aemond’s but with less intensity. Satisfied with the damage they caused, they permitted Rhaella to pass them by, snickering as the girl collapsed next to the prince. Her chest heaved as she tried to regain her breath. Blood still gushed from her nose, staining her tunic. Next to her, Aemond was still groaning, sobs wracking through his body, causing the poor boy to shake.

Finally alerted to the commotion, Lord Commander Ser Harrold Westerling, Ser Lorent Marbrand, and Ser Steffon Darklyn flooded the corridor. All holding torches, they wore the full plate armor uniform of the Kingsguard, swords at their hip and helmet covering most of their faces. Ser Lorent attended to Jace and Luke, and Ser Steffon checked over Baela and Rhaena. Ser Lorent wiped the boys’ faces of blood and dirt with a hanky pulled from a pouch on his belt before rolling two new handkerchiefs for Lucerys to shove up his nose to curb the bleeding.  

“Cease this madness at once!” shouted Ser Harrold. “Everyone stand aside! Back away from the Prince!” Tossing his torch to the ground, the knight rushed directly to Prince Aemond, gently rolling him onto his back, speaking soft words of comfort to him. “My Prince, let me see.” His gloved hand pet Aemond’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. The other gently pried the prince’s hand away from his face, exposing his wound. Ser Harrold audibly gasped at the sight of it. The cut was deep and long, splitting the skin in half like a cut of choice meat. Aemond’s once beautiful violet eye now looks like a smashed grape, green insides on display, puss and blood oozing out. His eyebrow is split in half, the wound deep enough to see bone if it’s looked at from the correct angle. Aemond could barely keep his eye uncovered for Ser Harrold to see it, immediately covering it back up once he finished inspecting it. “Who is responsible for this, my Prince?” 

“Those bastards!” Aemond groaned out, shakily pointing to Jacaerys and his brother. 

Ser Harrold turned to look at the boys, then to his fellow Kingsguard. “Escort the Prince and Princesses to the throne room and alert the King and their parents.” The knights nod curtly, quickly herding the children out. Harrold shifts to look over Rhaella. Her nose stopped bleeding, and she sat up slightly, back leaning against the cold, dirty stone wall. “Are you alright, my lady?” he asks gently, handing her a handkerchief. 

She accepted the help eagerly, wiping the blood off her face, avoiding touching her nose. “No, I think my—my nose is broken. It hurts so much, and it’s throb-throbbing,” Rhaella stutters, the pain making it hard to speak. She hands the hanky back, watching the knight fold it back into the pouch he pulled it from. 

“Can you walk? We need to get you to the maester.”

Rhaella thought for a moment before nodding. “I can walk.”

“Good.” Ser Harrold gently scooped the prince into his arms, cradling him like one would hold an infant. Rhaella slowly got to her feet, using the knight’s armor to steady herself.

——————

“How could you let this happen?!” King Viserys roared from his makeshift throne. Everyone who was anyone is gathered in the throne room, all watching the scene playing out in front of them. Prince Daemon stood by his niece, Rhaenrya, with Rhaella hiding behind her father’s leg. Across the room, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys stood with their granddaughters. Baela and Rhaena stand beside their grandmother with proud smirks on their faces. The rest of the room was filled with either family’s personal guards, including Ser Criston Cole and the other members of Viserys’ Kingsguard.

Ser Harrold stood next to the king, overlooking the crowd. “We believed him to be in his chambers, Your Grace.”

Placed across from his father, Prince Aemond sat in a too-large chair, wincing as the maester stitched his face shut. Queen Alicent Hightower, his mother, stood beside him, anxiously watching the maester’s every move. His brother, Prince Aegon, stood behind them both, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace next to him, ignoring the events happening around him. Alicent picks at her fingernails ‘till they bled. “Will it heal, maester? Will he be okay?”

Finishing the stitch he was working on, Maester Kelvyn methodically set his needle down onto the small surgical tray next to him. He dabs away the excess blood on Aemond’s face, folding the hanky and placing it next to the needle. “He will live, Your Grace, but the eye is lost.” Maester Kelvyn cut and tied the thread dangling from the Prince’s cheek as gently as he could. “Apologies for the pain, My Prince. I’ll send you to bed with milk of the poppy, should you request it.” 

There were no less than twenty stitches preventing the prince from bleeding out. Starting at the middle of his forehead and stopping at the top of his ear, Aemond’s face is shiny with sweat, puss, and whatever kind of salve the maester dabbed onto the stitching. The eye itself is also sewn shut, closed to the world forever. Most of his eyebrow was gone, thanks to the maester shaving it off, as he needed that room for stitching.

“Thank you, Maester Kelvyn,” Alicent responded for her son, wanting him to speak as little as possible to prevent any further, unneeded pain. She cups his unmarred cheek, stroking his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb, kissing his forehead.

Viserys stood from his throne, leaning heavily on his cane. “Now, someone tell me what happened!” he bellowed. The children all start talking at once, causing a commotion.

“They attacked me!” Aemond points at Jacaerys and his brother, then toward Baela and Rhaena.

Jace’s mouth hung open in shock. “He started it; he attacked Baela and broke Luke’s nose!”

Baela barely waited for Jace to finish, barreling over him. “Aemond stole my mother’s dragon! He stole her from me! Make him give Vhagar back; he doesn’t deserve her!” she yells, all but throwing a temper tantrum.

“I didn’t steal anything!” he snapped back. “And you and Rhaena broke Rhaella’s nose!” A pang of surprise ran through her, not expecting her injuries to be acknowledged.

“Who cares about her!?” Rhaena rebutted. “She’s a bastard!” Daemon visibly bristled at his daughter’s comment. 

In an attempt to gain control over the situation, King Viserys called for the shouting to stop, but the children couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Not wanting to be left out of the argument, Lucerys piped up. “Well, you tried to kill Jace!”

“I did not!” rebutted Prince Aemond. 

The room was filled with the sound of arguing children, their words stringing together, making their arguments inaudible. Looking back and forth between them, Alicent suggested Aemond tell what happened, but the Queen was drowned out.

After a few minutes of pure yelling from the four of them, Jacaerys’ voice rang out above the rest. His yelling was directed at Aemond, like before. “He called us—” The sentence quickly died as the words left the six-year-old’s lips, stopping as he realized what exactly he was about to say. Looking up at his mother, Jace whispered the rest in her ear.

He wouldn’t have been able to finish his sentence anyways, as Viserys shouted for silence, which worked this time. A long, uncomfortable silence washed over the crowd. People looked at one another, none daring to be the first to break. Princess Rhaenrya stood in front of her sons, shielding them from any prying eyes that might be present. It was the King who broke the silence. “Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened. Now.”

Alicent answered for her son once more. “What more is there to hear? Your son has been brutally maimed!” She pointed to Rhaenrya. “Her son is responsible.”

“It was a profoundly regrettable accident,” Rhaenrya responded curtly, arms around her children.

The Queen looked at her husband. “Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He clearly intended to kill my son, to kill our son.” The King did not respond, as he did not have the chance, his daughter speaking quicker than he could.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves,” she snapped. “Your son levied vile insults against them.”

Aemond interrupted his half-sister in defense of Rhaella. “Baela and Rhaena insulted Prince Daemon’s daughter, too! They’re not innocent in this! They’re the ones who broke her nose, too!”

The twins shot daggers at him, clearly unhappy they were ratted on. “Well, it’s not an insult because that’s what she is, and that’s all she’ll ever be!” Rhaenys gasped, surprised that her granddaughter would say or do such things. Prince Daemon’s expression mirrored Rhaenys’, clearly upset that his children would do something like that.

Viserys took control of the room once more, “Silence, everyone! Are we not civilized enough to speak of this without screaming at one another?!” The room went quiet again, a few people looking down at their feet from the embarrassment of being reprimanded. “Rhaenrya, continue what you were saying, please. What were these insults?” he asked, voice lowered significantly. Viserys sat back down with a groan. 

The Princess nodded, “Thank you, Father,” she continued, “The legitimacy of my son’s birth was loudly questioned.”

“What?” Viserys questioned. 

Jacaerys spoke to his grandfather in a quiet voice. “He called us bastards.” Aemond couldn’t help but crack a smirk, proud of himself and unafraid to show it.

Choosing this moment to address his brother, Daemon spoke up for Rhaella. “Your Grace, my daughter was assaulted and humiliated, too, and you seem not to care!” He reached down to hold Rhaella’s hand, which she accepted happily.

“Brother, you have no argument with me. Rhaella is a bastard, unlike my grandsons,” he sighed, hand rubbing at his forehead. “According to my son, it was your trueborn children who assaulted your bastard, so that is not my problem to solve.”

Daemon didn’t bother to respond, chewing the inside of his cheek angrily. He gave Rhaella’s hand a squeeze, kneeling down to her level. “I will get you the justice you deserve, darling.” 

She nodded, sniffing her stuffed nose loudly. “Th-Thank you.” Is he really going to do that for me? A bastard worth nothing? A slight smile graced her face when her father kissed her forehead.

Rhaenrya ran her fingers through her son’s curly hair. “Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned to find out where he heard such vile slanders.” Shocked faces washed over the crowd; everyone was stunned that the princess would plainly suggest torturing her kid brother.

“Over an insult!? My son has lost an eye!” Alicent exclaimed.

Rhaenrya did not respond, choosing to stare the Queen down instead, which was response enough. 

The King did not entertain such propositions, thankfully. Instead, he stood from the Driftwood Throne and hobbled to stand in front of his son. His balding head shone in the firelight. Looking down at the boy, he questions him. “Tell me, boy, where did you hear such lies like these?”

Aemond gnawed on his bottom lip, planning his options in his head. The room is silent, save for the King’s heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire. The young prince looked everywhere but at his father; as if he were trying to find a way to escape from answering the question. He looked back at Rhaella, who was still cowering behind her father’s leg. Seeing this, his mother defended him. “The insult was training yard bluster, nothing more. The lot of boys; it was nothing.”

Viserys ignored Alicent entirely. “Aemond, I asked you a question.” The prince looked up at him, defiance exuding from the one eye he had left. “Aemond, look at me.” Viserys’ tone had changed completely. Now it is cold and demanding, whereas before, one could hear a sliver of compassion. “Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Alicent’s chest heaved with panicked breath as she glanced between her husband and two sons. Her eyes met with Aemond’s. Aemond held her gaze for a few seconds before looking at his brother. The tense silence in the room grew deadly, no one daring to move a muscle or breathe too loudly. Finally, after what felt like a decade, Prince Aemond spoke. “It was Aegon who told me.” Viserys looked to his eldest son, who was pulled out of his trance when he heard his name called.

“Me?” he asked, clearly disorientated.

Viserys stalked towards Aegon, his cane smacking the ground irreverently. “And you, boy. Where did you come to hear such slanderous lies?” When the boy did not answer immediately, the King yelled in his face. Aegon’s features scrunched together in displeasure and discomfort. It looked like he could cry.

“Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!” the King shouted.

Prince Aegon’s eyes never left the floor. He spoke in a calculated manner as if he feared his father would slap him if he were to say the wrong thing. “We know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them,” he said, voice no more than a whisper. 

The King stepped away from Aegon, scanning the crowd. He leaned heavily on his cane, breath raggedy. Viserys shouted once more but directed it at the entirety of his family this time. “This unending infighting must cease, all of you! We are a family!” Aemond glared up at his father, eyebrows furrowed with anger. Viserys looked to Rhaenrya, then to his wife, Alicent. “Now, make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!” With one last look, he began the shuffle back to his chambers. Aemond’s eye followed his father, hooded and indifferent, almost depressed.

Alicent’s expression was one of despair as well. Her voice warbled with unspoken emotion. “That is insufficient.” Viserys turned to look at her, stunned she’d spoken against him. “Aemond has been permanently damaged, My King. ‘Good will’ cannot make my son whole once again!” she sounded as if she were moments away from breaking down into tears. 

“I know, Alicent,” he responds, “but I cannot restore his eye!”

“No, because it has been taken from him!” she rebutted.

Viserys looked exasperated with her. “Well, what would you have me do then?!”

Alicent’s voice slowly changed from bordering on tears to bordering on anger. “There is a debt to be paid! I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.” The room erupted into murmurs of shock and disturbance. Aemond looked at her, shocked she would say a thing like that. But he didn’t look mad about it.

Rhaenrya pushed her children behind her. Lucerys started to whine. Rhaenrya’s personal guards grab the hilts of their swords, prepared if an altercation were to occur. Rhaella gasps with the crowd, clutching Daemon’s breeches in her fists. Could they do such a thing to them? she wondered. 

“My dear wife—”

The Queen cut him off. “He is your son, Viserys. Your blood!” she pleads, now on the cliff of a tearful breakdown.

King Viserys spoke in a manner one would scold a child in. “Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment.” The pair shared a heated stare. Believing that to be the end of things, Viserys turned to limp away, but that was not the case.

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon. He may choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.” Tears streak down Queen Alicent’s cheeks. 

The boy shrieked, hiding behind his mother’s skirts. “Mother! Don’t let him!”

“You will do no such thing!” commanded Princess Rhaenrya.

The King also commanded for peace. “Stay your hand!”

“No, you are sworn to me!” Alicent motions for the knight to obey, which he heeds, drawing his dagger. 

Ser Criston had no chance to fulfill his orders as the King spoke again. “Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?” He reprimanded his wife as if she were an impudent child incapable of telling right from wrong. The room settled in a deathly silence once again. “And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.” 

His daughter thanked him, her tone picking at the already loose scab of her and Alicent’s relationship. 

Just as Viserys turned, Alicent reached around him to snatch his Valyrian steel dagger, running towards Princess Rhaenrya to take Lucerys’ eye herself. The Kingsguard yells orders to one another to protect the King and his children, and Viserys calls for his wife, but to no avail. 

Prince Daemon grabs Rhaella’s hand the moment violence breaks out. He turns tail and rushes his daughter out of the room, leaving the family discord behind. “I can’t leave! Aemond is still in there; what if something more happens to him!” she protests, looking behind her as she’s led to her own chambers. Sorrow bubbles in her chest. Walking the winding hallways and long staircases at the quick pace Daemon set wiped her out quickly, so when she saw the doors to her room, she was ecstatic.

“Prince Aemond will be fine; you need not worry.” Daemon opened the door to her room. “I couldn’t have you in there and risk you getting injured again. You understand why we had to leave, Rhaella?”

The girl sighed but nodded. “I’m scared, Father. What if he gets hurt again? What if the stitches don’t—what if the stitches don’t work?” Tears well in her pretty mix-matched eyes again, rolling down her freckled cheeks. Her father bent to one knee and opened his arms, offering a hug which she accepted eagerly. 

Daemon squeezed her. “He’ll be okay, honey.”

“How do you know?”

He chuckles softly, a slight smile gracing his lips. “Because I am your father. I know everything.” That elicited a giggle from Rhaella. Daemon whispered to her in High Valyrian. “Ziry jorrāelagon ao; kessa sagon sȳz.”

“What does that mean?” she asks.

“He loves you; he will be fine.”

#series: you'll always be my prince #oc: daereon targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc #aemond one eye #aemond one eye targaryen #aemond kinslayer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x oc #hotd x oc #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fandom #game of thrones #game of thrones x oc #got x oc #got #fire and blood #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #rhaenrya targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen

[bibleversegarden]

Perfecting a Glorious Church Without Spot, Wrinkle or Blemish

The Lord God, whose ways are perfect, is coming for a holy church without spot, wrinkle or blemish. Saved by and kept by His amazing grace, He continues to transform our lives, for His glory and praise! "He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ." (Philippians 1:6) "It is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure." (Philippians 2:13) The word which came to Jeremiah from the Lord, saying: "Arise and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause you to hear My words." Then I went down to the potter's house, and there he was, making something at the wheel. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter; so he made it again into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to make. Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter?" says the Lord. "Look, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel!" (Jeremiah 18:1-6) "The Lord will perfect that which concerns me; Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever; do not forsake the works of Your hands." (Psalm 138:8) "But He knows the way I take; when He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold." (Job 23:10) "But what things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ. Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith; that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me." (Philippians 3:7-12) "For in that He died, He died unto sin once: but in that He liveth, He liveth unto God. Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof. Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God. For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but under grace." (Romans 6:10-14) "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God." (Romans 12:1 and 2) "Coming to Him as to a living stone, rejected indeed by men, but chosen by God and precious, you also, as living stones, are being built up a spiritual house, a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."(1 Peter 2:4 and 5) "But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light; who once were not a people but are now the people of God, who had not obtained mercy but now have obtained mercy." (1 Peter 2:9 and 10) "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them." (Ephesians 2:8-10) "That He might present it to Himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish." (Ephesians 5:27)

- A Walk In The Garden Devotions

#gloriouschurch #perfectingthesaints #chosengeneration #royalpriesthood #holynation #spiritualhouse #potterandclay #churchofGod #grace #mercy #faith #livingsacrifice #holypeople #vesselofhonor #christianwalk

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Jesus Delivers Us From Slavery

Exodus 12:31 He called for Moshe and Aharon by night, and said, "Rise up, get out from among my people, both you and the children of Yisra'el; and go, serve the LORD, as you have said! 32 Take both your flocks and your herds, as you have said, and be gone; and bless me also!" 33 The Mitzrim were urgent with the people, to send them out of the land in haste, for they said, "We are all dead men." 34 The people took their dough before it was leavened, their kneading-troughs being bound up in their clothes on their shoulders. 35 The children of Yisra'el did according to the word of Moshe; and they asked of the Mitzrim jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and clothing. 36 The LORD gave the people favor in the sight of the Mitzrim, so that they let them have what they asked. They despoiled the Mitzrim. 37 The children of Yisra'el journeyed from Ra`meses to Sukkot, about six hundred thousand on foot who were men, besides children. 38 A mixed multitude went up also with them, with flocks, herds, and even very much cattle.

Romans 6:1 What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? 2 May it never be! We who died to sin, how could we live in it any longer? 3 Or don't you know that all we who were immersed into Messiah Yeshua were immersed into his death? 4 We were buried therefore with him through immersion to death, that just like Messiah was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life. 5 For if we have become united with him in the likeness of his death, we will also be part of his resurrection; 6 knowing this, that our old man was crucified with him, that the body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be in bondage to sin. 7 For he who has died has been freed from sin. 8 But if we died with Messiah, we believe that we will also live with him; 9 knowing that Messiah, being raised from the dead, dies no more. Death no more has dominion over him! 10 For the death that he died, he died to sin one time; but the life that he lives, he lives to God. 11 Thus also consider yourselves also to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Messiah Yeshua our Lord. 12 Therefore don't let sin reign in your mortal body, that you should obey it in its lusts. 13 Neither present your members to sin as instruments of unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God, as alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness to God. 14 For sin will not have dominion over you. For you are not under law, but under grace. — Exodus 12:31-38 and Romans 6:1-14 | Hebrew Names Version (HNV) The Hebrew Names Version Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Genesis 4:7; Genesis 15:14; Genesis 24:53; Genesis 39:21; Genesis 47:11; Exodus 3:20; Exodus 6:1; Exodus 10:9; Matthew 11:19; Matthew 13:33; Matthew 28:19; Luke 20:16; John 1:14; John 11:40; Acts 2:24; Romans 3:5; Romans 6:16; Romans 7:4; Romans 7:14; 2 Corinthians 4:10; 2 Corinthians 13:4

#Jesus #deliverance #slavery #sin #death #Exodus 12:31-38 #Book of Exodus #Old Testament #Romans 6:1-14 #The Epistle of Romans #New Testament #HNV #Hebrew Names Version Bible

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

28th November >> Mass Readings (USA)

Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time 

(Liturgical Colour: Green: A (1))

First Reading Daniel 2:31-45 The God of heaven will set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed and shall put an end to all these kingdoms.

Daniel said to Nebuchadnezzar: “In your vision, O king, you saw a statue, very large and exceedingly bright, terrifying in appearance as it stood before you. The head of the statue was pure gold, its chest and arms were silver, its belly and thighs bronze, the legs iron, its feet partly iron and partly tile. While you looked at the statue, a stone which was hewn from a mountain without a hand being put to it, struck its iron and tile feet, breaking them in pieces. The iron, tile, bronze, silver, and gold all crumbled at once, fine as the chaff on the threshing floor in summer, and the wind blew them away without leaving a trace. But the stone that struck the statue became a great mountain and filled the whole earth.

“This was the dream; the interpretation we shall also give in the king’s presence. You, O king, are the king of kings; to you the God of heaven has given dominion and strength, power and glory; men, wild beasts, and birds of the air, wherever they may dwell, he has handed over to you, making you ruler over them all; you are the head of gold. Another kingdom shall take your place, inferior to yours, then a third kingdom, of bronze, which shall rule over the whole earth. There shall be a fourth kingdom, strong as iron; it shall break in pieces and subdue all these others, just as iron breaks in pieces and crushes everything else. The feet and toes you saw, partly of potter’s tile and partly of iron, mean that it shall be a divided kingdom, but yet have some of the hardness of iron. As you saw the iron mixed with clay tile, and the toes partly iron and partly tile, the kingdom shall be partly strong and partly fragile. The iron mixed with clay tile means that they shall seal their alliances by intermarriage, but they shall not stay united, any more than iron mixes with clay. In the lifetime of those kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed or delivered up to another people; rather, it shall break in pieces all these kingdoms and put an end to them, and it shall stand forever. That is the meaning of the stone you saw hewn from the mountain without a hand being put to it, which broke in pieces the tile, iron, bronze, silver, and gold. The great God has revealed to the king what shall be in the future; this is exactly what you dreamed, and its meaning is sure.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Daniel 3:57, 58, 59, 60, 61

R/ Give glory and eternal praise to him.

“Bless the Lord, all you works of the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.”

R/ Give glory and eternal praise to him.

“Angels of the Lord, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.”

R/ Give glory and eternal praise to him.

“You heavens, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.”

R/ Give glory and eternal praise to him.

“All you waters above the heavens, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.”

R/ Give glory and eternal praise to him.

“All you hosts of the Lord, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.”

R/ Give glory and eternal praise to him.

Gospel Acclamation Revelation 2:10c

Alleluia, alleluia. Remain faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Luke 21:5-11 There will not be left a stone upon another stone.

While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, “All that you see here– the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”

Then they asked him, “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” He answered, “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[globofhoney]

I believe that each Dragonborn has their dress code to represent themselves, modded or not.

Mine is White 80% , silver 15%, Blue 5%

A snow elf mage who has a very VERY hard time accepting a single flaw about herself. Getting shit from the Dominion quite a lot since she is not an Altmer, both mentality and appearance.

The arrogant mage were made, not born into.

she left Summerset to find her own path.

With a facade of happy and articulated chatter, behind the mask is a cold and bitter person who is not afraid to lashes out at those she deemed nuisance.

Gifted and ambitious in the study of arcane, she mastered all school of magic and enchanting by the age of 85, and arrived in Skyrim by accident at the age of 91 years old.

And that is when she discovered that she is gifted for more than just magic. The Dragon god of time has chosen her of all people to be his champion.

All this time, the ambitious and domineering nature of hers has roots from a hidden draconic soul all along. Finally she finds a thing that she likes, a unique power...one that also requires cultivation and mastery over time. But there's no need to rush, patience and mindfulness is also hey key to success. It is alright, she can wait and learn along the way, after all, there is plenty of time as a long living race such as hers.

Many bandits cannot see beyond the veil of peaceful and noble looking of frail and weak woman, therefore, their punishment is justified trying to rob her.

Dragon aspect: White and shining in color.

Dialogue:

- Idle

"the lack of progression serves no purposes..."

- Get hit (90% - 60% HP)

"Well met"

"How rude!"

- Get hit (HP below 50%)

"My patience wears thin with you..."

"You got some nerve laying your hands on me..."

- When it's raining

"A perfect weather for good shock spells, shall we hunt for storm Atronach?"

- When it's snowing

"How lovely, these dancing little snowflakes..."

- When the weather is nice

"Hmm~ such a nice weather for reading"

//when someone offers her Lusty Argonian maid//

"I...have to refuse. I could use another book for entertainment, something more refined. But still, I thank you for your kind offer"

(Translate: "thank you for trying to help me find a book to read, but I don't need this shit" )

- When it is sunny

"It is almost time for an afternoon tea"

Color represents

White: In some people, white color may represent angles and goodness, but in this case, I chose the colour theme for my LDB as white because of her perfectionist concepts, clean, rigid, empty, and bland. Like an Order untainted by chaos.

But, the grand clarity and purity in the color of white represent her arcane aspects. Her mind is ready, and her heart is resolute and cleared, just like a diamond, brilliant and unyielding.

Elegant when unprovoked, but also barely approachable (don't mind the courier part, that guy approaches everyone) not many people have a heart to directly ask her for help, even though she would do it for free to kill her boredom.

Silver: The color of nobility, illumination and enlightenment. But also...insincerity, deceiving, immoral, and enigmatic nature.

Aside from glittering gold and jewels, the person who has deep insecurities about not being enough, and being a target for making a fool of. She prefers to let her brilliant light shine to hide the flawed inside.

Like a swan that tries to hide a black feather..or even pluck them all out without fearing pain or grave consequences it may bring to itself.

But what does the great father of dragons see of the Eminence, chased after by his champion?

Blue: while the color blue can represent tranquility, honesty, trustworthy, wisdom, and reliability. It can also represent yearning, sadness, passiveness, aloof, and predictable nature.

A simpleton, a No one who once never has a role in anything big, got what she wanted in the end and yet it never made her whole as much as she thinks it will be. Instead, it created a big gap between her and the people around which... didn't actually help much.

The question in her heart remains unanswered. What does she really want?

"A mighty Dov that has scales shine in all platinum lays atop its mountain of hoards and ponder, is it not enough? Or is this never the right answer to begin with"

So...what is the dress code and color theme of your LDB????

#dovahkiin oc #dovahkiin #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #the last dragonborn #snow elf dovahkiin #Skyrim

[bagheerita]

JRRT: And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?' said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.

'None, Lady,' answered Gimli. 'It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.'

'Hear all ye Elves!' she cried to those about her. 'Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.'

'There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,' said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. 'Nothing, unless it might be – unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.'

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. 'It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues,' she said; 'yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?'

'Treasure it, Lady,' he answered, 'in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'

Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. 'These words shall go with the gift,' she said. 'I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.'

Me: this fucking scene 😭❤

#lotr newsletter #my favorite of her gifts is sam's but i adore the interaction between her and gimli <3

[mmorpg-escapism]

FFXIVWrite 2023 - Day 1: "Envoy"

Ever the showoff, eh, Vauthry? G'raha thought to himself as the jongleurs escorted him into the throne room. The space was vibrantly purple and gold, and if not for the hood low over his face the glare may well have blinded him. And if the glare did not, the simmering hate from the sin eaters that were uncomfortably close to Vauthry would be the next thing to take him out.

"Lord Vauthry! How good it is to see you. How long has it been? Not since the inauguration? Too long, at any rate." He cast a quick glance over the mountain of a man in front of him as he continued. "May I say how humbled I am to be invited not only into your city, but into your home. You are as generous as ever."

"And you as disingenuous." Vauthry raised a dismissive hand, and the Exarch's escorts bowed and left the two alone in the empty hall. "Let us dispense with the pleasantries." G'raha's grip tightened imperceptibly on his staff as Vauthry continued. "This merry band of dissidents people are calling 'Warriors of Darkness'... They have slain sin eaters. By all accounts, the Crystarium is complicit in their villainy."

His eyes narrowed into a steely glare that made G'raha's hair stand on end. "And now I hear reports that your people are obstructing my soldiers! So what, I must ask, do you think you are DOING?"

So this is your game. G'raha kept his voice even, to disguise the anger and insult he felt. "I must ask you the same thing. It should be clear to even you that defeating the Lightwardens is this world's only hope of survival." The sin eaters surrounding Vauthry shifted at the phrase. G'raha fought the urge to teleport away, and carried on. "Even now, the people of Il Mheg and Lakeland rejoice in the return of night. For a hundred years, they yearned for a means to fight back against the sin eaters and at last they have found one. And yet you choose to sit idly by and do nothing. Why?"

"Why?" Vauthry's voice was incredulous "Because this hope you cling to is nothing more than a fever dream. An exercise in futility. Even should you slay them all, the world as we know it is beyond salvation." Vauthry reached a meaty hand up and ran it over the stone-like mane of the sin eater curled around him. "With the little that remains, the people would be free only to starve. Before long they would turn to violence, to war. And then usher themselves into oblivion."

"They require a firm hand to shepherd them from the edge. The hand of a king- Nay! A god! I will see their dreams fulfilled, their wishes granted! I will give them peace and they shall NEVER want for bliss!" Vauthry's every word stirred the eaters to movement, betraying them for what they were instead of the statues they resembled.

"The only sanctuary that shall exist will be the one that I provide for them. That is why the sin eaters exist! To unite the world under MY dominion!"

I have what I need. No more of this farce. G'raha interrupted whatever tirade was to come with a clank of his staff against the floor. "You have always held sway over those around you. Those who defy you must submit or die. What sits before me is the inevitable result of bloated privilege and unchecked power." Vauthry rolled forward at this, anger burning in his sunken eyes.

"But man is more resilient than you think. His achievements are not the product of violence, but of compassion and understanding. This calamity is but another crisis to overcome. And we will, by eliminating the sin eaters.

"You underestimate them, Vauthry. They see further than you think. I have seen it in the blood, sweat and tears of those who would sacrifice everything for a future they may never see. That their children may never know. I have beheld it in the dreams of those who came before, which in turn we give to those who come after, that they might in turn build upon the foundation provided by their forebears. These are the bonds which hold man together, and I will resist every effort to see him shackled."

"In summary, you will continue to aid the villains hunting MY sin eaters?"

G'raha put forward in his mind a spell to escape, because he knew his next words would likely land him in danger, and Besany would never let him hear the end of it if the monster in front of him was able to take him down. "With tremendous enthusiasm, for I have faith in the future they would build." "You predictable fool! Did you not think I would send my troops to their defense? Even now, they march to the sin eaters' defense! INSURRECTION WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!" Vauthry boomed.

A purple glow emanated from Vauthry's right hand. "The people of this world are MINE to command! And you..." The hand raised, and a single sausagelike finger pointed towards the Exarch. "ARE NO EXCEPTION!"

In the instant before it landed, G'raha unleashed his spell and swapped with a shadow he had left in the Tower. Through the mirror, he watched the bolt impact and dissipate it right before Vauthry's eyes. A quiet grin reached his lips at the confusion on the man's face, and then pity followed soon after at the tantrum it became.

"Dids't thou obtain what thou needed?" Urianger held a hand out to the crystal-infused man.

"I did. Now we rally to the defense of Lakeland, and quickly. Where is our Warrior of Darkness?"

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #shadowbringers spoilers

[bdwilliamshakes]

@kismctt

location: sexy late night library hang 

  When all was still in her majesty's dominion, when supper was over, and the noisy hours of recreation past;  when darkness had set in, and the quiet lamps of study were lit - when the clamorous bells of church were hushed, there William sat. Reading somewhat late, and feeling that the power to read was leaving him; for soliloquies from incessant minds were losing all sap and significance - gold was withering to leaves before his eyes. William was sorrowing over the loss of passion - til suddenly a quick tripping foot broke past the wooden door frame, and brought its owner, scuttling into the light. Kismet Dudley entreated him with her fairy-like symmetry; unlike the dark, acerbic and swarthy attributes of her brother Robert, her features were plump, sweet, and fair. She was a passionate thing; her face, ever the colour of a coquelicot. Last she had been but a child to William; Kismet had grown in harmony and consistency. In her timid yet earnest character, it could not be denied there was a most exquisite and alluring, fairy charm. 

Women and girls snug by fireplaces, so oft had their hearts and imaginations divorced from the comforts surrounding their person; forced to contend with the wildest storms, to dare stress of a younger maiden, to linger by lonely gates - waiting or listening to hear the son, the husband, the father coming to their side. Kismet seemed afflicted by no filial piety; she seated herself on a low couch, rested her cheek and her hand, and thought, and still was mute. She half turned when William's step was heard; their eyes met a moment, but with slight contact. Kismet remained in her place; William threw himself into a seat beside her. He found a great deal he wished to say to her; an inexhaustible fund of discourse, of sweetness - her tongue rested, her eyes reluctant to raise their lids so smooth, so full fringed. "Come, let us not be strangers; you once deigned it pleasurable to know me, sweet Hermia. Has her majesty's tutelage robbed you of any desire for company of the opposite?" Kismet was warm, albeit it a little proud; but to be naive and beautiful, is to warrant such attributes - he could fault her not. William half-feared, half-worshiped Elizabeth; he took refuge with Kismet, a nymph of easier moods. "All those highly recommended by the King have departed - we cast offs, remanning to populate the court. How shall we best occupy ourselves? A night swim, perhaps; fear not lately, for I am well equipped to gift your air with lungs from my lips, should you find yourself in danger." 

#kismet