#silver eyed maiden

[strqyr]

if summer, like the warrior, had her family / town murdered by other people and 'the judge, the jury, and the executioner' has anything to do with her character...

"but then why do you protect others?" / "because i can. because no one else will. and because some people are good, like you. and that gives me hope." <- it's about the benefit of the doubt; some people are good and those people deserve protection BUT

what if it's someone who has killed people? what then? if summer feels strongly about this because of her own personal experience and raven is someone who was taught to kill and did so to survive, would that be something they clashed over? would the circumstances of raven's childhood make a difference, or would the judgment be immediate à la rhodes?

because i can. because no one else will. and because some people are good, like you. vs. i beg your pardon sir, but we did not do these things for you because you were special. we do what we can for everyone, because we are able. <- silver eyed warrior vs the maidens.

something something if this is "let's not repeat the mistakes of the past" with summer & raven / ruby & cinder i will dig a hole for myself to scream in

#rwby #summer rose #raven branwen #ruby rose #cinder fall #SOME people are good so the silver eyed warrior protects others bc she's able #the maidens didn't help the wizard bc he was SPECIAL but bc they're able #the warrior picks a village (worthy?) of protecting #the maidens wander around remnant and help those they come across #wahoo?????

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Yeah, if that was true i wouldn't get to whine about how Cinder is a bad villain and should be killed off and that is unacceptable!

Yup. Honestly I think 90% of the Cinder hate is that she was introduced as Femme Fatale No.3 and people hated it when she got an actual character and depth rather than just being sexy.

Cinder isn't a Femme Fatale, she's a Feral Bastard Child with a fucked up view of maturity and femininity that led her to put on the mask of a Femme Fatale. Because evil isn't sexy or cool or freeing, it's painful and petty and scared. And the whole of Cinder's character hinges upon that lie, that truth, and whether she'll ever be strong enough to accept that.

#rwby analysis #cinder fall #in rwby power is often negatively proportional to agency #salem is the most powerful and the most trapped with oz not far behind #the maidens and the silver eyed warriors have power but also their duties and burdens overruling their own wants #the stronger cinder becomes the less autonomy she has and the grimm arm is just the pinnacle of that #and every step she takes towards power just puts more shackles on her

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Bound to Apologise

Summary: Aemond upsets his wife and forms a punishment fit for a Prince, feat. subby!Aemond | Word Count: 5.6k | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: subby!Aemond x wife!reader, p in v, oral (m receiving), use of a belt as bondage, orgasm denial, breeding kink I guess, Aemond blueballs Targaryen

When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

 Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion and when the opportunity should present itself, he has quite the silver tongue. He is a man who is sure of himself in identity, fiercely proud of his Targaryen ancestry, his skills with the sword and his deep and well-founded knowledge of history and philosophy, a fact he rivals smugly against his older brother at any occasion he is able.

 It is not as if Aegon cares much for rivalries of the mind. No, Aegon’s knowledge that is worthy of bragging in his mind is that of the flesh, and he makes sure to flaunt such knowledge in Aemond’s face at any chance.

 That is until Aemond took a wife.

 It had been almost half a year since Aemond was wed to his sweet wife in the Sept. An arranged affair, of course, and the two had scarcely seen one another beforehand, so even now he remembered the way he held his hands behind his back, wound tight with nerves, wondering what kind of person she was. It felt wrong to be tied so intimately and indefinitely to another person without really truly knowing them.

 She had smiled sweetly on that day, kissed him softly once their vows were exchanged, a faint blush at her cheeks while standing before her now husband. The wife of Aemond Targaryen. It felt so final, and she could not help the fluttering in her stomach.

 Aemond on the other hand had barely cracked a smile, simply kissed her, as he was duty-bound to do, and said his vows. She was pretty, yes. But he almost felt bad. What did this woman, illuminated so softly by the warm rays of light, have to gain by marriage to someone she surely found repulsive? Aemond hadn’t missed the various hushed conversations his mother had with Otto, the door cracked slightly ajar.

 He had a reputation amongst the ladies. Some desired him purely for his title and placing their family name on a high podium, their future children into the bargain. Some were repulsed by his fiery temper, those long, hard looks he gave everyone. And perhaps most notably, they were frightened of the One-Eyed Prince, on this moniker alone. ‘Aemond One-Eye would never find a wife’.

 Despite the incident being several years ago, it still raised its ugly head every now and then, in the form of self-consciousness, hushed female whispers and side-glances throughout the Keep. Most Lords and Ladies appreciated his skills from afar, never treading that delicate path in between that would bring them closer to him, which is precisely why it was difficult to even court a woman. Nevermind marriage.

 And yet, when his new wife had looked upon him at their wedding feast, she’d given him a sweet smile, looked deeply into his good eye and showed no signs of repulsion. It confused him for a moment. Was she making a mockery of him? By pretending not to be afraid or repelled by him on purpose? Hiding what she truly felt inside. Holding the bile in her throat at the thought of consummation? He blamed her flush on her face on the two cups of wine she had consumed.

 He was immensely relieved to have been proven wrong.

 Once the chamber doors were closed, she was clearly nervous, as any young maiden would be on her wedding night. With every aching second she removed the pins from her hair, Aemond stood before the fireplace, his heart hammering in his chest with nerves. He didn’t want to have to bare his soul to her. He didn’t know her. And the thought of forcing such a delicate little thing to gaze upon his affliction, watching her face contort into one of disgust, was eating away at his insides, his insecurities feeding on the buzz of the wine.

 She looked so pure and gentle in her off-white, thin chemise, leaving extremely little to the imagination. And with her hair down, waved from the braids, she looked positively mythical.

 Aemond swallowed and began to unclasp his doublet. She must have seen his true feelings beneath his poorly-hidden expression, because she’d stopped before him, a small hand laid delicately on his arm. A silent confirmation, that she was just as nervous as he was.

 “I do not wish to frighten you, my lady”

 Her heart could have broken, but instead it merely shuddered with his words.

 “Do you believe you frighten me?” she asked.

 Aemond’s silence had confirmed it.

 “You are my husband. And I, your wife. You may show me as much of yourself as you deem comfortable and I will not judge”

 Though brief, her comforting words gave him the confidence to consummate their marriage. At first it was clumsy, the way their lips had pressed against one another, and the clamouring at her body, laid entirely bare for him to feast upon. As with any wedding night, there was some discomfort, both for her and him, but for different reasons.

 But he was gentle, which surprised her and elated her in equal measure. And the sting of the loss of the maidenhead gave way to blooming pleasure, alongside something else. Perhaps a closeness that neither of them expected to have after just a few hours of knowing one another. But she hadn’t shied away from him, as he expected her to. On occasion during the act, she held his face so softly he trembled, struggling to fathom that this woman wanted him.

 They had left it only an hour before he was inside her again, where he now found sanctuary in her acceptance of him.

 In the moons that had passed since then, she had been his haven. His escape. She was so good to him, accepting of his desire to take his time in showing himself to her.

 Three moons after their wedding night, he finally pulls off his eyepatch, after a particularly long evening of lovemaking. She was laid next to him, the bed sheets tucked around her chest. Her lips parted when she saw what he’d been hiding underneath his eyepatch all this time, and she felt an undeniable closeness to him that was not there before.

 His scar felt raised beneath the gentleness of her fingers, but it was a look of sheer wonder, watching the way the sapphire that replaced his eye adopted the amber glow of the candles.

 Aemond felt his heart thunder and his cock get hard, when all she asked was for him to fuck her again.

 And he did with a new-found enthusiasm, a warm feeling blossomed in his chest, holding her form beneath him and fucking her relentlessly into the mattress, so hard that the bedframe struggled. He moaned loudly, giving her his seed and praying that it took, so that he could see his precious wife grow round with his child.

 It took him an entire moon to figure out that he not only respected her, but had come to love her.

 His wife, shy and timid perhaps at first, had become rather a force to be reckoned with. Their intimacy with one another had awakened something not only in her, but in him as well. At first, he delighted in having power and dominance over her, being quite a lot taller and broad, which he was wholly proud to have on display in the comfort of their chambers. He loved every little one of her whines and moans, drawing peak after devastating peak from her until she quivered in his touch.

 It had become a nightly routine. Sometimes several times in one night.

 Who would have thought that Aemond Targaryen, every now and then, enjoyed having such power taken away sometimes.

 It had started innocently enough. After so many moons being married and proving their love to one another every night, his sweet wife had sought for some variety and instead had clambered on top of him and sank on his cock, guiding the pace herself. Her hands steadied on his chest for leverage, her backside smacking against his thighs with every rough thrust of herself onto him.

 Alongside the dizzying feeling of watching his cock disappear into her cunt over and over, reaching new places in this new position, he found being held down exhilarating. Dare he say, even pleasurable. It made something wind tight as a bowstring in his gut.

 It seemed like she noticed this, as a lazy smirk graced her face.

 Ever since then they had experimented with that sensation. The feeling of one partner having full control, being held down, even tied sometimes. It was something reserved solely for them, behind their chamber doors. In the morning, when they break their fast with his family, he is once again the stone-faced, stoic Aemond Targaryen.

 Although it does not stop her from shooting knowing grins in his direction on the odd occasion, which makes his cheeks go a very fair pink, the tips of his ears burn and his breeches get inexplicably tighter.

 He enjoys this new side to his wife. It was buried deep, but now that he sees it, it never fails to surprise him.

 Which brings him to this moment. The moment when he knows he has said or done something to irk her.

 Her sister had arrived at the Red Keep alongside her father to visit her for a few days. Unlike his dear wife, her sister was still young and unmarried, and unbearably innocent. As soon as Aegon had laid his eyes on her little sister, his eyes gleamed with mischief, as if he’d seen a shiny new version of his favourite toy, but one that was actually available.

 He wasn’t even deterred by the firm look she’d given him.

 She and her sister walked arm in arm to the main hall, where they would dine all together that evening. Her sister spoke excitedly, happy to be brought to the Red Keep for the first time and to be reunited with her beloved eldest sibling.

 Aemond and Aegon were chatting idly at the table when they’d arrived, her sister went to one side of the table to be sat next to their father. The two brothers, who usually were not so well-acquainted and chatting in such a friendly manner, were so engrossed in their conversation and their cups, that they barely acknowledged her presence.

 All the better that Aemond’s back was to her as well.

 “She is a lovely looking girl, but it is a shame she is so terribly dim-witted” Aegon chuckled, “A family trait, I presume?”

 Aemond, dizzy from the effects of his wine, chuckled.

 “Perhaps”

 She’d bitten her cheek in frustration. Was he so deep in his cups that he actually found Aegon funny? Not only that, but had humoured him in insulting not only her sister’s intelligence, but his own wife’s as well.

 She pulled her chair out beside him loudly, and Aemond went red and jumped in surprise, dread prickled all over his skin. She gave him a mischievous, knowing smile as she sat, “Husband” is all she greeted him with.

 Aegon, who found the entire situation hilarious, had left him with that and as Aemond took his seat next to his wife, straight-backed and instantly sober, he bit his lips several times throughout the evening. She didn’t spare him a single word nor glance, unless he spoke to her directly, in which she forced a pleasant enough smile to her face and gave him one word answers. Playing the pliant little wife, while at the same time letting him know that he would not get off so easily.

 She thought, once, that she may have taken her retribution a bit too far. But it was fun if nothing else, to watch how frustrated Aemond got.

 She did not lay with him that night, nor the night after. Nor the night after that.

 When her sister and father departed King’s Landing, he thought this might be the reprieve. But he was wrong.

 It had been a full week since he had touched his wife intimately, not because he didn’t want to, he’d tried a fair few times. But every time, she had dismissed him with that playful smirk, the same one she had when she’d clambered atop his lap for the first time. And though her outfits and mannerisms remained the same as always, after being denied the pleasure of his flesh to hers for so long, every sway of her hips, every glint of her eyes and every movement of her hands had his breeches pathetically tight.

 She knew what she was doing as well, the little tease.

 He was aching. And it became too much. Not only did she deprive him of her sweet, tight cunny. She barely spoke to him. And the silence and barely-contained need to be inside her, was all too much to bear.

 She was in their chambers, sat before the fire, a large tome open in her lap and when she’d heard the chamber doors shut, her eyes had met that of an extremely pent up husband.

 But instead of greeting him, she bit back a smile and turned back to her book.

 That little-

 “Wife” he greeted through gritted teeth.

 “Husband”

 She didn’t fool him with the sweetness of her voice.

 “What are you doing?” he asked, half-desperate and half-irritated as he crossed the room to sit opposite her.

 “Reading, my love. So that I may grow to have acceptable intelligence”

 His nostrils flare in annoyance, and yet he can’t deny the way she acts has a profound effect on him, after a week of not being able to have her, he’s desperate for anything. Even just the brushing of her hand, he is convinced, would make him spill in his breeches.

 “You know as well as I that is not what I meant”

 She slowly closes the book, righting to stand in front of him, her eyes trickling over his form. She knows him well now. Knows how underneath this cold exterior he offers up to her, is a desperate man underneath, yearning for a taste of her affections. His body sparks up at her hungry eyes over him.

 “Then I do not know what you mean, husband” she replies, barely able to stop the spread of her smile, “You shall have to elaborate”

 His hands form tight fists. She’s right there, ripe for the taking, his sweet wife. How easy would it be to sling her over his shoulder and take her right there on the bed, still dressed in her finery, with her skirts rucked up over her hips.

 “I mean-” he starts, “-you and I have not laid together for the better part of a week”

 She cocks her head, “Oh? Is that so?” she answers sweetly, “Forgive me, I hadn’t noticed”

 He’s stunned into a sort of shocked silence, mouth slightly open, but without the headspace to form a reply. His wife pretended to busy herself with other things, placing the book back and dusting the covers, something she knew would get him riled up.

 “What is this game, wife”

 When she turns to him with that faux-innocence smile on her face, unable to hide how amused she is at how outwardly her husband is showing his frustration, Aemond can feel his limbs go numb.

 “I do not believe you are in any position to accuse me of anything, husband” she counters, crossing the room in deliberately small steps, “In fact, I do believe I am owed an apology of sorts”

 Her brow twitches slightly. She knows. She knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

 As much as he tries to ignore the way her attitude makes his breeches get tighter, all of his blood goes straight below his waistline.

 “But I can see, in your true Targaryen male nature, that you will not apologise…with words that is” she says, a wider smile gracing her face. An almost mischievous one.

 Aemond swallows thickly.

 He clears his throat, blinking a few times at what she just said, “Perhaps…you might enlighten me on how I can make amends”

 Got you.

 “Give me your belt” she instructs.

 It’s borderline pathetic, the speed in which he tries to unbuckle it from his doublet and his fingers fumble with the silver, the embarrassment evident in the way it clinks clumsily. He pulls it through the loops and extends the leather towards his wife. She lets his hand hang there for a moment, as if to extend his internal torment, before she takes it, her fingers slipping over the roughened edges.

 “Take off your clothes, leave your breeches on” her voice is clipped and deadly serious, “then get on the bed”

 She watched from the foot of the bed as he did, twisting the belt in her hands as she regarded him. Saw the way his breath had hitched as she instructed him to do something and the way his pupils swallowed the violet of his eye. He was desperate. And the longer she went without saying or doing anything, the more the excitement and anticipation was starting to build in his core.

 “My dear husband” she says, still fully clothed but clambering onto the bed beside him, “You have wronged me in a manner most unbefitting”

 Her voice was low, the same way it would be when they were alone together, coupling.

 Gently she pulls both his wrists together, tying them first before raising them to the bed frame, sliding the leather through the buckle and pulling his skin flush to it. She pulls on it a few times, to make sure it is secure. Smiling down at him when she confirms he is not able to move.

 His chest moves hurriedly, a warm, fluttering expectancy erupts in his gut.

 “And all you have been able to think about is our coupling, or rather lack of” she smirks, pulling a large pin from her hair so it falls around her shoulders. Looking up at his dear wife from this angle, in this position, will never cease to be thrilling.

 Her small fingers slide under his eyepatch, depositing it on the bedside, so that she may see all of him.

 He would never ever reveal beyond their chambers how he enjoys to see her, eyes half-shut looking down at him, exerting her own version of dominance over him. And he was eternally grateful that she never told a soul either. It would embarrass him beyond measure. He could only stand to be embarrassed in front of her.

 Even though she was very much in charge, she did so in her own feminine way. Used her body differently, her words even.

 He doesn’t think he will ever tire of it.

 “Would you like to fuck me, husband” she asks low, nudging his knees apart so that she can kneel between them. It doesn’t fail to set his blood alight, the way she says such vulgar things…and make it sound so right.

 As her fingers begin to undo his breeches, his hips move and so do his hands against the bed frame. It sets that grin on her face again.

 “Yes, I do…I have missed you”

 Her fingers start to peel his breeches from his hips, exposing the pale skin underneath, and he almost sighs in relief to feel her soft hands on his bare skin.

 She cocks her head, looking at him, “What makes you think I will let you fuck me?”

 A sort of dread…disappointment  pools in his stomach, but alongside that, arousal. He cannot tell if she is serious or merely teasing him, and it is the in-between of not knowing that makes his head feel as if there is cotton stuffed into it instead of thoughts.

 “Fucking is a reward” she starts, “and you have not been good”

 Once his breeches are off, or at least down to his toned thighs, enough where she can see his manhood, aching and swollen against his taut abdomen, hardened from his years of training with the sword. The tip is flushed, the same colour as his lips, with a milky arousal leaking from it. She is sure that with one touch, he could simply come undone, and it makes her smirk wickedly.

 “I will forgive you…on one condition”

 Gods, how badly he wants her to just touch him already. With his cock now exposed to them both, her hands so close, it’s borderline unbearable to be teased like this.

 “Anything, please…”

 A flush blossoms on her cheeks. She always did like it when he begged.

 “You must not peak, until I say”

 Aemond almost goes bright red. This is territory that has not been tread before. And yet, he can’t deny the excitement it sends through him, the way the air is instantly knocked out of his lungs, and how his hands tug slightly against the belt.

 He outright moans as her small hand encircles his cock, giving a few languid pumps, squeezing when she gets to the tip, brushing her thumb over the sensitive slit. Now that she has given her order, her demand, all he can seem to think about is his peak, and how hard he is concentrating to not do it too soon.

 “You seem more sensitive than usual, husband” she coos, her other hand placed on his thigh, only barely squeezing, “have you missed me that much?”

 “Yes…” he responds through slightly gritted teeth, unable to take the breathiness out of his tone.

 “Hm” she hums, dipping her head to his waistline, making him suck in a quiet breath, “Let us see if you can be good then”

 She flatters her tongue against the underside of his length, dragging up achingly slow to the slit, her hand still applying pressure as she makes her way up. When she gets to the slit, her eyes meet her husband's.

 There's that damn smile again.

 Aemond shudders a breath, looking into her eyes while she has his cock on her tongue is only spurring him on, so he shuts his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillows. His hands tug at the belt. Wanting morning more than to just run his fingers through her hair.

 "Look at me" she orders.

 When he does, his jaw slackens, cheeks warm as her hot mouth envelops him entirely. Pushing down to take more of him, her hand strokes whatever else she cannot fit. Aemond watches her take him with every slow bob of her head, pushing his cock against her hot throat, warm, wet and inviting.

 If he is good, he may get something else.

 From this angle, her breasts are dangerously close to spilling from her dress, and he watches them move as she continues to suck him, her tongue curled up to press against the prominent vein on the underside. After a week of not having him, she relishes the taste of him. How he smells faintly of sweat and leather, and how badly she wants more of it.

 She plunges her mouth down further, til her lips are against the base and Aemond moans out loudly. His tip lodges the back of her throat, and while well endowed, she has learned to take him as deep as she can, until she softly gags, tightening her throat around him.

 She is testing him. Seeing how far she can push him as she pleasures him with a renewed vigour, humming around him, sending little jolts of pleasure up his spine.

 It was his biggest weakness, taking him into her mouth. And to be so clearly pleased to do it as well. Merely watching the way his length disappears between her plush lips is nothing short of heavenly.

 He bets her cunny is wet from this alone.

 It very nearly makes him peak, those sparks are there most certainly. Especially the way her throat contracts around him.

 But he holds back the reins. For now.

 She pulls off him with a soft, wet pop, making a show of licking her lips to taste his precum.

 "You are blushing, my love" she says, and he knows even without looking she is smirking again.

 "Please…" he murmurs, "...do not tease me any longer"

 She cocks her head again, pretending to not know what he means.

 "Is my mouth inadequate?"

 He shakes his head quickly, feeling his hair begin to stick to his nape with the effort of holding back his peak.

 "No-no…I just need you"

 "Need what" she grins, moving to straddle him.

 Aemond's eye widens here. Her dress is fanned out, and underneath he feels her bare form pressed against his aching cock.

 The vixen had not had small clothes on this entire time.

 And after using her mouth to pleasure him, she was soaked.

 It was most like her. She always did everything with purpose. Always one step ahead.

 She smiles when she sees it click in his mind and she moves her hips, dragging her slick over his length, making his eye flutter.

 "Say it"

 He swallows, tugging against the belt. He half thinks of requesting to touch her. But he knows she would not allow it.

 "I need to be inside you"

 She raises her eyebrows.

 "Please" he finishes.

 She pulls the front of her dress up, to give him a good view of her wet cunny, spreading her slick over him and he almost moans at just that. It's a sight to behold. The feeling…even more indescribable.

 "My poor, silly husband" she coos, taking his length in her hand, using her palm to coat the entirety with her arousal, "...you came here to say something. Now is the time"

 She raises her hips, his tip not even touching her, but the anticipation of it is too much. Aemond, almost subconsciously, bucks his hips up. Only to be met with her pushing him back down.

 "Stay still" she says firmly, "or you will not fuck me at all"

 His chest moves quickly, clenching his fists, his whole body feeling unbearably hot.

 She waits, with that glint in her eye. She really would do it. She would clamber off him and not fuck him, just for the satisfaction that she knew he wanted her, and that it had been denied.

 "I…apologise…" he mutters quietly.

 She doesn't move.

 "For?"

 He grunts, frustrated. Too busy thinking of him sliding through her folds, nestled in her cunny.

 "For saying such things about you…"

 She tuts, with an amused grin, "We shall test your loyalty, husband. Remember…you need my permission"

 Whatever Aemond was going to say is stuck in his throat as she sinks on him, enveloping him entirely in her slick heat. She does it slowly, so that he might feel every inch of her, every ridge inside. And when her backside sits on his thighs, moving her hips side to side, his tip nudges her sweet spot, the curve of his long, delicious length finding it effortlessly.

 He has to briefly close his eye, not look at her, so that he doesn't get too overwhelmed. After a week of not having her, she feels so perfectly tight, so much so it feels as if her cunt is milking him already. He cannot get too tied up in the feeling, lest he lose her forgiveness.

 The sound he lets out when she begins to move is almost pained, one that feels like it takes all his strength from his muscles.

 He looks up at her, her hair cascading over her shoulders with every shallow thrust inside, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks from the effort of it. He can feel her arousal weeping out of her, coating his length and smacking against the base, that alongside his barely-contained moans.

 Her hands trail up his bare torso and he can feel gooseflesh erupt in the path she leaves. Her soft palms trace the expanse of his chest, and she doesn’t miss the way his stomach muscles tense up as she hastens her pace while she touches him. It’s only when her fingers apply a feather-like touch against his nipples that she finally gets a breathy moan from him.

 It only adds more fuel to her fire.

 Every touch, as small as they are, with how pent up Aemond had been, is hurtling him towards that edge. He can feel every inch of her perfect insides, squeezing him as she nears even herself. His stomach does flips, a familiar flutter getting stronger inside.

 “Please…wife…” she barely manages to say.

 She smiles, her chest moving quickly with the effort of their lovemaking. Her thighs ache in the most wonderful way, her cunt stretching around his girth, the tip kissing her end, filling her so deliciously.

 “Please what”

 “I want to touch you…please” he begs, his fists still tight and pressed against the bed frame.

 He takes a much needed breath when she slows down, merely circling her hips against his pelvis instead.

 “Are you close, my love?” she asks sweetly, leaning up to grasp the belt in one hand.

 Aemond nods, not trusting his own voice, lest it betray the inner turmoil inside. But she sees it. She doesn’t miss a thing.

 She cocks her head, half of her wants to reprimand him for not using his words to reply to her. But the other half feels how his cock throbs inside her, aching for completion, to paint her walls with his spend.

 “Very well” she smirks, undoing his bondage, “but you may only touch me here”

 She guides his now free hands to her clothed hips, keeping hers on top to make it clear how serious she is. Even now, merely touching her, through clothes it doesn't matter, it’s like some kind of torture.

 He grabs her hips tightly and backs himself up against the pillow in a half-sitting position, causing his length to press up inside her, he doesn’t miss the small gasp she emits. She’s close as well, he can tell.

 He fucks up into her with renewed passion, and her head tilts back, her lips parted only slightly to allow her quiet but wanton moans to slip out. Her sounds are like a reward. But he knows he is still denied the greatest one of all. One that seems more and more difficult to hold back the tighter she clenches around him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his wrists. There was something exciting about her being fully clothes while he fucked her. It almost felt forbidden. But exciting all the same.

 He can feel her slowly losing her resolve as he pounds harshly into her, as if he is letting out all his frustrations.

 “-Fuck…Aemond…” she breathes, “-Don’t stop-”

 His breath comes in hurried pants, wanting her to feel good but at the same time holding himself back. He can feel the pressure inside, fit to burst at any moment.

 “My perfect wife…”

 “-Aemond, I’m close-”

 She pulls up the front of her dress, her small slender fingers diving between her legs to apply pressure to her pearl, and she inadvertently tightens around him at the combined pleasure.

 He is not sure if he can last much longer. Forgiveness be damned, he wants to see his spend leak from her.

 “My love, I-”

 She looks down at him, a lazy, fucked-out smile on her face, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead.

 “-Yes, husband…fuck your heir into me…”

 His eye widens at the vulgarity, but his throat tightens at the challenge and he slams so deep inside her with a shocking collection of desperate thrusts. She continues to circle her slick over her bud until the buzz floods into her limbs with a choked cry, her body trembling in the bruising hold he has of her hips.

 He fucks her all the way through it, now that he has been given the permission he so desired, he craves it like hunger. It feels like it takes everything out of him, the wind surely knocked from his lungs, as he finally stills inside her, feeling the warm, familiar flood of his spend deep against her womb, completely emptying himself until he aches.

 Aemond never lets up on his grip, holding her tightly to ensure she has all of it, and he gives a few additional shallow thrusts that make her cry out, hoping his seed will take and she will grow round with child for him. The thought alone makes him want to keep her in their chambers all day if he has to.

 Their eyes meet, the only sound is both of their breathing. Her own eyes flicker from his seeing one, to the sapphire, and a soft, contented smile, not the same mischievous one as earlier, makes its way to her face. It encourages him to do the same.

 “I could stay in your perfect cunt forever…” he breathes, his chest moving steadily.

 She hums a laugh. It is certainly something he would say.

 “Am I forgiven?” he asks, eyebrows moved only slightly, like he is expecting a witty response.

 His wife pretends to think, her fingers touched to her lips. And with his softening cock still nestled inside her, she leans forward to lay a tender kiss on her husband, her delicate, soft lips pressed so gently to his, in a manner that contradicts the sensuality of what they had just done.

 When she breaks, her forehead pressed against his and her hand cupping his face, she wrinkles her nose playfully.

 “I shall think about it”

 When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

 Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion. With not a soft bone in his body.

 Who would have thought, that sometimes, he enjoyed letting that persona slip, just for a moment.

 But only ever with her.

dividers by @firefly-graphics​

General Taglist:  @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Aemond Taglist:  @m00n5t0n3 @boofy1998 @merakiaes​ @hanihoney88 @let-love-bleeds-red​ @bellaisasleep​ @watercolorskyy @heavenley1927 @ryswritingrecord @partypoison00 @gaeela-6 @saeselkie @padfooteyes @introverbatim @queenofshinigamis @thatkingofgirl @ryswritingrecord @dahlias-and-marigolds @triscy

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #sub!aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond stannies #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond fluff #hotd aemond #aemond x wife reader #aemond x oc #prince aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #aemomd targaryen smut #prince aemond fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fandom

[comfortless]

hello beloved 🥰 🫶 every time you mention ‘The Dungeon’ whatever da hell that is my brain just goes dungeon crawler! könig! dungeon crawler! könig! so might i request a dungeon crawling könig?

what the hell. do not send König down here… get him away from me…. *immediately forgets everything else i was doing to begrudgingly write this*

sigh… dungeoneer! König x fem! reader

content / warnings: violence, sexism, suggestive.

Retrieving the golden eye of a wyrm to be made into a lovely pendant for the Queen would pay well, keep him afloat and drifting from land to land for long enough to decide upon where to settle. The posting tacked to the wall of the inn, detailing a handsome reward, was surely the sign from a benevolent god that a glorious fate had been handed to him on a silver platter. He stuffs the parchment into the pocket of his trousers as he downs the last of his ale, tosses his coins to the barmaid on his way toward the door and sets off for the deepest dungeon in the kingdom.

There are no bright-eyed knights lobbying around the entrance, a good sign that the wyrm’s bounty was all his to claim. It makes him elated, really, and the idea of finally having his own place, bedding down with a pretty maiden each night is even more of an adrenaline rush than the actual fighting that comes the moment he steps foot into the darkened underworld. The dungeon is filled with the reanimated skeletons he’s grown so accustomed to— a quick jab with his claymore to the center of the spine leaves them a crumpled heap of bone and dust. They’ll rise again when the moon hangs lofty in the sky, but he’s done this enough times to know the best way of navigating such a place. The other beasts haunting the cavernous ruins are a bit trickier to deal with, and he’s fortunate that most shy away from the light of his torch.

Only, she does not.

The woman standing before him in full plate armor is poised for battle, blade making a steady ascent above her head in preparation to strike as her lantern is cast aside. She charges at him before he can even breathe out a word of protest, swinging the heavy sword at him so quickly that at most, he can only thrust his torch before him to prevent her plunging the tip between his ribs. She’s quick to draw back when the wood splinters and the fire sparks up on dry bone and the tattered remains of clothing from all that came before layered upon the dirt and grime coated floor. The blaze of the fire seems pale in comparison to the flames in her eyes as she pivots towards him again, and once more— he merely blocks.

“A maiden shouldn’t be here,” he says through gritted teeth as he easily pushes her back against the wall, caging her between the flat of his blade and the bulk of his body.

He hadn’t realized the ache in his groin until the woman tilts her head up to spit in his face. König doesn’t bother to wipe it away, to even pretend to be disgusted by her actions. From this small breadth between them all he sees is divine beauty— even as her eyes narrow like that of a viper preparing to strike.

“A knight to be,” she corrects him as he gives her blade a shove, the sounds of steel hissing against steel and crackling fire echoing throughout the cavern.

“Not likely.”

Their fight drags on for what feels like hours before his flask his split at his hip and she finally does back down. Even this lady knows well enough that being lost in a dark dungeon with no source of light and no water is a death sentence, and she finds him both incredibly frustrating and fun enough to keep him a live just a little longer. He’s adept enough to block even her quickest strikes, parry her with a gentle jab to her side with his index rather than his blade. He’s shown her her own weak points during their little battle, and she’s garnered a bit of respect for him for that.

As she sheaths her blade and locks eyes with him, his erection is practically trying to tear through the seams of his pants. She’s so pretty, so strong, so unlike the barmaids and damsels in distress he’s come across so often and it’s all gnawing at the recesses of his mind. The bounty almost entirely forgotten, he wants not to penetrate the wyrm with his blade but rather spear her with his cock.

He reaches for her, almost tentatively hoping to somehow melt through her armor and feel the warmth of her flesh. She’s doesn’t pull away when his hands rest against her waist, just gives him a little flutter of her eyelashes before rearing a hand back to almost playfully strike his face just before she turns on the heel of her boot and gathers her lantern.

König follows along behind her, not just out of necessity, but because she asks him to. Beckons him along with the curl of her gloved finger, coos at him when he falls behind trying to picture her body beneath the layers of chainmail and fitted steel.

“I’m taking the bounty,” she tells him when they stop to take a sip from her flask, feast on the preserved fruit and dried meat from his own satchel.

It reminds him of why he’s come all this way, what he’s supposed to be doing here. He’s a little tense— on one hand he wants to give this lady the entire kingdom, make her his wife and rid away those silly thoughts about becoming a knight, but she’s so determined!! He’s at a loss on how to tell her that there are no women knights in the land, that no matter what she brings back for the King she’ll probably only be mocked and sent on her way.

“Let me help you,” he says instead.

“You would lend me your blade?”

He just blinks at her… this silly woman has spent far too long dreaming and watching the knights in the castle yard, he just knows it. Down to the way she speaks! She’s incredible and infuriating, just as he is to her. It makes him want to push her just a bit, see what she’s capable of entirely before they part ways (she is never getting rid of him).

“What do I get in turn?”

The little knight mulls that over for a moment, as she leads him down a long corridor; everything all gilded and decorated, lit aglow by the dim orange of lantern light. The golden coins, rolls of fine silk now muddied and trampled littering the floor are enough of a sign to show they’ve nearly made their way to the heart. The wyrm would no doubt be lying in wait at the end, resting protectively over its hoard of cattle bones and shiny objects, golden eyes piercing through the darkness as it prepares for the fight to come.

It’s when the wyrm’s first hissing growl rings out through the darkness that she does turn back to face him, a mischievous little grin tugging at her lips.

“Only to live another day.”

“Nein… something else.”

He can’t stop himself from pawing at her again, curling a hand around her neck to tilt her chin up to face him. Her breath fanning over his face, her scent like peony and lantern oil make him feel drunk enough. The hand that slides between his legs to grasp at his cock is far from anything he ever anticipated from her. She was bold, too bold and too pretty for her own good.

Fate had blessed him more than he could even begin to fathom, after all.

#könig x you #könig x reader #konig #könig #dungeoneer!könig #this is so silly they should get married give her one hour with König and one of them is walking out pregnant (but it’s not her)

[artistsfuneral]

@starlghtstarbrite

Pokey

Geralt should have known better.

The feeling of suspicion, a peculiar itch in the back of his mind that was only ever caused by the kind of trouble Jaskier created, had been bothering him for hours. If not that, he should have paid attention to the lingering smell in the air, the way a weak wave of Chaos tickled his senses every now and then, or how the bard suddenly seemed to struggle with the weight of his pack. It was almost frightening, how used he had to have gotten to Jaskier's antics to not notice the enormous dark omen following their every step. Either that, or Jaskier got better at hiding things from him. Geralt didn't know which was worse.

When he finally did realize that Jaskier was carrying something with him he definitely wasn't supposed to be carrying, it was due to the muffled sound of a thick eggshell cracking and a rush of dopamine in the air around his bard. Geralt, always two steps ahead of Jaskier, turned around sharply and growled at the man. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing!" Jaskier squeaked aloud, which might as well have been the boldest lie he ever told, as it was accompanied by yet another crack. "I mean- I didn't- Not- It just sat there Geralt! Alone! Orphaned! It's Mama dead because of those horrible creatures you fought. How couldn't I have?"

Realization dawned on Geralt's face, followed by a look of horror. "You didn't. Jaskier- Tell me you didn't." He knew exactly what creature Jaskier was talking about.

"It's a baby, Geralt! A helpless little creature that needs our protection. Who knows if it even would have hatched if I hadn't taken it with us."

"For fuck's sake Jaskier! Get that thing out of your bag right now. They're perfectly able to fight and kill the moment they've hatched and last time I checked you weren't a maiden pure of heart so it will attack you the moment it's head is out!" Already one hand on his silver sword, Geralt stepped towards his bard and the still hidden hatchling. Thankfully Jaskier seemed to take the witcher's orders seriously as he slowly lowered his bag on the ground, just to quickly flip it open and jump a step back.

The egg inside was bigger than a human head, off-white in color with irregular pale pink spots. Chaos radiates off of it in waves that grew stronger each time the creature inside knocked against the cracks in the shell. It did so once, twice, three times in total until the shell of the egg finally gave away and horn first, a small foal-like head peaked out. Immediately after seeing the little creature, Jaskier threw all caution to the wind and knelt down in front of his pack, cooing at the hatchling with big eyes. Ignoring Geralt's hissed out warnings to back away from the creature, Jaskier reached out to help it get rid of a piece of gooey eggshell and softly stroked a thinger over its velvet head. "Geralt," he whispered, voice full of awe, "it's so tiny."

"Jaskier, get back. It will bite your fingers off," the witcher growled, sword drawn and steady as he inched closer towards the hatchling. The creature watched Jaskier wide-eyed and with open interest, copying his cooing noises between quiet huffs and puffs. "Oh, come on, Geralt," the bard said in a hushed voice, "It's just a teeny-tiny unicorn. A little baby. Look, it's so cute, it wouldn't hurt a fly."

The witcher, who was very well aware that a freshly hatched unicorn possessed the powers and capabilities to kill up to three drowners on first sight, was about to grab Jaskier by the collar and yank him back, when the foal fully stepped out of its egg, shook itself and then proceeded to to invade Jaskier's space by gently bumping into him. That... Was not what the witcher had expected. The unicorn liked Jaskier. It was, in fact, bonding with him. Jaskier, who was still cooing over it like it was some defenseless wet kitten. "Oh, look at you. You are so beautiful with your tiny mane and your adorable little horn. And Geralt thinks you're scary. Who's a little pokey unicorn? Who's my little Pokey?"

Oh gods, Jaskier was bonding with it too. "My sweet Pokey, yes you are. Such a sweet unicorn. You will come with us, won't you? We'll introduce you to Roachie and Pegasus and you can learn all the horsie things you need to know and then you will be the bravest, strongest, prettiest, bestestest unicorn ever. Won't you, Pokey?" The unicorn neighed in response and Geralt knew he was fucked.

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #witcher #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #geralt of rivia

[zae5]

The eye of awe

Aemond x maid reader

Summary: A maid at the Keep relishes in the sweetness of gratitude.

Word count: 1.2k

Dividers by @saradika

Next>

She hears the familiar clang of steel as she passes through the courtyard, wicker basket in hand daring to glance at the flash of silver dancing in the sun. He moves with the fluidity of men from myth, of childhood tales told by mothers of the Realm willing their meddlesome children to bed. Stories of agile and fearsome warriors fighting to save kingdoms of might and maidens of beauty, slender and graceful with their arms and legs, dancing to tunes of mystery. She finds him to have both, equal parts grace and ferocity as he dodges another blow before his blade lands against his opponent's throat. As the crowd erupts in applause she ducks under the archway leading indoors. Just like her childhood, her escape for the day is at its end and her eyes wide open to the life ahead.

Work at the Red Keep is equal parts arduous as it is rewarding. Despite her young age, she's been promoted from a scullery maid to working in service to the one eyed prince himself. She assists him daily, organizing his clothes, tidying his chambers, ordering his baths, serving his meals and above all making sure the order he has in place is never disrupted.

“Chaos is only tackled well on the battlefield” he'd said to her when she was brought to him “I do not expect an ounce near me. Should I find you lacking, you'll be sent away before you can make your apologies.”

His return to his chambers is angrier than usual. His bath lies ready at his disposal, his clothes laid out meticulously on the bed. A linen tunic, leather surcoat and coat, linen breeches, trousers of wool and two leather belts lined with gold are arranged in that order, all in shades of ivory, black and brown, adorned with the familiar three headed dragon glinting in gold ready to greet him once he finishes. The only piece of cloth that remains askew is his eyepatch discarded on the dresser in haste, as she stands waiting outside, unwilling to initiate change.

It is the only one he wears rather religiously despite its condition. It is whispered by the maids in passing, that it was Princess Helaena who made it for him, ever since he lost his eye at ten, the dreaded incident never spoken of lest one incur his wrath. It is said that the wound itself was inflicted by a lad of eight, his own nephew, for a purpose widely disputed by all she's heard from. She finds the whole thing rather nasty, a cruel punishment or perhaps an unfair trial from the Gods. The others think it rather fitting for a man so cruel to be felled in such a way, yet she finds it akin to being cursed, for him to be so beautiful yet troubled. Despite his harshness and cold gaze, he's been nothing but courteous to her which is the most she can expect from any master she serves and is far better than one with grabby hands and wayward eyes. He's expectant and demanding, yet acknowledges a task well done. Perhaps it is his look of quiet praise on a hard day that carries her to the markets at noon, skipping her meal with ease. The leather she requires has been borrowed from scraps cleaned at the dressmaker’s, earning her a bewildered gaze and an equally prompt dismissal. The clasp she looks for however, costs a silver dragon. It is a lot, nearly half of her earnings yet she parts with them willingly. The gold ornament burns her palms as she heads back in time to resume her duties, a thrilled smile on her face.

She's been taught how to sew since she was a child, enough to be able to fix a hole, a gape or tear in both tunic and chemise alike.

She has fixed her father's breeches after a hard day's work and her brothers’ after they'd torn theirs running through the crowded streets of King's landing. Even stitching a wound comes easy to her now, having learned how to do so, after a shoddy job a few moons back, when coin had run dry to turn to the local healer. She smiles to herself as she pulls the threads through the leather at hand. It is brown enough to hide the gaps in her work and though it isn't as fine as the embroidery of a lady she's satisfied with it nonetheless. She stares at her little contraption in awe as she finishes in time. It has a single strap running across its breath held together by a gold button she'd found lying on the floor. On its side she's opted for a sturdier one with the golden clasp holding it all together behind, a single flame for the prince she serves, the closest she'll ever come to the might of the dragon.

There's a feast to be held tonight, in honor of his nameday. Guests from all over the Realm have arrived and as the Keep buzzes with excitement of the festivities at dusk and she finds it hard to contain her own delight. There is much work to be done before she can part with her surprise. She tends to him soon, dressing him for dinner in leathers of green and black, clasping the familiar worn out strap as he leaves grumbling. It is hours later when she sees him again as she's summoned by the familiar ring of the bell in her quarters. She creeps to his room in trepidation, hands clasped behind her back as she greets and readies him for bed, her gift heavy in her pocket. As he turns to dismiss her she looks at him shyly

“If you don't mind me saying, I'd like to wish you a happy nameday my prince”

He nods in response, humming as he makes his way to the fireplace, seating himself as he stares ahead.

“I have something for you” she continues moving towards him as he looks up “It isn't much but a mere token of my gratitude” she says extending her hand. “Thank you, for everything” she continues, stopping as she looks at him. He takes the leather in his hand, turning it over in silence.

When she was a child her mother had taken her to see her aunt. It was the first trip she'd taken outside the capital to visit a dying woman and provide her comfort. As they'd returned she'd shown her the sky, full of stars at night, bright and beautiful away from the haze of the city.

“Your aunt's up there now girl, watching over you just as I'll be someday” she'd said pointing to the drops of light adorning the skies.

His eye runs over the gold in hand, flame fitting into his palm like it belongs, shining like the stars of a forgotten past.

“Come, help me wear it” he remarks as he leans back.

As she clasps it in place and curtsies, she’s lost to dreams of silver chased with a flame of gold.

Clashes of steel greet her the next morn, a flame of gold glinting in the sun. Her dreams don't end with the battle at hand anymore, for the mighty warrior now carries a part of the maiden with him and she's content to hold his gaze just a little longer.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond @watercolorskyy

#house of the dragon #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x maid reader #aemond fics #aemond imagine #zae's fics #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader

[mybeautifuldelirium]

Hi there ♥️ could U do a aemond x dothraki slave fanfic in where she works as a Maiden and aemond Takes and Interest in her because He has never Seen a dothraki before💕 thankyou love

The Wildflower From The East || Aemond Targaryen x Dothraki!reader part 1

A/N this is my first Aemond fanfic so please go easy on me lol

but I hope you like it. It turned out longer than I had expected, but I really wanted to include some backstory and character build up, so lmk if you’d like a Part 2 xx

Summary: Aemond is so captivated by his sister’s new maid that he makes her help him bathe, just so he can hear the fascinating tales from her foreign lands, will he be able to take her out of his mind?

Part 1/?

Warnings: none

Y/N couldn’t remember how long it had been since she last saw her homelands of the Dothraki sea, oh how she missed riding through the mazes of tall thick grass while having the burning Essosi sun gently glaze her skin, she even missed all those ruthless conditions that no lady from the west would ever imagine surviving.

Alas here she was, miles away across the narrow sea in a foreign land. What a cruel fate she had, being sold by her own kin to the slavers of Yunkai only to be brought to King’s Landing as an exotic gift for the Targaryen princess Helaena.

Queen Alicent wasn’t keen on the newly arrived maiden, a filthy savage, she thought of her, unfit to serve her royal daughter. However much to her disapproval, the princess quickly grew close to her new companion indulging in her stories from the foreign lands.

The sun had just risen moments ago and the refreshing scent of the morning dew still lingering in the air. It was hauntingly quiet during this time of day, the only noticeable sound coming from the clashing swords in the courtyard, per usual the Targaryen princes were training with ser Criston. That was when Aemond first saw the foreign maiden.

Y/N was following closely behind his dear sister, who perhaps was once again looking for one of her dreadful creatures in the courtyard. Unlike his brother, the one eyed prince, never paid attention to the maids, however he couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N, she looked nothing like any Westerosi maiden he had seen, there was something striking about her, something so intriguing.

“Ahh the savage girl, a pretty thing she is” smirked Aegon making him turn with a puzzled look.

“Haven’t you heard? They say she’s a Dothraki, sold as a slave at that. Can’t imagine how mother allowed her to serve our beloved sister” he laughed.

‘A Dothraki?’ Aemond thought to himself, he had only heard vague stories about them, from the old septas, but she looked nothing like the images of the ruthless barbarians that these stories had portrayed.

Over the following days the younger prince would secretly throw glances at her every chance he got and although he wouldn’t admit it to himself he just couldn’t take her out of his mind.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with bright colors. Y/N was wandering through the long corridors as princess Helaena had granted her the permission to go bathe herself. Y/N however had decided to use some of the time to explore the castle, indulging in the silence. She has never liked the feeling of being constrained by walls, even the lavish house of her master in Yunkai repulsed her, oh how she missed roaming free on the back of her horse. Consumed by memories of the past, she bumped into something, or rather someone.

As she slowly lifted her head, her eyes were met with a glistening violet gaze that was piercing right through her. The man had long flowing silver hair much like the one of her princess, he had a patch covering one of his eyes but it was unable to overshadow his handsome face .

“Ah so you are the Dothraki maiden” a cunning smirk was lingering on his lips. “Do you speak the common tongue?”

“Yes” she confidently replied, trying not to stare.

“Yes, your grace” he corrected her with a stern expression. “Well then, you are a maid, aren’t you? Go, draw me a bath” he pointed to his chambers with his smirk reappearing.

“I can’t do that, your grace” she answered, mocking his use of the title.

“You do realize, you’re speaking to the prince, how dare you disobey me” he said, now annoyed, but his smirk still apparent.

This nevertheless did not intimidate Y/N “I only serve the princess Helaena my prince”

This response however, only further angered Aemond, he grabbed her by the arm, now his eye staring directly into hers “You’ve heard of dragons, I suppose” he slyly grinned “I happen to be the rider of the largest one there is, all it takes is one of my commands” he twirled a lock of her hair without looking away from her eyes.

Y/N sighed, slowly entering his chambers, as she heard the heavy wooden doors closing behind them.

Quickly she went to fill in the tub, feeling the prince’s gaze never leaving her. Once the tub was filled with warm water and the alluring aroma from the herbs she had placed filled the room, Y/N finally stood up and faced the prince, no longer trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“May I go now, your grace?”

Aemond locked eye with her, devilish grin playing on his lips “do you expect me to tend to this myself?” He motioned to his attire, covered with filth and dirt, or was it blood.

This time Y/N didn’t even try to object, she knew there was no point in doing so. She mumbled something In Dothraki to herself and cautiously began helping him rid himself of the dirty clothes. Despite her pride and stubbornness Y/N couldn’t deny the otherworldly beauty of the Targaryen prince. He resembled no other man she had ever seen, be it in Yunkai or in the Dothraki hordes. Targaryens were closer to gods than to men, she had heard.

Only when Aemond was left in his breeches did Y/N finally revert her eyes, waiting until she heard the splash from the water. She then kneeled by the tub and started scrubbing his pale skin, desperately trying to escape his gaze. Aemond however kept his eye on her, closely examining her features. Something about this Dothraki girl was drawing him in, he wondered what her story was, how did a savage girl find herself all the way across the narrow sea as a maid to the princess. Aemond could tell she had been taught basic manners and some etiquette along with the common tongue, but even those could not fully conceal her wild upbringing. Her untamed hair was cascading like a waterfall down her back, with several complex braids on top of her head as per Dothraki traditions. She looked rather uncomfortable in her dainty silk gown, he wondered what she was used to wearing.

“What happened to your eye?” Y/N suddenly broke the silence, now examining the leather patch that covered his eye. For a moment, the bluntness of her question caught the prince off guard.

“Curious, are we?” His smirk once again reappeared. “One day I might tell you, but first you owe me a story Wildflower”

“A story?”

“You think I’m unaware of the captivating tales you’ve seemed to tell my beloved sister?” “Don’t you think me worthy of hearing them as well” he gave her a challenging look, their faces now only inches apart.

“Ok then, my prince, as you wish” it was now Y/N’s turn to smirk. She loved telling stories of her lands, they made her feel close to her home, evoking memories of the time when she was free.

Aemond became so enamored with the way the young maiden was narrating her stories, he didn’t notice the water getting cold.

Suddenly Y/N dropped the rag and got up “I must go! The princess!” She rushed to the wooden doors, all manners long forgotten. The prince wanted to stop her, but his pride didn’t let him.

About to get out of the tub, he then saw something glistening under the murky water, it was a gold pendant shaped like a delicate flower, a simple, yet striking piece of jewelry. ‘She must have dropped it’ he thought.

That night Aemond couldn’t get her image out of his head, why was he - a dragon prince so preoccupied with the thoughts of a simple maid from the far eastern lands, he couldn’t explain it to himself, but even if he wouldn’t admit it, he knew that he had to see her again.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x oc #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house of the dragon imagine

[fadedneonzzz]

Now that the first episode of RWBY Beyond has dropped, we got a new nugget of information. Besides Raven showing up out of nowhere and everyone apparently knows she’s a maiden, which is weird because Yang never told anyone Raven was a maiden (on screen at least) but that’s a discussion for another time. No the point of interest here is the new character who we know is a girl and she’s covered up.

What’s even more interesting is that when you brighten the image (credit to twitter user @rainyloona )

It appears to resemble Ruby or most interestingly Summer. Now I’ve never really supported the “Summer is still alive” theory, but it’s certainly a possibility now. The only thing that hurts this theory is that the character looks really young, and while RWBY doesn’t really show age that well, the fact that Sun and Neptune described her as a “girl” and not “woman” implies she looks young.

Another possibility is that this is another Silver Eyed Warrior related to Ruby and Summer as they seem to share hairstyles. This is also reminiscent of the first picture we saw of Summer Rose from V3.

I like to think Silver Eyes are a genetic trait, it’d make sense for Summer and Ruby’s direct relatives to have them.

What is certain is that this person is either the Summer maiden, or someone who knows the whereabouts of the summer maiden. Either way, we’ll know for sure if/when RWBY V10 comes out.

#rwby #rwby beyond #raven branwen #summer rose #ruby rose #summer maiden #rwby volume 10

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝘾𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 5: 𝘾𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜)★★★

Character: Alcina Dimitrescu

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1 (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): N/a

Genre: Fluff

A/n: Day 5 people, I'm not feeling too good but didn't wanna get too much behind, I'll post two tomorrow hopefully.

Word count: 1.2k

...

...

The cold winter months were always depressing around Castle Dimitrescu. The women of the household didn't celebrate Christmas, and the girls couldn't leave the house due to the cold. But after two years of working as a maiden, you were determined to achieve the hallmark Christmas you felt the girls you loved deserved.

You had joined the "family" after your 21st birthday after hearing all of the benefits such as a place to stay and a buttload of cash, but a certain someone was the main reason you stayed.

The lady of the house, Alcina Dimetrescu. Her golden eyes complemented her luscious black locks that would lay softly on her shoulders and bounce slightly every time you or one of the girls made her laugh. Her sweet Romanian accent. Her incredibly seductive body and voice. Her half-transformed form with her tentacles and wings. Everything about the older woman had you in a glue trap, leaving you stuck to writhe around in your own sticky feelings.

Her Romanian nicknames would always leave a dusting of pink across your face as soft as the snow that fell on the castle during the short winter days, and the way her arm would snake around your waist whenever you were standing next to her while she was reading.

You loved the woman and you wanted to be with her for the rest of your life. But you weren't even sure how to express a single percent of your love.

But one thing you did know was what Alcina loved more than anything: her daughters. And making them happy would make her happy, which was your way of flirting with the vampire.

Whenever you'd look at the older woman, you'd wonder what could happen if you just did it. If you just confessed, what would happen?

If you just stood up and made a silent confession, would she even look at you the same?

That's all you could think about as you stood in the large kitchen that had been left alone by all of Alcina's chefs who had gone home for Christmas break. You shuffled through all of the ingredients that rested in the large pantry to find every single ingredient for the chocolate chip cookies you were about to make.

"One O'clock..." You muttered, lifting your head softly to look at the large grandfather clock near the exit of the room you were in before looking at the darkness outside caused by the night, smiling in determination before getting to work.

Your brain was all over the place, and your heart rate was higher than normal due to how quickly you were trying to make the Christmas desserts for your favorite girls.

Swiftly hiking up your Colette dress, you got to work mixing each ingredient in the silver bowls in your hands, laughing each time flour or sugar would fly up into your face. But unbeknownst to you, Alcina was just as awake as you, listening to your heartbeat with her enhanced hearing.

Minutes passed as you busied yourself by finishing off the dough. Using a nearby cookie scoop to place each ball on the parchment paper, you hummed your favorite Christmas carol to yourself, still unaware of the woman listening in.

"What on earth is she doing?" The golden-eyed woman asked out loud, standing up and wrapping a silk black robe slightly against her underwear-clothed frame.

Alcina moved slowly through the castle, checking up on each of her daughters before finally walking towards the kitchen where she heard your heartbeat and other movements.

"What is that smell?" She whispered to herself, pausing in her tracks once she saw you in the kitchen, taking the cookies off of the tray and putting them on a large plate before writing a note next to it.

Standing there, you smiled softly yet proudly as you placed the now empty tray in the marble sink, your eyebrows furrowing once you felt an overwhelming presence behind you.

"Draga mea?" Alcina finally asked you, her tone questioning rather than upset, sharply watching every one of your movements.

You immediately froze up, your eyes shooting wide open.

"My lady- I-" You blushed, turning around, pulling down the skirt of your uniform. "I'm so sorry I just- Please forgive me!" You exclaimed with a shaky voice.

"Y/n I-"

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to wake you! Please forgive me I'll leave!" You ran off, genuinely terrified that the woman you loved would possibly resent you.

Alcina quickly grabbed you, pinning you up against her body, electing a gasp from your body.

"Draga mea, be good and stay still," The black-haired woman said sternly, turning you around to squat down in front of you.

"Yes M-"

"Also none of that, you will call Alcina," Her eyes narrowed. "Now tell me what you were doing,"

"Making cookies for the girls and you... I've just...never seen you or your daughters celebrate Christmas as long as I've been here, and I wanted to give you the special holiday you deserve since you guys can't go out in the cold," You explained, shutting your eyes as your head fell to face the floor.

"Oh Y/n," Alcina cooed, pulling your chin up to face her. "Why would you care so much? After all, I'm just your boss,"

"But you aren't," You sniffled, wiping a single tear from your eyes.

"What do you mean Draga?" The maiden asked, "Don't cry, it's okay, just tell me," She assured you.

"You're more than an employer to me Alci! I love you! And I wanted some way to show it!" You finally confessed, your legs nearly giving out on you from the weight lifted off your chest.

You felt her golden eyes pierce through you, and before she could even speak, you did.

"I'll leave if it makes you uncomfortable I'm sor-"

Your words were cut off by Alcina pressing her lips against your own, squeezing at your body softly, trying to take all of you at once. Her lips were soft and plump, and she tasted delicious and addictive.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that Y/n," She smiled softly before pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Are you serious Alci?" You asked meekly, to which the woman in front of you nodded.

"I've never been it any more than I am right now," Alcina nodded, grabbing a cookie off the plate before taking a bite. "Besides, how could I pass up a good baker like you to be my partner?" She chuckled.

You laughed softly, before pulling her into another kiss, tasting the fruits of your labor in her.

"I think this may be the best Christmas I've ever had, and it's all thanks to you, Y/n," The golden-eyed woman looked at you with adoration, before taking your hand in hers. "Why don't we make it even better and you come to my bedroom with me? We can have more of your cookies when it's a reasonable time to be up,"

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #re8 alcina #resident evil #resident evil village #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #wlw #wlw ns/fw #nblw #nblw ns/fw #wlw and nblw only #Akira writes #12 days of fluffmas #12 days of ficmas

[targayrenss]

Green Skin (II) -Daemon Targaryen

pairing:Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen Oc

Content:Incest, Age-Gap,Angst

•••

Rhaenyra was leaving King's Landing, Alys hadn't stopped crying since she heard the news.

Rhaenyra and her children were her only company lately, Aegon was busy drinking all day, Helaena was obsessed with a new bug in her collection and didn't leave her chambers, Aemond is always studying, and Daren isn't even on landing! King !.

"Why does mother have to go? I don't want Nyra to leave.

Alicent braided her daughter's hair while he comforted her.

—rhaenyra decided, your father and I can't do anything, my love

for a moment only sobs were heard until they faded away.

Do you think I'll be a good mother?

The question took Alice by surprise.

"Why do you ask that, Alyss?"

—I don't know, I think that being a mother is something horribly beautiful, I would like to have many children, it would be nice to braid many hairs

oh poor alys, if she only knew—yeah, that would be nice.

The news of the death of laena velaryon, and the fire where harwin strong nearly died came at the same time.

alys never got the chance to meet laena, but hearing that the poor woman died because she couldn't bring her baby into her world made him want to die with her.

She couldn't stop thinking about how horrible her death was, having to ask your dragon to burn you because the son you expected so much will never come out of you.

poor vhagar, alys vowed never to do such a thing to her dragon, abraxas.

Dressed in a dress similar to her mother's, she was standing next to her father, she knew that even having her next to her he would never pay attention to her.

At the end of the ceremony, she decided to look for rhaenyra.

"Nyra! I'm sorry for your loss and that of your uncle." The sisters hugged each other.

"Thank you, sweet child." Rhaenyra eyed the dress her half-sister was wearing with disgust.

"Could you help me look for Luke? I can't find him." Alys nodded and went looking for her nephew.

It was getting dark and she still hadn't found Luke, when she got to the beach she could see a figure dressed completely in black, with short silver hair, her uncle, her daemon.

"Uncle! I should go back to the castle, it's almost night." The man turned to see her and smiled.

"Alysanne, right?" the redhead nodded.

—I'm very sorry for your loss uncle, I hope the gods take care of laena

Daemon shifted his gaze to the young woman's chest, a star necklace at her neckline.

"Do you want to walk with me, niece?"

Alysanne wanted to refuse, she had to go back to the castle but the look that her uncle gave her made her accept.

Alys didn't know when, how, or why, but she had her uncle on top of her, inside of her.

listening to how her uncle moaned her name, alys had never heard a man moan, she thought that wonderful noise was a gift from the gods.

Daemon kissed her with such passion, he caressed her hair lovingly.

"I'll take you away, I'll make you my wife and you'll have my children." Her words moved her but at the same time scared her.

What would her mother think? She has just lost her maiden to her father's brother, a man who has two daughters close to her age.

when they were getting dressed a gentleman came looking for them.

Alys ran in looking for her younger brother with daemon trailing behind her.

“Aemond!” Alys knelt down to her level, “who did this to you?

Her screams were unleashed once more, Alys felt someone grab her tightly by her wrist.

"Where were you? Your brother lost an eye and you weren't here!" Alicent's voice was heard throughout the room, causing everyone to look at the princess and then at the rogue prince.

I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk on the beach.

Apparently Rhaenyra had given the same excuse when she entered with Sir Harwin Strong.

When Alicent lunged at Rhaenyra with a dagger in her hand, Daemon saw the perfect opportunity and took Alys by the hand, they ran off.

Running away from everything, from everyone.

#Daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x targaryen oc #Daemon targaryen x reader #targaryen oc #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon

[howlingday]

Cinder: (bursts into the kitchen, destroying Ruby's snack in the process)

Ruby: ... that was a twenty dollar... gourmet chocolate chip cookie. (inhales deeply then smiles) So, how can I help you?

Cinder: You must be the great Ruby Rose!

Ruby: 'Suuuuup?

Cinder: I've heard a lot about you.

Ruby: Oh, really?

Cinder: The Hooded Huntress! The Silver Eyed warrior of legend! Who redefines legend itself!

Ruby: Oh, you dirty bitch, work it!

Cinder: Ex... cuse you?

Ruby: Oh, I'm sorry. I like to dirty talk when someone's kissing my ass.

Cinder: Perhaps I should just cut straight to my point. My name is Cinder Fall-!

Ruby: And I'm Little Red Riding Hood! Which way is it to grandma's house?

Cinder: I'm trying to be serious with you!

Ruby: And so am I! And I'm failing. And I'm sorry about that. It's just that I'm so agitated. Because this arrogant little shit just strolled into my kitchen. Destroyed my twenty dollar gourmet cookie! And is now trying to impress me as if I'm her alcoholic mother!

Cinder: (aims sword at Ruby, only to have Crescent Rose aimed at her face)

Ruby: (smiles) Be a dear and grab mommy another bottle of wine, would you?

Alright, I'm going straight off memory here...

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

Cinder: (Dodging gunfire, Lights Ruby aflame) You can't do anything to hurt me! My speed! My stamina! My strength towers, nay, DWARFS yours! Compared to you, I am a Maiden!

Ruby: (Stops) Really?

Cinder: Really.

Ruby: Really?!

Cinder: Really!

Ruby: REALLY?!

Cinder: REALLY!

Ruby: (Holds out hands) Release restraint level one.

Cinder: Level what-? (Suddenly stabbed) AGH! (Looks down to see silver swords)

Cinder: (Crawling) The stairs! I just gotta get to the stairs and- (Sees endless flights) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaw fuuuuuuuuck!

Ruby: (Eyes glowing) WHAT'S WRONG, MAIDEN?! YOU WERE TALKING ALL THAT GOOD SHIT EARLIER! THEN I TURNED YOU FUCKING INSIDE-OUT!

Cinder: (About to cry) I- You- WHAT THE FUCK?!

Ruby: COME ON, MAIDEN! USE YOUR MAGIC! SUMMON YOUR GRIMM! HIT ME! STRIKE ME!

Ruby: (Arms wide) GIVE ME A HUG!

Cinder: R-Really?

Ruby: ...

Cinder: (Angels descend on her) NONONONO- AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruby: (Over screaming, Via PA) THIS IS MY COOKING CHANNEL, AND I'VE GOT A SPECIAL TREAT FOR ALL OF YOU~! TONIGHT, I'M BAKING A LITTLE MAIDEN BITCH-BABY WITH ALL THE TOPPINGS~!. (Maniacal laughter)

Investor: I'm sorry, but who is this?

Weiss: Oh, that's just Ruby. You know, the girl we were just talking about? This is what she has to do to keep herself entertained when she's not being a huntress. Now, what was that about redlighting RWBY?

Investor: Redlighting?! Who said anything about redlighting?!

Investor: Shut up and make Volume 10!

#rwby #cinder fall #ruby rose #hellsing ultimate abridged #weiss schnee #my answer #my answers

[bestworstcase]

@cryptidblues tumblr Ate this ask for some reason so copying text from the email notif

See I’ve always thought that the mechanism through which cinder stole the maiden powers (bug) from Amber made her a Grimm hybrid. And THATS why Ruby’s silver eyes worked on her at the top of beacon tower; regardless of the presence of the wvyern. Because underneath her skin she was Grimm (and still fully human). “Your newfound strength brings with it a crippling weakness”/“You said the light only reacts to Grimm but…it reacted to Cinder”/“perhaps there was something that you just weren’t seeing?” Leading from that the implicit threat of “Oz can’t defeat [Salem]”/“but maybe someone else can?” to Salem is not that Salem could be eradicated by silver eyes (go poof like other Grimm) but rather be put back in The Tower by silver eyes. By being turned to stone. Still immortal but frozen. Trapped. Her Freedom completely sundered. “You thought there was no greater punishment we could bestow upon you?”/“Your light comes from his brother”/“The god of light…his eyes”. There’s an assumption that Salem is invulnerable, no personal skin in the game, “she’ll come back”, nothing effects her, nothing sticks; but her running this risk of being petrified by silver eyes gives depth and high stakes to any interaction she has with Ruby face to face (and her possible complex relationship to a hypothetical favorite silver eyed lieutenant). ᓚᘏᗢ

the reason i Don’t believe the grimm beetle made cinder vulnerable to the glare atop beacon tower is that ruby hits her with a second full-blown glare in atlas towards the end of v7 and—even though cinder by that point has a whole grimm arm—cinder flies away from that one unscathed. either:

a) the implication salem makes in v5 that cinder can learn to resist the glare is true,

b) there is an additional, unknown but more important factor besides “grimm” involved here, or

c) both.

i think the answer is probably both, although more b than a. (maria sees the flash coming from the god of light’s eyes and concludes this power came from him; but she couldn’t see that ruby’s eyes were silver until she saw their light go off, and she missed those two silver-eyed children of ozma’s. “maybe there’s something you’re not seeing” is true of her, too)

(the silver light evokes the pure white of the void between realms, where the dead travel from life to death and the souls of the living and the dead can meet in between. ozma passes through this liminal space every time he dies and reincarnates, and his children with a mortal woman have silver eyes. after ruby witnesses pyrrha’s death and her light erupts, the hand cinder used to kill pyrrha is destroyed and ruby spends months hearing echoes of pyrrha’s final words—which she wasn’t there to see—haunting her dreams. there are butterflies, classic symbols of reincarnation and in certain cultures historically identified as psychopomps, all over the scene where maria discusses her theory. maria is also philosophically wrong in her conception of creation/life as “enemies” of destruction; destruction feedslife and exists in balance with creation, and the glare itself is definitionally destructive. silver eyes have something to do with death.)

the kids at least, per nora and “maybe someone else can [destroy salem]?” do seem to be thinking in terms of ruby’s eyes being the silver bullet that can stop salem if not destroy her outright, and ruby has the wyvern example to look to to be thinking about trapping salem in stone forever. but then the leviathan is there to raise the possibility that petrification is not necessarily forever, and salem herself seems unconcerned when ruby’s eyes start to flash in ironwood’s office. plus again the implication salem makes that the glare can be resisted: if that is something she taught cinder to do, it’s something salem must be able to do too.

i do think the glare is probably capable of hurting her somehow—i have my own specific headcanons as to how for Fic Purposes but in terms of textual speculation, what happens if you take a grimm woman who can’t die and blast her with the grimm-killing light from the threshold between life and death? it sounds painful, if nothing else.

but if the leviathan could break free after being petrified, and salem is both immortal and human and thus able to, like cinder in v7, resist the glare in some way, i think being turned to stone or encased in stone is not likely to slow her down for very long. although i can’t imagine she would enjoy the experience.

the other factor to consider is that—well, quite a lot of the fandom assumes the point of silver eyes is to “purify” the grimm out of people, for example saving cinder from her grimm arm, and on the basis of maria’s theory that is an easy extrapolation to make; which is to say, after the experience in the ever after, i wouldn’t be surprised if the idea of “purge the grimm out of salem to make her herself again?” was broached on the heroes side. the reality though is that being grimm is not what’s wrong with salem and becoming grimm is something she chose, or at least accepted as a possible consequence of what she attempted to do when she jumped into the pool of grimm, and using silver eyes to try to Force Her to go backwards is probably not a good idea and not something that will work. she is change incarnate—that’s what destruction means.

so there is a thematic challenge here that might be explored; seen through the lens of maria’s theory, silver eyes are anti-change (preservation) and therefore anti-theme (destruction is part of life, not the enemy of life) so her theory is incomplete and the most obvious way to fill in the gaps and arrive at the whole truth is to test the glare against salem herself, because she is change. 

and because rwby is so thematically driven i’d anticipate this happening concurrently with salem turning in a new direction, which intersects in very interesting ways with what is being set up vis-a-vis needing cinder to open the vaults vs wanting cinder to be alive, safe, and free. (i think the momentum there is toward salem being forced to choose between getting the crown and protecting cinder, and she’ll sacrifice the crown for cinder’s sake; the… possibility of silver eyes being involved in that scenario is obvious.)

#silver eyes my windmill. #there’s also details like jaune—no one else #just jaune—flinching when ruby’s eyes go at haven #you know. the kid with the death wish. very interesting

[strqyr]

hmmm...

a silver-eyed warrior. a maiden. a huntress.

ruby rose. cinder fall. pyrrha nikos.

summer rose. gretchen rainart. raven branwen.

everyone was crushed when pyrrha chose beacon over haven; no one wanted to see her go. pyrrha, the maiden candidate. pyrrha, who understood she had a responsibility, who wouldn't regret her choice, because a huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make. (she never got the chance to graduate, but she was still a huntress.)

pyrrha lost her life trying to fight cinder to buy time, knowing what it would cost her.

despite her brother's wishes, gretchen enrolled at beacon academy to become a huntress. gretchen, the most probable spring maiden. tragically, she lost her life during her time at beacon. (she never got the chance to graduate.)

hazel did what gretchen would have done; he lost his life to buy time, to ensure others would get away.

cinder, the fall maiden, kills pyrrha, but gets severely injured—nearly dies—by the silver light of one ruby rose.

gretchen dies under uncertain circumstances, but: it wasn't personal, it was mercy (penny, the winter maiden, is severely injured and gets mercy killed by jaune; how injured was gretchen at the time of her death for it to be mercy?)

it's because of the maiden's power, says salem. but why, when grimm are the obvious answer?

... i think. the answer is somewhere above.

#how one mission can haunt me 101

[kaiyeti]

Oz: Now that all four of you are the new maidens I think Its time I show you how to do more than just control the elements.

Blake, aka summer maiden: Wait. We can do more than that?

Oz: Yes.

Weiss, aka Winter Maiden: Why didn't you tell or show Winter!?

Oz: For starters, I was trying not to merge with Oscar. And when I wasn't Winter wouldn't let me. Now The first thing you'll have to do is-*Very loud explosion.* ...

Ruby, aka silver eyed fall Maiden: *glowing flaming eyes dimming as she Blinks after making actually laser beams come out her eyes.* HA! I TOLD YOU MY EYE BALLS ALSO GOT UPGRADED!

Yang, aka Spring maiden who is also a phoenix: That is cool. Buuuut *Turns into a phoenix and flips her wings making a fire tornado before semi turning back.* Mine is still cooler!

OWB: ...

Oz: I should probably-

Blake: Teach them first and us separately?

Weiss: Yes. That seem to be the safer choice.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #ozma #professor ozpin

[rwac96]

Spartan's Lament (RWBY AU)

The Jabberwalker growled as it walked on all fours, it jerked from left to right. The Afteran Predator growls as it stalks through the tall grass of a nearby settlement. The monster muttered one word, an adversary it had encountered some time ago. An opponent that would stand in the way of its purpose. Its tail flicked at the thought of its opponent; a warrior in rusted armor with a broken blade and rusted shield, that sported twin crescent moons.

"K-Knight," The Jabberwalker growled, picking up its foe's scent. "Knight!" It raises its twitching claw, preparing to strike down the interloper.

But, instead, it was pushed down to the ground on its back. The monster twitched and jittered, looking up to see an oxidized spear; green rust with some semblance of copper. Then, it became surrounded by a black aura, much to the Walker's confusion. But, the creature sniffs the air, growling lowly.

"S-Spartan!" The Walker then spots the lance returning to its owner, who caught it easily, the black aura disappearing. "Spartan!"

The armored woman gripped her lance in her right hand, holding an identical oxidized shield with the left. Sporting an oxidized, hypolite helmet, she glared at the Afteran with a pair of emerald irises. Long, red hair fell from behind; some grey can be seen in it. She takes a deep breath, beginning to circle around the Jabberwalker. The Spartan crouches down as the reptilian-lupine beast sprints towards her, then lunges for attack. It was met with a harsh shield bash courtesy of the armored woman, who then tossed it. It cries out in pain as it is struck again, falling down onto the earth as the shield returns to its owner.

"Leave," the armored woman spoke with command, pointing her lance at the dark violet beast. "Now!"

The Walker hissed in protest, raising both claws, not taking the Spartan's warning to heart. The redhead simply sighed, as she then charged toward the beast. Once more, she tosses her lance at the Walker, which smacks the weapon away. She raises her right hand, glowing black, calling back the spear. The Walker sprints toward the redhead, slashing its left claw at her, only to be blacked by the shield. Staggering back and groaning in pain, The Walker was met with a jab to its chest its opponent. She pulls her lance out of the creature's chest, only to jab it repeatedly; causing the monster to roar.

"Back!" She raises her shield, slamming it against the beast's grey masque. "Back, damn you!"

Clutching at one of the wounds, the beast turns around and limps away from the warrior. The Huntress exhaled lowly, turning around to a village in the distance. A village made of paper, a place she has come to call home since falling into this strange land. She begins the long walk back, many thoughts running through her mind. It has been decades since she and the Knight found themselves practically stranded, sent back due to that damned Clock Fruit. The first months after that incident, she was angry with her partner. But, more importantly, she was angry with herself. Angered at the amber-eyed 'Maiden', and angered at the silver-eyed brat, whose plan went wrong.

At this moment, since they found this village filled with paper-like beings called 'Paper Pleasers', they were the protectors of these innocents. But, innocents who always seemed to get themselves into trouble. The Spartan felt like a slave for all of her life, a slave to destiny, a slave to her status as a famed gladiator and celebrity status, a slave to the Old Man's crusade against his scorned lover, and now, a slave to a seemingly suicidal species. As she reached the bridge, she grabbed a hold of her helmet, removed it, and looked down at it.

"How long can I keep this up?" Pyrrha Nikos asked herself, "How long can we keep this up?" She lifted her head up to the blonde knight in rusted armor, pulling a ruby Paper Pleaser from one of the sharp stones.

Then, she looked up to the black sky, seeing four lights coming down. Red, White, Violet, and Yellow; colors that they waited years to see again. Then, the thought of the Walker came to Pyrrha's mind, the Red Prince. Though it had been years since Atlas' Fall, Pyrrha still resented the four, who stranded them in this demented Fairy Tale, who left them to play the roles of the Rusted Knight and the Tarnished Spartan, who left them with a selfish and cruel child known as Alyx. The same child who poisoned her beloved, who listened to that damned cat.

"How...How long can those four stay alive in this mad place?"

(based on the 'Tarnished Spartan' images by @davidellisartworkstuff)

#text post #text prompt #fanfiction #rwby #rwby au #rwby vol 9 #pyrrha nikos #the tarnished spartan #jabberwalker