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novaursa · 2 years

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The Fall (Part 4)

Targaryen!OC x Karstark!OC and one-sided Targaryen!OC x Daemon Targaryen. I’ve decided to write something a little extra before the time jump.

Part 1 Intro, Part 1, Part 2 Intro, Part 2, Part 3 Intro, Part 3, Part 4 Intro, Part 5 Intro, Part 5, Part 6 Intro, Part 6, Part 7 Intro, Part 7

The Plot: Ten years have passed since Daenys left for the North to become Lady Karstark, and her twin sister married Laenor Velaryon. The fire starts burning over the horizon.

- Disclaimer: I only own my OCs and other stuff you don’t recognize from the books and the show.

- Warning: This story is rated M. It will contain incest, violence, blood, gore and other mature themes.

(Silixia)

Holy water cannot help you now Thousand armies couldn't keep me out I don't want your money I don't want your crown See, I've come to burn your kingdom down

Silixia was obsessively flying over Karhold and nearby mountains. She was launching herself somewhere from the Grey Cliffs all the way towards the castle. Her large form was casting an impressive shadow to land below her. The dragon roared and screeched, obviously in distress, or alarmed. Still, the brass beast wasn’t overflowing too low to cause any damage to common folk that dwelled on the land. Nevertheless, her behavior was not normal. And she was doing this all morning. It was a little past noon now. Lord Artos was observing her from the courtyard, just as she took another leap with her wings above him. A large gush of wind knocked down nearby riding equipment that was placed on the stands. Horses started to neigh, trying to free themselves in a desperate panic. Soldiers and servants of the castle were trying their best to calm the animals down, but it was in vain. Every time the dragon drew close, the horses went into a panicked frenzy. The screeching could be heard in the distance. "She is going back towards the Grey Cliffs." Said Maester Bodrin who was standing next to Artos.

"She will be back," Artos replayed tearing his gaze off the sky. "I’ve never seen Silixia acting in such a manner."

Bodrin was silent for a moment, looking at the Lord before him. His old grey eyes studied the man before him. His master was tired. Dark circles could be seen under his velvet blue orbs, his skin was pale and his hair dimmed. The recent events were taking a toll on him. Maester Bodrin served Artos’ family many, many years loyally. But some things were even beyond his control. "I believe that Princess is the only person who can calm the dragon down," the old man started slowly. "She should awake soon-"

"You said that two days ago."

"It’s the fever, My Lord. I did everything that my abilities allowed me." Bodrin said remorsefully.

Artos let out a sigh, "I know you did." He didn’t blame the man. Mostly, he blamed himself. Bodrin asked every day to make him a sleeping draught. Every day he refused. "Something must be setting her off, or she senses things that we yet can’t."

"Princess did try to fly over the Wall. Perhaps, something happened on the way." Bodrin stated.

"No," Artos shook his head, "She wouldn’t lie to me. Daenys tried to fly with Silixia over the Wall, but the dragon didn’t want to go over it. She tried it five times before she gave up. After that, she returned straight to Karhold."

Bodrin nodded, "Then, perhaps-"

"Lord Karstark!" The voice of the general cut off the Maester. Man’s armor clanked as he approached the two, he tried to catch his breath after he ran all the way from the watch post where his men were stationed. "There is something you should see, it is urgent."

Artos followed after his general; the look on the man’s face told him they needed to hurry. Just as they climbed the walls of the castle to reach the post, Silixia flew over their heads. The dragon screeched angrily, her massive bat-like wings making sounds like a hurricane brewing in the skies. The Lord and his general stopped on the spot where one could see all lands surrounding the Karhold. "There, my Lord. Can you see it?"

He could. The red dot was growing fast as it was approaching them. Silixia was aggressively intercepting it. Artos frowned, finally understanding the dragon’s odd behavior. "Prepare the men for the welcoming party."

Lord watched for a few more minutes as the brass dragon did her best to deflect the newcomer. The beast violently threw herself at the other dragon, almost knocking the rider off his back. Silixia made a barrier with her body, not allowing trespasser to pass a certain point. Eventually, the rider was forced to land, while Silixia perched herself on a nearby hill to have a target in sight. Artos and his men eventually passed below her. He could smell sulfur radiating off her breath and see clear liquid dripping down her jaw, catching small fires as it touched the ground. Silixia’s breath rumbled like thunder in her belly. His horse slightly panicked, but calmed itself as they passed further down, towards the dragon rider.

Artos remembers that Daenys told him how all the dragons at the Dragonpit disliked Caraxes. He was considered a freak amongst their kind. His whole body was too much elongated and because of his deformed snout, he could only make whale-like noises; which seemed to irritate his kin. Silixia let out a warning roar as they drew closer to now dismounted wyrm. Caraxes screeched back, which made she-dragon even more feral. Before things could escalate further, Daemon approached Artos and his soldiers.

"It appears that you earned the loyalty of a dragon, Lord Karstark. I must admit that I am impressed."

"Silixia only defends her territory, my Prince, as we did not receive news of your visit." Artos gave a cold stare to the Targaryen man, making no effort to give him warm welcome. He was not welcomed here, and the brass dragon was there to remind the prince of that fact.

Daemon was amused more than intimidated it seemed if one would go by the grimace that was dancing on his face, "This is an unplanned visit. I brought a gift." Before his hand could reach into the satchel by his side, Silixia roared again, making him stop. He made eye contact with the beast. Ember pits observed his every move, daring him to do something to provoke her. Daemon gave up, trying to calm the angered bronze down.

Artos only calmly turned to his general, "Give Prince Daemon a horse and escort him back to the castle with your men. I’ll ride ahead. It appears we have a royal visitor."

Holy water cannot help you now See, I've come to burn your kingdom down And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out I'm gonna raise the stakes I'm gonna smoke you out

Artos waited patiently for the prince to arrive, to be done with this farce. He even played with the notion of killing him, but honor in him would never allow it. Oh, but how it was tempting. People held no love for Daemon here, his men needed only to hear the words. No, he told himself. I am a better man than he. And Daenys would never forgive him should he would be the one to kill someone from her family, and break all the vows he swore to her House.

When Daemon finally did arrive, the younger man didn’t waste any time with false pleasantries. Artos called him to follow after him, as he escorted him along the stony corridors of Karhold. The trip was done in silence.

Both men halted before the chamber doors with a large white sunburst sigil in the middle. Artos open them and large doors squeaked. The room was well-lighted. Sunrays were coming from the window, it was far warmer in here than it was in all of the castle even without the active fireplace; Daemon noted.

The older woman was sitting in the corner, wearing a grey dress. She was reading a book. Once she saw who the visitors were, she stood up and bowed, "M’Lord. Prince."

"You can leave, Gilda. I’ll call for you later." Artos said and the woman left, leaving the two of them alone.

"Go on then," The brown-haired lord urged the prince after the doors were closed behind them. "Do what you came to do, my Prince."

Daemon gave him a brazen-faced glance before he proceeded to walk over to the wooden crib that was placed on the far side of the room. By the fireplace that was not lit. His gaze fell down on the sleeping babe. It was tightly wrapped in a brown blanket, with a small patch of silver hair sticking out above the forehead.

Daemon quietly took the deep silver, metallic scaled stone out of his satchel and placed it in the base of the crib. "What’s his name?" His voice came out softer than he intended.

"Aerys Targaryen."

"You surprise me yet again, Lord Karstark."

"I am no fool," Artos’ voice cut like a knife through the empty air that echoed in the room. "But I love my wife. And may the Gods help you if she dies."

"Is that a treat, my good Lord?"

"A promise. Now leave. You did what you came to do. Next time you come to Karhold unannounced, on dragonback, I will consider it as an act of aggression."

Daemon left and the next morning Daenys woke up.

And now all your love will be exorcised And we will find you saying it's to be better now And it's an even sum It's a melody It's a battle cry It's a symphony

Ten years have passed since Daenys fell into a nightmarish sleep brought on by a fever. Yet, she still remembers the dreams. Silixia never wanted to go over the Wall, but Daenys in her nightmares did. She could still smell the snow and feel the chilling air that passed through her body. She remembers dead blue eyes before crashing into the frozen lake. He looks better in red. Her dead siblings flew over the frozen water, desperately trying to lift her up. But the water was too deep and too cold. Then, she woke up – her fever gone completely, her body ice cold.

I fear this will hunt me until the day I die, Daenys taught, looking at three of her oldest children as they played in the courtyard below the balcony. Her fourth, youngest child, Lyann was four years old and was currently with Gilda. The sweet old woman that served Karstark family all her life watched over her in the warm comforts of a castle. Lyann looked just like Daenys, with silver hair and soft lilac eyes. And she carried the most resemblance to her oldest brother, Aerys.

Oh, my dear son, the princess felt her heart squeezing in her chest. Artos never made any difference between the boys, he even allowed the boy to carry Targaryen name. While he could not lay claim on Karhold, he was still considered his son. The next title of the Lord would go to her second-born Kiran, who was eight years old now. While Rickon who was six would be next in line for Karhold after Kiran. Both of the younger boys inherited their father’s blue eyes and face, but their Valyrian blood gave them silver hair.

The boys were now practicing swordplay with their uncle Rickard. It was still more of a child’s play than real fighting, but it was evident that all three boys were gifted swordsmen.

"First one to knock the sword out of my hand can get a free ride on Merothrax when he’s large enough to fly two." Aerys playfully challenged his siblings.

"No thank you, brother. I think we prefer to feel the ground beneath our feet. But, that doesn’t mean will go easy on you." Kiran chuckled shuffling the training sword in his hand.

"Watch your left side, Aerys. Rickon, move your feet faster." Their uncle warned them, just as Rickon took his chance to attack distracted Aerys. Wooden swords dully clanked as the older boy deflected an attack. Rickon stumbled and his backside landed on the muddy ground.

Aerys smiled before helping his brother to get back on his feet, "Next time, swing at me harder. I can take it."

Daenys smiled watching them. This day was one of the cold ones, and even snow was falling from time to time. She tightened the furs around her, wondering how dragons tolerate this climate. Silixia was almost immune to it, or she pretended to be. Merothrax hatched here; perhaps he didn’t know anything else so he adapted. Mostly he followed Silixia, taking shelter underneath her shadow. Daenys saw them sharing meals, so, they were getting along. As long as they don’t cause any trouble.

"There you are."

Her husband’s voice woke her up from her wandering thoughts. Artos joined her on the balcony, placing his right arm around her waist. She relaxed under his touch, "I came to clear my head a little. Fresh air helps."

Artos nodded, "You were tossing and turning in your sleep again last night."

"I am sorry that I woke you up."

"No, don’t be." He said softly. "I just wish I could help. Perhaps, I could ask Maester Bodrin to-"

"There is no need," Daenys quickly interjected. "The nightmares must pass on their own accord. They always had. Nothing can cure them except time."

Letting go of her, Artos took both of her small hands into his larger ones. His gaze held nothing but love, still, Daenys could see worry behind his blue orbs, "The raven came from King’s Landing." He started. "Princess Rhaenyra gave birth to another boy. There was also a message for you; I left it on the desk in our chambers."

"The Queen must be mad with another set of theories now," Daenys frowned, knowing that another dark-haired babe can only make Alicent even more spiteful. Everybody at court knew that her children were not fathered by Laenor Velaryon. The man had other tastes. But they all knew better than to tie their tongues, otherwise, King Viserys would have them silenced. His word was law. As long as their father was alive, Rhaenyra was safe. But he was sick, and his reign will soon end.

Daenys didn’t see her sister since her wedding. It was held shortly after hers – and it ended in bloodshed. Ser Cole killed Ser Lonmouth. The whole event was a disaster. From Alicent’s entrance and her green dress with which she declared war; to Daemon showing up unannounced. Throughout the whole event, Daenys tried her best to avoid mostly everyone, staying close to her husband. She evaded Daemon two times, on the third one, he caught up to her.

"Istan ziry sȳz naejot ao, byka mere."

"Jikagon qrīdrughagon."

Daenys shook his tight grip off her shoulder. She tried turning her back to him and lost herself in the crowd, but was unsuccessful. He grabbed her again, facing her to look at him. "Lady Royce is dead."

She could feel his breath on her face, and pain from his firm grip was burning her shoulder; leaving a mark. "You are-"

"Let her go," a voice came like a low growl behind Daemon. "Now."

He released her from his grip. "So, you do have teeth Lord Karstark." Daemon mocked before leaving them alone in the sea of nobles. And if Daenys knew what will come soon after, she would drag her sister out of that miserable affair.

They can keep me out 'Til I tear the walls 'Til I save your heart And to take your soul And what has been done Cannot be undone In the evil's heart In the evil's soul

When Daenys read the message her twin sent, she knew that Rhaenyra was afraid. Not long after she gave birth, there was a fire in Harrenhal. There died Lord Lyonel Strong and his son, Harwin Strong – the father of her boys. Fearing now, for her children’s safety, Rhaenyra took her family to Dragonstone. She was begging Daenys to join her there. And for the first time in her life, Daenys feared that she could not answer her sister’s cries for help.

Since birth they were experiencing everything together, Rhaenyra’s pain was Daenys’ pain. When Daenys fell down and scraped her knees, both twins cried. When they were in different rooms, they were both thinking the same things. A few days passed and she argued with herself if she should stay here with her own family, or fly to Dragonstone to support her sister. Then another raven came; one carrying the news from across the Narrow Sea. Laena Velaryon was dead. She ordered her dragon to burn her alive after discovering that she and her babe would not survive the birth. Laena will be put to rest in Driftmark.

"We will need to start preparing for the journey," Artos said after Daenys finished reading the small scroll. "My brother can finish preparations for Lord Cregan Stark’s arrival. I’m sure that my cousin will not bear any ill thoughts if we leave for Driftmark before he arrives. Your whole family will be there, we should be as well."

He will be there. Daenys added in her mind. She knew Daemon well. Perhaps there was a small part of him that did indeed hold love for Laena, but he in truth, the princess knew that her uncle was very selfish to any such emotions. Daemon loved himself the most; his self-preservation was above anything else. Above the daughters, his late wife gave him, above his brother the King. Above Daenys. Artos noticed his wife’s lack of response and the shadow that passed across her fair face. So, he spoke again, "You should see your sister and father. Don’t make yourself a prisoner of my House. We could bring Aerys and Kiran, the boys will enjoy the journey. Rickon and Lyann can remain here in Karhold under the watchful eye of their uncle."

"Everything stinks of war, Artos." Daenys spoke with a bitter taste in her mouth.

"You locking yourself here won’t change what is to come, if it has to happen. Let us go to Driftmark and show your father and Rhaenyra that they had our support. The North swore its allegiance to your sister; let us remind the greens of that."

Her husband was right. Them being there would send a powerful message.

"We are off to Driftmark then." She crumbled the piece of paper in her hand, her mind filling with thoughts of fire and blood.

…

Silixia was waiting for her rider in the clearing near Karhold, while Merothrax will remain here. The male dragon was young and still small for such long-distance journeys. He was docile enough, but Aerys yet has to learn how his dragon thinks.

"Few more years and he will be strong enough to fly anywhere you want." Daenys said to her oldest as he was saying goodbye to his dragon.

The deep silver softly snarled, his teeth rattling happily as Aerys stroked his scales. Dragon’s black eyes concentrated on Silixia, as she screeched impatiently now; wanting to take off. Merothrax huffed when his rider backed off, spreading out his wings allowing the sun to reveal obsidian markings that decorated his back and underbelly. With one strong swing, he was in the air, going towards the nearby hills.

"Will he be there?" The boy asked, not looking at his mother. Instead, he found something interesting on the ground.

"Yes."

"I don’t want to talk with him."

"Then you don’t have to." Daenys said softly. She squeezed her son’s shoulder gently in reassurance. While the boy did resemble his father, he inherited his mother’s character. And thank the Gods for that. Daenys said to herself before she continued out loud, "Come, ride with me. The others are a few days ahead of us already."

Aerys chuckled, his mood improving once his mother started climbing her dragon, "As long as Silixia doesn’t try to give me another scare of my life. Last time we flew on her, she tried to shake me off in the river."

Daenys returned him the same warm smile when she was in the saddle, "She won’t, don’t worry. She’s deeply sorry for her poor sense of humor."

Silixia turned her long neck, her ember eye looking at Daenys. The dragon huffed with a sound that resembled mild offense. Both mother and son laughed. A few moments after, Daenys reached out her arm towards the boy , "Come on, climb on."

Dragon slightly bent her right side for Aerys to climb onto her. She was large, but the saddle was well made. It allowed one to climb onto the back with relative ease, even if the child had no problem going on Silixia. When he was within reach of his mother’s hand, he grabbed it. Daenys then pulled him up, helping the boy to sit in front of her.

"Sōvegon."

As soon as Daenys spoke, Silixia started to spread her wings. Taking a long leap, her wings made a thundering noise as the dragon launched herself into the air. The cold air hit both her and Aerys. They could barely see anything when the dragon started to fly at her full speed.

After a few hours, they catch up with the rest of the traveling party.

The brass beast flew over them before taking a long turn back. Daenys felt once again cold wind going through her skin, and all the memories of a nightmare came back. About the long cold night and the dead.

She prayed to Gods that she doesn’t live to see it.

Seven devils all around you Seven devils in your house See, I was dead when I woke up this morning I'll be dead before the day is done

Before the day is done

#house of the dragon #house of dragons #house targaryen #otto hightower #oc #fanfic #game of thrones #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen #romance #dark #rheanyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #the dance of the dragons #dragons #dragon #story #one shot #daemon targeryen x reader

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flickerintwilights · 10 months

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zelink week 2023 | free day

—stories of flying

rated G / set before botw’s calamity / 2268 words

@zelinkcommunity

(excerpt) He’s not a child anymore. Now he’s — now, he’s here, and he’s seventeen years old. He has a sword, the sword, strapped to his back, in its sheath, and even the sheath is glimmering and catching the light from the sky. Moon and stars; the barrier is still up. He’s lying in the grass, hair unbound, snagging a little on the hilt of his blade.

There’s a girl next to him, Zelda. She’s pointing out constellations.

The sky is not completely inaccessible, even through the cloud barrier. Clouds are just water, after all, and even water wound with magic from a race of gods (or something like it) is permeable, eventually. Getting up there is the challenge, and the reason that very few from the surface ever lay eyes on the sky islands after their raising, or on the other creatures that weave invisible trails of magic through the clouds. But it can be done.

Remember: very, very rarely. But it is possible.

It was the ancient Sheikah, of course. They were the architects of the Divine Beasts; Vah Medoh soared the skies below, if not above, and other creations of theirs could go higher. They set their sights for the heavens, before they fell.

So it was the Sheikah, a mage and a researcher, along with a Rito scientist for the added benefit of having wings, who broke the clouds for the first time in thousands of years. They found and recorded the existence of a before unseen dragon with brilliant white scales, spikes and antler-like horns of luminous turquoise-blue, and a glowing golden mane, leaving a long winding weave of magic from the crown of its head. They wanted to investigate, especially given the lack of visible elemental hazards such as with the other three dragons. They also wanted to investigate the floating islands growing in gold, and the tall building rising up and out from the greatest one.

They never got the chance. For either. They fell, because the Sheikah have a habit of falling, and they never went up again, because the Sheikah have a habit of doing that too.

Specifically, it was because both Sheikah died on the expedition. The Rito survived alone by the usefulness of wings to tell the tale to the gossips and the villagers, who passed it down as folktales. Longer-lived versions of the old ones, from back when the white-scaled dragon first ascended to the clouds. Soon after, the First Great Calamity came, and no one tried to reach the sky again. Let it not be said that Mineru of the Zonai was not brilliant, for raising the lands and the secrets of her people to the heavens.

Thousands of years will pass. Ten, to be somewhat exact. It really is a long time. The story of the land in the sky, at least, survives in children’s stories. Who doesn’t want to believe that? Not adults, of course, they’re too realistic. But children can. A little girl named Shamae, at a stable at the foot of the woods, will, for example. Most of the tale about the light dragon will be lost; many already have a hard enough time believing in the three dragons that do descend to the earth, winding just around civilization.

Most.

There was a child who loved dragons, once. Not anymore, for the first thing; he still loves them. Dragons have a way of coming back to you. But once he was a child, and once he lived in a small village where everyone knew everyone and so everyone knew him, and eventually a traveling merchant came in and stories moved as stories do and somehow someone managed to tell him that there might be a light dragon, a fourth one, not just the elemental three that you say you’ve seen because your papa travels all over. This is a very old story and it’s probably not true — well, it might not be true, so don’t go around saying it is, but maybe you’d like to know.

The child did, in fact, like to know. He looked for the light dragon everywhere, after hearing that story. He didn’t find it because he can’t fly (yet), but he liked the story. (Likes. He’s still alive. Don’t worry for him; he loves dragons.) While he was looking for it and not finding it, he was also looking for the other three dragons and finding them, and he was also defeating adults with a sword, and he was also traveling with his papa who was a royal guard who was eventually stationed at the Military Training Camp at the foot of the woods.

And his name is Link. He drew the Master Sword from the woods.

He’s not a child anymore. Now he’s — now, he’s here, and he’s seventeen years old. He has a sword, the sword, strapped to his back, in its sheath, and even the sheath is glimmering and catching the light from the sky. Moon and stars; the barrier is still up. He’s lying in the grass, hair unbound, snagging a little on the hilt of his blade.

There’s a girl next to him, Zelda. She’s pointing out constellations.

“They’re apparently significant to the ancient Sheikah,” she’s explaining, “do you remember the shrines — they have depictions of constellations all over them. Purah only ran into constellations a few times during her studies, but she and I have been using an old telescope lately, going into old Sheikah texts to find their signs. We’re currently in the process of deciphering them as much as we can. We might even be able to find meaning in the constellations shown on the shrines!”

Link nods attentively, eyes on the sky. A star is glimmering brightly, a little to the north; they’re by Lake Hylia now, for reference. The lake is sloshing gently at the green slopes, and the bridge is quiet. The sky is clear. He points up, to the point of light in the sky, in question. It feels vaguely familiar, he might have seen it when he was stargazing as a child.

Zelda follows his hand, looking up. “That one? Hm… oh, that’s the Central star. I think… it’s supposed to be part of our constellation for your sword, but for the ancient Sheikah it was part of a constellation they depicted on the old Sheikah towers — like the one on the Great Plateau, that we haven’t been able to activate. It’s the only one we’ve found, so we aren’t certain that it’s a repeated motif, but we haven’t seen it on the shrines either, so… we’re making guesses.”

She wiggles her fingers vaguely in illustration, a carefree motion of the kind she wants to make more often, and she can’t help her smile. It’s contagious, anyway, now Link is smiling too.

Zelda traces out the shape of a teardrop, connecting stars with her finger. “It was the sign for wisdom. Given the towers, and the shrines, there might be a corresponding sign for courage — that is the attribute associated with the hero — and maybe even one for power, though I’m… not sure where we might find that.”

Link hums in interest. “Was that a teardrop for wisdom?” he signs.

“Yes, apparently.” He makes a face, and Zelda shrugs. “It probably is for the same reason that the Sheikah eye has a teardrop, but I don’t know why. Maybe wisdom is inherently associated with sadness.”

It’s a depressing thought. More so, when you consider that Zelda is Zelda, with the blood of the goddess, and the historic representation of Wisdom.

“It shouldn’t be,” Link signs in response, after considering, and he shifts closer to her and presses his shoulder against hers. His right shoulder, because he’s left the Master Sword on the grass a few feet away. She leans into the touch, because he’s warm and a bit of a wind is picking up, and because it’s nice. She hasn’t done it often, before.

The wind is more than a bit, though. It begins to gust and then to rise, whipping their hair into their faces. Zelda laughs, bright and open, because Link looks funny with his hair flying all over his face instead of pulled back in its ponytail like it usually is. But then she quiets, and she turns to the lake. The water is picking up along with the wind.

Look.

The wind swirls up, and the water sprays from the shore by the sudden motion of the waves, a few droplets landing on their legs and clothes. Light ripples from the center of the lake, just outside the bridge’s shadow, yellow-green and electric. From the glow, a horn breaks the surface of the water. Maybe breaks isn’t the best word; it’s too clean, too graceful, as if the water had parted in that singular form to allow passing.

The light flows down the horn in rivulets of water, or the shape of it, because it doesn’t seem to be wet. Following the tip of the horn, as it bends and winds down to its source, is a nose, electric green scales, two brilliant eyes bathed in green and gazing blue-purple. Then the mane, crackling with energy, tinged yellow-green, flowing over the ears and down to the body’s glinting scales.

A dragon. Farosh. Spirit of the forest, of courage, of the spring.

They’ve both seen them before; they emerge from the lake regularly, on their time, and they’ve both been to the lake. It’s a landmark of the kingdom, named for the goddess. Of course they have.

The thing about dragons, though, is that every time you see them, you can’t help but look. They’re beautiful. Timeless.

They sit on the slope and watch Farosh, in silence, as they ascend. Sparks of electricity forming and balling and unwinding around them. A miniature thunderstorm, alive with energy.

“I used to love dragons when I was a kid,” Link signs, shoulders back, eyes still drawn to Farosh as they descend past the bridge, looping back into the water. The same graceful, weightless dive, just down instead of up. “I mean, I’d see them all the time, and they were also in all these books, and they sounded so cool.”

“What kind of books did you read?” Zelda asks, curiously. “The books I had about dragons were… mainly about them as servants of the goddess.” See, she likes dragons too. Does that sound redundant? It’s hard not to, first of all. But more importantly, she’s always been able to see them — as they circle, circle, circle, never faltering from their same steady unknowable paths through valleys and over mountains. A contradiction, but the good kind, where she thinks she understands even if maybe she really doesn’t, and that’s enough for her.

Still, she wouldn’t describe their appearances in the stories she was told as cool. So she’s curious.

“Uh.” Link scratches the back of his head, a little sheepish. Half of Farosh’s long body has gone through the water. “Picture books? Or adventure. They usually showed up as guiding spirits, or they gave the hero powers or blessings. I think I read one once where the hero flew around on one. But—” He hasn’t read these books in years, not since he pulled the sword and became a knight and had a destiny placed on his back. It’s both nostalgic, a nice memory to come back to, and it’s books he read when he was ten. An accomplished swordsman already, but still ten. He’s seventeen now, of course he’s embarrassed.

Zelda laughs, genuinely, as he signs. She wants to read those books, a little.

“I heard a lot more stories, though. Travelers would talk about them on the road. Like, this story that the Dueling Peaks were split by a dragon, have you heard that? And that dragons live above the clouds.”

“I believe I’ve heard the second one,” Zelda replies thoughtfully. “There are plenty of old legends about a city in the sky, all varying. Dragons get mentioned in at least one version.”

Link nods. “There’s also a story about a… light dragon? White dragon?” He shrugs. “The words get jumbled in translation. It’s meant to be a fourth dragon, other than the three elemental ones. Up in the sky somewhere, so we never see it. It seems pretty obscure, though. If it did exist, it’s probably gone.”

The last of Farosh’s spikes vanishes past the surface of the water, and the lake is still again.

Zelda gazes up to the sky. It’s still clear, but the stars are beginning to fade back into invisibility. The sun is rising in the east. “Stories always come from somewhere. It’s not likely, but… still, I’m glad you told me. It’s interesting to think about, isn’t it? If there could be countless other dragons up there, that we just can’t see?”

“Wonder why it’s only those three that come down, then,” Link signs, propping his chin up on his spare elbow and gazing out over the lake. Farosh is gone now, not even a crackle of electricity left, but the lake is still beautiful in their wake. The first glimmers of sunlight swim across the surface of the water. “Maybe they like us.”

Zelda laughs, more than a little hopelessly. She’s used to divine figures not liking her. “If only.”

Link nudges her lightly. “We saw them. They were there, for us. Maybe the light dragon even is too.“ He cranes his head to gaze up at the sky, tilting his head like he can see through the clouds, then drops back down again and looks at her. “It was nice.”

It’s such an unassuming statement — it was nice, that could be them walking over an uninteresting grassy field or sleeping or something else entirely mundane. But it looks so sincere. And it was nice. It was. The stars and the crisp air and the close hum of energy over the water and Link. It’s the simplest, the easiest, way to describe it. She understands perfectly.

“Yes,” she says, nodding, “yes, it was.”

#i don’t know wtf this is tbh but #happy #zelink week 2023 #i wrote this in a day i have no conception of preparing works for events a month beforehand #but i made it!#dragons #tears of the kingdom #my fic #zelink #might post this on ao3 later but it isn’t up there atm

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dogueteeth · 8 months

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WIP Not-Wednesday

Thanks @silvery-bluish for the tag!

I'll forward this to @wonda-fhr ! As always, not pressure to participate ;) <3

Hmmm let's see what I've got for my WIPs that I can share a bit of!

ACT 1

a Tokyo Ghoul!AU FHR series I started on a little while ago. WIP title for now, I think i like the idea of setting up the story as "acts 1 & 2" for Rebirth & Retri. Here's a lil snippet from it I might publish soon once I get the "scenes/chapters" planned out more. Riding heavy on Tokyo Ghoul's "tragedy" quote for my titles on this WIP lol.

He beams, sunshine and smiles, the thousand-watt smile that melts hearts, melts hers a little too. She can feel the smile grow on her face, feel the way that damnable knot between her shoulders loosens a little still, after all of these years, and shit, that's a complication she doesn't need. Didn't and doesn't, not back then and not right now. His hand lands on her shoulder, friendly and comforting. To anyone else but her.

It feels like a lasso. A leash. A noose. Leading her to the front gates, dragging her to her doom. To the gates. The gates. That.

The gates in the Rangers' HQ that scan for RC cells.

Standard. Necessary. No, not standard. State-of-the-art.

Always the best for the Rangers.

Her pulse grows cold. Is she pallid? What does her face look like? Is it terrified, is the the mask crooked?

Last time. Last time, last time, years ago, the RC scanners were still new tech. Not strong enough the pick up her trace, the trace of a half-ghoul. But that. That was almost ten years ago.

A decade is long enough to make improvements.

stray.

Collection of small segments that talk about both of Isa's escapes from the Farm. Alas I'm still working on this! Just haven't made much progress as of late since my brain is rather fried but here's a little snippet!

The stars are beautiful.

Most places she's been deployed have swallowed their stars. Shot them down, trapped them in little plastic and glass containers, anchored to the earth to light roads and pavements and rooms. Kept like animals poached from the wild. Surrounded by wall and window cages in the comforts of humans' homes to chase away the dark. So many caught, so many brilliant stars brought down by man, leaving the skies above filled with an inky emptiness.

But here, in the Nevada desert where man could not remain, where they couldn't take and claim, not the stars nor the arid land, the night sky celebrates with the splendor of galaxies above her head. She stares into the wonder of purple-pink clouds of cosmic dust and the glittering shine of stars, motionless and quiet. She should be running. She should be taking advantage of the darkness that she had waited so long for, curled into a small ball beneath a pile of road debris to keep hidden in the light of day. She never understood the concept of beauty before; it was a uniquely human perception. Less-thans can't afford to think about such things. But she might understand it now. Just a little.

kiss & tell (it's called: freefall)

Another snippet from a piece of the "freefall" series I'm taping together in my free time! Hehehe so many good moments in this series it's always so hard to pick a snippet without potentially spoiling a part of the series's story.

"That's not the point!" He cries out, tossing his arms in the air and biting back the sting of regret when she flinches in the corner of his eye. Regret, then anger. Anger aimed at himself for regretting that. She does not deserve his sympathies right now.

"I get that you're not sorry. I get that you're going to do it again, even if I don't agree with it, even if I wish you would be sorry. What I want to know is why, Cerrísa. Please." His voice cracks, and he can see the way her face falls at the sound. "Please, explain yourself, Cerrísa. Because I'm running out of ways that I can understand you, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, that you're not just doing this- killing people- for shits and giggles. Please."

He's almost in front of her now, taller and casting a shadow over her but he feels minuscule in front of her, begging for understanding. She refuses to look him in the eye, and he hates that she's chewing on the already-cracked part of her lip, and he tries not to think about how the metallic taste would feel echoed in his own mouth. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and every time it falls shut, he feels a little bit of hope within him die.

#wip not-Wednesday #fhr #sidestep #cerrísa becerra #fhr sidestep #oc #writing wip

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camilbarnessss · 1 year

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¤ The Dance of the Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 1 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

Masterlist [ This is the second season of "The Invitation". In this link you can find the former chapters, which are necessary to read before reading "The Dance of The Dragons" ]

Warnings: constant swearing, family toxicity, secrets and lies, oral sex (male!Targaryen receiving), fingering (fem!Targaryen receiving), angst, non-consensual kissing (?), TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please let me know if you want to be added, kept or erased of the taglist! Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

-Mother...-

-Yes?-

-Could you tell us a story?-

-Which of all stories, my child?-

-...One of ours-

■ ■ ■

As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty came to a close, the health of The Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing...

In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength, with ten adult dragons under its yoke. No power in the world could stand against it...

As the voice narrates, its owner's fingers play lightly between them.

King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperity. But, tragedy had claimed both his sons, leaving his succession in doubt.

They blink, listening to the quiet words.

So, in the year 101, The Old King called a Great Council, to choose an heir. Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal.

Fourteen succession claims were heard, but only two were truly considered.

The voice chuckles lightly, amusedless.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King's eldest descendant.

And her younger cousin, prince Viserys Targaryen, the King's eldest male descendant.

Everyone in Harrenhal stares with eyes wide opened and ears all up, watching and listening cautiously to the voice that raised in the big stone hall.

-It is declared by all lords paramounts, and lords vassal of The Seven Kingdoms...that prince...Viserys Targaryen! be made Prince of Dragonstone!-, and with that, clappings were not held by any present.

Rhaenys, a woman, would not. inherit. the Iron. Throne.

The lords instead chose Viserys...your grandfather...

Jaehaerys called The Great Council to prevent a war being fought over his succession, for he knew the cold truth. The only thing that could tear down The House of The Dragon...

...was itself

■ ■ ■

It is now the twenty-sixth year of King Viserys I Targaryen's reign.

146 years before the death of The Mad King, Aerys, and the birth of his daughter, princess Daenerys Targaryen.

146 years before Daenerys Targaryen.

■ ■ ■

Breeze, wind and clouds.

The breeze goes along the wind, quietly and freely, blowing the clear light clouds that surround the skies of a just-arrived morning. Everything up here is silent, and calm.

That, until a joyful roar is born behind the clouds, and then a golden ray suddenly passes between them along another mighty growl, sharp and loud.

A golden huge beast flaps his wings from up to down with power, flying fastly while reflecting the sun on his multiple bright scales, blinding and mesmerizing any eyes that dared to look at him. Up here, anyways, who is going to see him?

He makes maneuvers in the sky, turning on his own body, mixing the clouds with his tail, breaking the wind with his white horns. The Golden Ray may be more than a hundred years old, may have killed a thousand men and perhaps even burned some villages, but the spirit of a child will never leave his strong soul.

And he let everyone know that when he, at last, came out from the high clouds, meeting a city below him, where some of the people raised their heads before another of his sharp and sing-song roars.

Kalistrox flew above of King's Landing, mighty and majestically, drawing his huge body a little lower so he could be better appreciated by the ones who, well, appreciate him. Children looked up, smiling, amazed by the creature, while others grumbled, annoyed by the power this one holds.

The Golden Ray flapped his wings, flying higher again when begginning to head towards The Dragonpit. He growled while getting closer, narrowing his gold eyes and showing his teeth, almost with disgust. How much he dispites those caves. But, anyways, soon, he arrived.

As he flew above of the building, he could see his sister already being taken to the subterrean. Dreamfyre growled calmly as three dragonkeepers headed her inside, following her with their spears and yelling in the language she most understands. The black she-dragon, willing to rest, went inside the caves with no resistence, for she is used to them.

Moments later, when the arena was already clear, Kalistrox landed over his feet and wings, clenching them to the ground in the middle of an annoyed growl. Everyone from near had to quickly stepped back as much as possible, for he occupies almost the whole area now. He shook his golden long neck, making his scales's reflections to shake in the floor as well. As he took his place, another three dragonkeepers carefully neared to him, slowly.

-Dohāeras, Kalistrox [ Obey, Kalistrox ]-. The older man of them three spoke with cautiousness.

Kalistrox grumbled between his teeth, looking around with fierceness. Then, he felt a weight leaving his back, which made him to turn his head lightly. He saw his dear rider walking down his wing with quick steps, looking back at his golden eyes, and drawing a smile on her lips.

-We have to go home-, Daera Targaryen spoke softly, caressing his neck with her hands as she walked. He purred, lowly, forgetting for a second that they were in Dragonpit-. Kalistrox, eat-, she raised her brows, and he growled again.

-Princess-, one of the dragonkeepers greeted her. The princess finally glanced at them, forming a tiny smile on her lips, almost sour.

-I only brought him to eat-. She stressed, giving a last caress on his neck, and starting to walk away-. Feed my boy well, please. We have a long flight in a few hours-, the princess asked for, raising her brows.

Without one more word, the dragonkeepers noded towards their princess. They raised their spears towards The Golden Ray, who growled with annoyment, drawing his horns back with mistrust. Daera hummed raising her brows, and he purred, surrended, begginning to follow the men's orders.

She kept in her place, seeing how they take him to the caves, hiding him from the sun he so much likes. The princess sighed through her nose, reminding herself it would just be a few hours to take off from King's Landing. That same thought, though, also made her feel dissappointment.

Daera wears her Velaryon blues, wearing a tight dress of leather made just for riding a dragon, while her feet are covered by strong black boots. The princess carries on her fingers two rings made of Valyrian steel, sapphires as it gems. Many think the reason she wears those jewels is becajse they allude to the sea colors. She passed one of her hands on her white mane, caressing her long curls. Something very difficult to tell is that, in between all those wild curls of hers, a strand of straight long white hair is braided to her own, falling imperceptibly on her back.

When Kalistrox went out of her sigh, she sighed through her nose, turning around as she drew a smile on her lips, becaming aware of Ser Harrold Westerling who, on his horse, was looking at her with tiredness and relief.

-Princess-, he greeted.

-Lord Commander-. She answered funnily, glancing at the royal carriage that awaits for her-. I hope you did not bored yourself as we flew-, she says raising her brows.

-Boredom was not an issue, princess-. Harrold said within a sigh, and she chuckled amusedly, which made him to draw a smile as well.

-We didn't plan to last that long, Lord Commander-. A soft and tender third voice spoke. Daera softened her eyes while approaching to the carriage, where Helaena came from, peeking out her head with an innocent face-. We apologize-, she said to Westerling, who instantly shook his head.

-No worries, my princesses-. He spoke politely, gidding up his horse towards the carriage.

-Ay, cousin-. Daera sighed, walking the stairs of the carriage. Helaena giggled, giving her a hand and helping her to come in-. You do not apologize for riding your dragon-, she scoffs.

-You apologize for making people wait-, Helaena answered with a smile, closing the doors of the carriage. Daera clapped, taking seat comfortably.

-Well-, she raised her brows-. Let us not make more people wait then-, her head shook, and her cousin smiled bigger, running to sit at her side.

The carriage left The Dragonpit with four horses and two guards leading their path. The Lord Commander rides right in front of them, guiding and clearing the way for the princesses.

On the insides, the cousins talk with grins on their faces, having a leather bag with them, in wich they were acommodating something, and shaking it constantly.

Two other guards ride behind the carriage, having Targaryen banners flying in the wind as they rode through the streets of King's Landing, on their way to its mighty castle. The Red Keep.

The poor and dirty people from Flea Bottom watches the royal carriage pass between them with their golden decorations and their fine horses. Some look away, not even wanting to see the mighty family, others would gladly stare at them, trying to figure how it must feel to be in it. And others looked at the purple eyes that were also glancing back at them from the inside.

-Here!-, Daera's voice reached all the guards's ear. The horses instantly stopped.

-Gods be good-, Harrold sighed closing his eyes-. Princess-, he turns his head around, planning to say something, but it was already late, as he sees the carriage's doors opening.

The Lord Commander gasps, getting off his horse as well as the bannerman did, instantly guarding the princesses, who came out of the carriage elbow-held, smiley, and carrying a leather bag with them.

Ser Harrold wrinkled his mustache when seeing their expensive shoes stepping on the mud and shit of Flea Bottom. He sighed, holding his sword and looking around at every moment.

The cousin princesses walk together towards a wooden door, which started to be opened at the seconds of hearing the carriage stopping. One of the bannerman walked quickly towards there, carefully watching every move of his princesses, who were most than calm. Helaena stared at the doors with a kind smile, blinkless, while Daera smirked towards some children playing near them, not even minding their prescense.

From outside the old building, an older woman came out, who sighed surprised when seeing the Targaryen princesses right in front of her doors, standing in the mud.

-Hellou!-, Daera sang funnily, raising her brows.

-Princesses!-. She instantly nodes with respect towards them. Helaena curved her brows, shaking her head, not liking the show of inferiority.

-Good morrow, my lady-. The brown-skinned princess greeted, and she smiled to her, having her eyes shining-. I hope it is not too early for a quick delivery-, she says funnily, shaking the leather bag.

-Oh no no, my princess, not at all-. The woman instantly sighs, curving her brows-. Some of the children already are awake, so...it's- it's no problem-, she laughs, almost nervously.

-Why would they be awake at these young hours?-, Helaena asked with a confused expression, tilting her head. The lady sighed, shrugging briefly.

-They are...a little hungry-, she whispered, ashamed. Daera blinked slowly, staring at her with compassion, while Helaena furrowed her lips with pity, blinking and glancing away. They three knew they were not "a little" hungry.

The bannerman with them blinks silently, staring at the princesses from behind his helmet. He then glances at the woman, the one in charge of the Child Shelter this old ugly building is. The one the princesses have been helping for moons.

-Here, my good woman...-Daera whispers quietly, raising the bag on his hands. The lady open her lips, staring at it with a growing smile-. Enough dragons to buy the food for the next moon, we think-. She informs.

-Gods be good-, the woman sighs, blinking multiple times. Helaena grabs the bag, holding it softly with her delicate white fingers.

-...Bread, and cheese-. The dearest said, handing it to her-. Some apples too, for their lunches-, she smiles, blinking.

-And some sweets of honey as well-, Daera raised her brows, giving a soft caress on the woman's arm-. We know you love them too-, she winked an eye.

As she slowly took the bag, the lady laughed closing her eyes. Her chuckles were broken, filled with relief. She hugged the bag to her chest, while Helaena and Daera smiled softly at her.

The royal guards constantly glance at the princesses, hearing their tender words and watching their kind doings. Helaena is the sweetest, speaking quietly and blinking dearly. And princess Daera...the more she stays in The Red Keep, the more they are captivated by her unique persona. She just has so much to offer, they don't even know where to begin. Perhaps her beauty.

There were quite of some common men walking around while staring at the princesses. A lot of pervert eyes were over them from all places, desiring to get closer to those two mesmerizing dragons, but they were all harshly stopped by the guards and the Lord Commander, neither of them stopping themselves from pushing the commonfolks away so they wouldn't take a step closer to both Targaryen treasures.

-Thank you, thank you!-. The lady thanks endlessly as the princesses walk away from her, smiling.

-Go give them breakfast, woman!-. Daera laughs funnily, holding her cousin's elbows.

-We'll see you soon-. Helaena smiles, waving a hand on the air.

-Done, princesses?-. Ser Harrold asks as they walk back to the carriage.

-Yes-, Helaena nods.

-Ehh, almost!-. Daera giggles, suddenly walking away from them, and heading somewhere else. Harrold gasped, following her instantly, while the other guards saw Helaena, who was laughing, inside of the carriage.

-Princess!-, the Lord Commander calls.

-Oh come on, Harrold, I literally just took three steps!-. Daera huffs rolling her eyes, and then she smiles bigly when her gace connected with the one of a child who was selling fruits in the middle of the street-. Well, with what I will break my fast? I wonder-, she sighs with fake curiosity.

When seeing the princess approaching to him, the boy raised his brows and instantly stood straight, firmly holding his little fruit basquet. Daera scrunched her nose and laughed, bending her legs in front of him, reaching his height.

-Ah...-. The princess, interested, looks at his merchancy. All the fruit is poorly washed, probably not even washed at all, and, by some tiny wholes in them, she can tell they have worms. The people of Flea Bottom cannot eat this, she thinks. Daera scratched her superior lip with her inferior teeth, sighing slowly-. I think I will take all-, she shrugged.

Ser Harrold, standing behind her, glances around with cautiousness, though he allowed himself to draw a small smirk when hearing the boy's surprised gasp.

-All?-, he sttutered, shaking his head, and she noded with hers, smiling-. That'd be...one, two, three, four...-he whispers as he counts the fruit. Daera chuckled loudly, wrinkling her eyes and looking up at Harrold for a second-. Thirty five dragons-, the boy muttered, shocked.

-Uff, a little out of my pocket-. The princess made a face, wrinkling her lips as she reaches her little bag-. Oh well, here goes nothing-. She sighed, handing him all the coins he asked for.

As the coins fell on his hand, the boy didn't blink, mouth-opened.

-Ser Harrold, please take this to our carriage-. Daera stood up, grabbing the basquet. She found the insecure face of the Lord Commander, who wonders if she is really going to eat that-. Our horses will eat it, come on-. She whispered within a huff.

Harrold pressed his lips and noded, making a sign to one of his guards, who stepped front and grabbed the fruit, taking it to the carriage where Helaena calmly awaits. Daera smiles towards the kid, who looked up at her with a giant smile after counting the coins.

-There are fifty dragons in here!-, he pointed, exaltated.

-Op, hurry up then, before I realize it-. The princess gasped, raising her brows. The kid laughed, breathless, and didn't wait another second to shot out running from there.

Daera showed her teeth while laughing, giving light claps, and hoping the kid had gone with his family, or friend, or by himself. She just hoped he'd have a couple of good meals with that.

-You have made princess Helaena very known among the people, and yourself as well-. The Lord Commander spoke behind her, sincere-. You are very kind, princess-. He said, softly. Daera sided a tiny smile, turning to look at him.

-Am I?-, she whispers, looking around calmly.

-The people don't call you the Dragon's Goodness just because, my lady-. He chuckles proudly, raising his brows. Daera smirks briefly, shaking her head.

-Or perhaps we are too used to not care about them-, she murmured, shrugging lightly. Harrold sighed through his nose, somewhat ashamed, and agreed with a silent nod.

-We better return already-. He said.

She sighed, about to agree, but then something catches her eyes again. She narrows them, curious.

-Huh, interesting-. The princess mumbles and, again, begins to go down her own path. Not surprised anymore, Harrold sighed, following her, and pointing the carriage to do so as well.

Ser Erryk, with his long hair falling over his shiny armour, looks around endlessly with despair and stress, constantly talking and mumbling unintelligible words.

-Ser!-. A voice calls him, which made him to look, still annoyed. But when seeing it was princess Daera the one approaching, he instantly fixed his posture and loose his angry factions, hiding them-. How are we doing?-, she smiles, almost burlesque.

-Princess-, he greets her, glancing quickly at the Lord Commander, who stood alongside the carriage, some steps away-. Good morrow-, he says, pretending to be calm, but still looking around.

-A good one, indeed-. The princess sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Lazy, she also looks around, making a pout with her lips-. Let me guess, you can't find the cunt-, she raises her brows, funny.

Ser Erryk gave a light start, stopping his obvious search. Slowly, he turned his head to glance at the princess. Her eyes stared at his with tranquility and amusement, blinking calmly. He clenches his jaw, giving her a silent answer.

-Hump in our carriage and join us to the castle, Ser-. The princess invites him, shrugging. The knight instantly shake his head, looking away-. Let him have his fun, it's his problem-, she whispered funnily, opening her eyes big.

Helaena had opened one of the windows of the carriage, and now she rests her elbows in there, having her chin placed on them and blinking calmly as she sees her cousin mumbling with a knight of The Kingsguard.

-You should go home, princess, and I will find my prince-. Errys said, serious, avoiding her gace again. He hears her huff.

-Alright, I'll ask you twice-. The princess sighed rolling her eyes.

The knight and the princess turned their heads when they heard a sudden rampage. The door of a business its opened and, from there, Aegon is harshly pushed outside. The prince roared as he fell on the floor, covered with his own vomit, and now with the shit of the city.

-ARHG! HOW DARE YOU?!-, Aegon grunts-. Do- do you know who I am?!-, he yells, drunk to the core.

When seeing him, Helaena's expression changed completely. Her lips trembled and her eyes dyed with disgust, backing away from the window. After a whimper, she closed it with quickness, not wanting to see her husband's horrendous face.

Daera opened her lips slowly, looking at that gross man, that ugly and pathetic creature whimpering in the shit. She shook her head, bemused, ashamed of sharing blood with that disgrace of a human.

-Gods be good-, Ser Harrold whispered with his nose wrinkled-. Ser Erryk, attend your prince!-, he instantly commanded.

Erryk gulped, turning to look at princess Daera once again. She stills smiles to him.

-Last chance-, she whispered, pointing to the carriage.

The knight blinked, and then he gulped again and looked away from her eyes, quickly running towards the prince he is swore to protect. Daera sighed, turning around with disgust and disappointment.

Soon, she entered the carriage again, something Ser Harrold thanked to all of The Seven. All the guards returned to their places and, at last, they continued their path towards the castle.

After entering, Daera noticed Helaena's sour expression and her downcast look. She is aware of the change of emotions her cousin has when returning to home after a flight, after feeling so free and loose. Perhaps that is why she rarely rides Dreamfyre, to not feel this downgrade of feelings afterwards.

Daera sighed, getting closer to her, and offering her an open hand. Helaena looked at it. She started to smile slowly, reminding herself that at least she is not alone when being at home. She has her cousin, her brother, and her children.

The dearest took her hand, intertwining their fingers tenderly.

■ ■ ■

In The Red Keep, the morning is just starting to accentuate. The sky is already clear, but the sun does not shines too hot yet. The breeze within the wind is cold and sharp, making the servants to shiver as they are already doing a thousand tasks in the castle.

Prince Aemond is already awake as well, only that he woke up by his own terms, had a comfortable bath with hot water, and has his leather clothes to keep himself warm, so he knows nothing about the silent struggles of the servants, and does not care much either, to be honest.

The One-Eyed Prince walks by himself through one of the hallways, constantly humming as he looks around, apparently searching for something, or someone. His usual black clothes are perfectly combined by the black leather of his fancy patch, with its silver buttons lining perfectly on it. As he walks, his long mane bounces on his back with a slow rythym. Most of the people, when seeing him coming, look away, and that's a reason itself of why nobody truly notices the long strand of curly hair he has braided to his own, right behind his neck, hided. It's beautiful, the delicate braided of his straight hair with the curly dreadlock.

Aemond tsked, furrowing his lips. Seconds later, he encounter with one of the Cargyll twins walking in the same hallway as him. He called the first name that came to his mind.

-Ser Erryk-, he names firmly, stopping his walk. The knight instantly headed towards him, stepping steady.

-It's Ser Arryk, my prince, if it pleases you-. He corrected him politely. Aemond tsked briefly, for he has never been able to tell them apart.

-My apologies, Ser-. He tilts his head to a side, and the knight nods-. Perhaps you may know where my siblings are. I have been looking for them with no achievement-, he speaks serene.

-I'm afraid I don't know, my prince-. Arryk answered, shaking his head. Aemond sighed through his nose, staring right at his eyes at every moment.

-And about my cousin, do you know something?-. He asks with seriousness, almlst coldly when mentioning her.

-I apologize, I just started my watch so I can not say-. Arryk shakes his head too. He sees the prince furrowing his lips. Aemond wonders if he is the only Targaryen at the fucking castle at the moment. His father doesn't count-. I can call a search party for them, if that is what you wish-, he proposed.

-No-, Aemond denied. As long as he can avoid unnecessary attention to his family, he will-. I will find them, Ser, you may return to your duties-. He allowed, looking away from him.

Ser Erryk nods and quietly keeps walking through the hall, making his armour to clink. Aemond stood still, sighing through his nose, and thinking for a few moments. Until the sound of the gates opening reached his ears, along horseshoes galloping and guards talking.

Aemond quickly runs towards the closest balcony, placing his hands in there and instantly looking down, curious. He sees a royal carriage just arriving to the castle, leaded by the Lord Commander, who always joins the prince and princesses of the realm when they go out. That instantly made him know who were in the carriage.

He draws a huge smile on his face, gives a quick clap on the balcony's railing, and then fastly walks away from there.

The gates are closed, and the carriage doors opened by the bannermen. The princesses instantly walk out of it, holding hands and giggling as they talk about what they will have for breakfast.

-Eggs, yes, I'll definetely have eggs-. Daera nods raising her brows.

-Ohh, I remember how much I hated eggs during my pregnancy-, Helaena sighed with a tired smile.

-Yeah cuz, I also remember, you ate none of the breakfast I used to order for you-. Her cousin huffs rolling her eyes.

Helaena laughs funnily, but her chuckles stopped, being replaced by a growing grin when she saw her brother walking out of the castle from one monent to another. The brother she is fond of, to be clear, not the other crap.

-Sister-, the one-eyed prince calls with reproachment.

-Brother, good morrow-. The sweetest nods, quickly glancing to her cousin sideways.

When Daera saw him, she faded her smile and tsked her tongue, not looking at him for more than two seconds. The bannermen, while taking their helmets off, stared at her in silence, discreetly watching her from head to toe.

-How many times we'll talk about this madness, Helaena?-. Aemond repproachs, walking right past his cousin, not even glancing at her-. The city is dangerous-, he raised his brows, standing in front of her.

-We were with the guards-, she answers simply, shrugging.

-Hmm, sure you were-. The one-eyed blinks, burlesque. The guards leaving glanced at him sideways, obviously keeping silent.

-You forget yourself, cousin, Helaena and I are both older sisters-. Princess Daera spoke burlesque, staring front as the breeze blew her hair. She smiles towards the guards, while the prince blinked strongly, lifting his chin-. We know better-, she taunts.

-And you forget that you don't live in here, cousin-. Aemond turns around and crosses his hands behind his back, also burlesque. The princess turns her head to look at him, serious.

-Worry not-, she bops her head to a side-. I'll be leaving in no time-, she muttered.

When she said that, Aemond closed his lips, slowly, staring right at her eyes. His only eye glittered with sadness, so quickly. Having noticed that, Daera bit her cheeks from inside, sucking them, and looking at him in silence. Helaena blinked glancing at both of them, and then she gulped, playing with her fingers.

-It is too early for quarrels-, Helaena says, raising her brows briefly. Her brother and cousin stopped looking at each other, quickly hardening their expressions again.

-Or perhaps too early to wander about, princess-. A fourth voice made them all to look, finding The Hand of The King coming out of the castle with his characteristic face of knowing it all.

-Ugh-, Daera huffed, not hiding her disgust when seeing him. Otto glanced at her as she started walking-. I will break my fast by myself, cousin-. She informed to the other princess, who pressed her lips and noded, silently.

-Princess...-Otto greeted Daera with a light nod. Halting her steps at his side, she looks at him for three silent seconds, having her lips furrowed.

His breathing smells like fucking horse shit, she thought.

Daera hummed, aparting her gace of him and keeping her walk. Soon, she entered The Red Keep and left them in the patio. Aemond sighed through his nose, starting to walk, which Helaena did as well. Their grandfather stared at them as they approach.

-The little princes are hungry-, Otto informed, turning around, and walking with them.

-Uhum-, Helaena nods, having her lips pressed and her fingers over her belly.

-I shall join you to your chambers-, Aemond speaks, looking front-. I wish to see my nephews-, he mumbles, and his sister noded again.

As grandfather and grandchildren walk through the hallways, he hummed lowly, giving a soft blink.

-Your cousin's presence always seems to...agitate The Keep's serenity at early hours-. Otto comments, pretending to be polite. Helaena furrowed her lips.

-At all hours, I'd say-. Aemond mumbled.

-We went to fly, grandpa-. She pointed.

-Ah...-, Otto sighs.

-Having her in our home ten days a moon has not been a grateful experience-. The one-eyed says with a soft harshness, if that makes sense-. It didn't since the first time time-, he muttered. Otto drew a tiny smile on his lips, glancing at him.

-Daera is sworn as my children's godsmother-, Helaena said with her cheeks sort of red, staring front as she talks and walks-. She has the same right to see them, as does their godsfather-, she raised her brows, looking at the named godsfather. Him.

-A nonsense-, the one-eyed huffed.

Otto chuckled in a low voice. Soon, they arrived to princess Helaena's bedroom. Guarding its doors, Ser Criston stand firmly and steady, seeing them approach with a light expression on his face. He thanked the gods princess Daera was not with them.

-My lord Hand, my princes-, he greeted, and they three noded with politeness and tiny smiles.

-Good morrow, Criston-. Helaena smiled at him.

Cole gave her a smirk as well, grabbing the door's handles and opening it for them. Instantly, the soft voice of a woman reached their ears from inside the room. Helaena blinked, being the first one to walk in, being followed by her grandpa.

-Cole-, Aemond nods towards him.

-My prince-. Criston nods as well-. Will I be seeing you in the training field today?-, he asks, absolutely knowing the answer.

-As always-, the prince smirked, walking inside the room. The knight smiled, following behind him and closing the doors again, now being with the family in the princess's chamber.

Queen Alicent is standing in front of two cradles alongside the bed. She is leaning front, with a thin opened book on his hands, reading it with the softest voice in existence.

-Then, the frog wandered around the foreign swamp for hours and hours, not finding the comfort of his own home...-, she reads the tale with tenderness. On her, she has two pair of beautiful purple eyes, for her grandchildren are listening carefully, even though they do not understand a word.

Criston stayed near the door, looking at his Queen with deepness and concentration. Otto stood close to him, while Aemond and Helaena walked closer to their mother. The one-eyed stared at her with a quiet smile, hearing her tender reading. The children's mother tilted her head, chewing a tiny smirk.

Alicent opened her lips, turning her head around. She sighed when seeing her daughter, closing the book with slowness.

-Helaena-, she sighed-. Where were you? Your children must eat-, The Queen walks to her, planning on touching her arms.

-I am aware-, Helaena instantly flinches, moving away from her touch. Aemond blinks slowly, seeing his mother gulping with shame, pretending that nothing happened-. They shall eat...-she whispers softly, heading to the craddles with light steps, begginning to smile.

-Princess Helaena apparently went flying with her cousin, the princess Daera-. Otto informed with a hoarse voice. Criston huffed, closing his eyes, while Alicent furrowed her brows.

-That early, Helaena?-. The Queen instantly repproached. Helaena sighed through her nose, not looking at any of them, for she just watches Jaehaerys and Jaehaera-. Do you now how dangerous the path to the Dragonpit is at those hours?-, she asked agitated, making her long red curls to bounce.

-Princess Daera convinced her, it is obvious-. Criston says firmly. Aemond wrinkles his lips, turning around and heading to the balcony with pretend disinterest.

-That girl can ride her beast at any time she desires to, but you do not-. Alicent raised her brows towards Helaena, even though she is not looking at her. The dearest tsked under her breath, desiring for silence-. If your cousin tells you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?-, she asks burlesque.

-I wish to be alone to feed the children, please-, Helaena quickly spoke, suddenly turning around. Alicent shushed, gulping. Otto didn't hear the order twice, heading to the door-. My kids's godsfather can stay-, she nods to a side.

From the balcony, receiving the breeze, Aemond does not move an inch. Alicent closed her lips, crossing her hands over her belly with seriousness.

-The day is quite busy, indeed, The Hand and I have many matters to attend to-. The redhead nods, and her daughter does too, facing her kids again-. I will return tonight, so my grandchildren and I may finish our tale-, she dictated, walking to the door.

-You may-, Helaena whispered.

The Hand, The Queen and her Sworn Protector walk outside the chambers, closing the doors behind them. As the babes babbles, Helaena turns her head towards the balcony, where Aemond came from with slow steps, also staring at her.

The princess starts to smile.

-Fuck!-. Daera grunts.

A wall of the room suddenly turns into a door when it is opened, and from behind it, their cousin arrive, sighing with stress and laziness.

-Gods! Does these things ever get lighter?-, she complained, huffing. Aemond rolled his eye, walking towards there with quick steps while Helaena giggled funnily-. Fuck, now to close it again-, she mumbled, facing the wall.

-Let me-, Aemond quickly stepped front, closing the wall for her. Daera bit her lips and played with a strand of her hair, looking at him from feet to toe.

-What a gentleman...-she purred.

-Don't look at me like that, love-. He grunts as he pushes the door.

-Yes, don't look at him like that-. Helaena joked as she carried the twins off the cradles.

-What? Isn't one allowed to look at one's husband?-, Daera scoffs, fakely offended. Aemond grunts and laughs, turning his head to look at her.

-Oh you may, please, I beg you-. Aemond mumbles-. But not in the presence of children-, he grumbled, all flirty, leaning towards her. Daera purred funnily, wanting to grab his face and pull him closer.

-Please don't-, Helaena sighed.

-Please do-, he winked an eye to her, who laughed from deep her throat, walking away from him.

-I shall ressist-, the princess said funnily. She, then, smiles tenderly, seeing Helaena now carrying the twins in her arms, sitting on a chair-. Who snored all night? Yes, you did!-, she squeals, pinching Jaehaera's cheeks. Helaena laughed vividly as well as her daughter did.

-Is she still snoring?-, Aemond asked with disbelief, walking towards the door of the room, and locking it.

-We got to accept it, Jaehaera is a girl who snores-. Helaena sighs amused, rocking her babes tenderly.

-Hmm, I know someone like that-. The one eyed mumbles burlesque, staring at his wife, who instantly huffed.

-I don't snore, I breath just as you! Get over it-, she grunted rolling her eyes.

-Right-, he raised his brows-. Helaena, I will get the babes bottles ready, where are they?-. He asks, looking around the room.

-No need to, I will feed them myself-. The mother said with a calm expression. They looked repproachfuly at her-. It is healthiest-, she insisted.

-The twins are just a few moons away from turning a year, they are big enough to get used to bottles-. Aemond pointed, shaking his head.

-Not yet-, Helaena quickly denies. Daera laughed funnily, caressing Jaehaerys hair-. You'll understand it if you ever have children-, she said to her.

Daera's eyes shined when hearing the idea. She blinked a few times, staring up at Aemond, who looked back at her with his cheeks sucked to the inside, forming a slow smile.

-Mama-, Jaehaerys babbled, moving a hand.

-Yes-, Helaena scrunched her nose, smiling.

-Say Aemond-, Aemond asked, leaning front-. Say Aemond, the two of you, come on-. He smiles with hope.

The babes stare blankly at him.

-Let it go, dear-. Daera sighed caressing his back. He tsked, standing straight again.

-While I feed the children, you two should go have breakfast too-, Helaena speaks, raising her brows. Her brother draws a tiny smile, glancing sideways to his wife-. You'll leave within a few hours, cousin, and you shall not leave starving-, she says.

-Kind of you to remind us, sister-. The one-eyed sighs, obviously disgusted by the fact of her soon leaving. Daera smiled softly at him.

-Go open the door while I help Helaena, love, please-. She gives a soft caress on his arm.

He humms, turning around and walking towards the hidden door. Daera leaned front, begginning to carefully take off Helaena's dress from her chest, making off the threads. As she does that, Helaena watches her brother opening the wall, as she has been seeing since not so long ago.

-Are you ready to eat, huh?-. Daera speaks to the kids, tenderly, taking Helaena's breasts out with a light touch-. Yess, milk-. She whispers funnily.

-Those secret passageways...-the dearest whispers, seeing the open wall, where Aemond already went out from-. They are a blessing, as much as they are a curse, do you not think?-, she wonders within a low mutter, staring right at them.

-Hmm?-, Daera looks up at her eyes, listening.

-They can mean a salvation as well as they can mean a threat's best pathway-, the princess talks reflexive, and slowly. Her cousin blinks thoughtful, caressing her naked shoulders-. It it just...matter of luck, I think-, she narrowed her eyes.

-It is not-. Daera shook her head-. Our ancestor, Maegor, knew what he was doing, I assure you-. She raised her brows-. That is why only we know about them...and it will stay that way-, the princess dictated.

Helaena blinks and looks back at her, finding comfort and confidence on her cousin's eyes. That made her to smile lightly, closing her lips and nodding innocently, agreeing.

-Alright, I'll see you later-. Daera smiles, and then she places a quick kiss on one of her naked breasts, making her to flinch-. Farewell!-, she says funny, walking away.

-Daera!-, Helaena laughs loudly, turning all red.

Daera chuckled running outside the room. Resting his back on the wall, Aemond turned to look at her and smiled cockily, narrowing his eye. She bit her lips and neared to him, pushing the door back in.

-Hungry?-, he mumbles.

-Quite-, she raises her brows.

Aemond smiles, holding her hand and starting to walk. Daera hugged to his arm while laughing, placing a kiss on it as they walked in the hidden passageways, mumbling and giggling between them.

■ ■ ■

Another secret door is opened, and this one gave them pass to Aemond's chambers, which they entered to in the middle of sighs and laughs, ending the talk they were having before.

-Home sweet home-, she taunts funnily, combing her hair with her fingers.

-Huh-, Aemond huffs, closing the door back again, checking twice if it was well closed-. It's the most of a home I can give you, for now-. He sighed. She tsked, turning to look at him.

-Home is wherever you are, silly-. The princess reproached, raising her hands to caress his elbows briefly. Aemond smiles, turning to look at her with a soft gace-. We also have an island, did you forget?-, she narrows her eyes.

-I almost did-, he noded, fully sarcastic. She showed him all of her teeth, laughing burlesque-. So...you're hungry, you told me-. The prince mumbles, taking her shoulders and making her to turn around slowly.

Daera presses a smile on her lips when she sees two breakfast served on his table, warmly awaiting for them. The breakfast that he always makes for her the day she has to leave King's Landing. The princess giggles, feeling how he started to push her softly.

-Ouhh, my love!-. She grunts excited, clapping as he pulls her chair for her-. Orange slices?!-, she shouts surprised, pointing at the table.

-Only the best for my Daera-, he whispered funnily, placing a kiss on one of her cheeks. Daera huffed and shivered, punching his chest funnily.

-Don't say "my Daera", I've told you, it's so stupid-. She giggled like a teenager, feeling her cheeks burning.

Aemond closed his eyes and laughed as he received a thousand kisses on his ear from his wife's lips. Then, this one sits. Blushed, he stills giggles, pushing her chair with his knee.

-So, did I tell you?-. He asks, walking to his chair as he takes his patch off with calmness-. I have been asking Criston, in the trainings, to attack me with all of his strength-, he commented.

-Is that so?!-, she raised her brows, pinching the food with her fork-. Fuck, love, he has been to war-. Her brows curved, and her mouth laughed.

-I have been doing perfectly, wife, you do not worry-. Aemond shook his head, smiling as he takes one of the orange slices. She smiles, nodding funnily.

-Alright-, she says with her mouth full-. I also wish to do that, in our trainings in the island-. Daera suggests, narrowing her eyes. He faded his smile, and even his sapphire stopped shining-. You punch me as hard as you can, oy?-, she smirks.

-Over my fucking dead body-, Aemond answered, making her to instantly laugh. He rolls his eye, also forming a smile-. How was your fly? I apologize, I didn't ask before-. He says, tilting his head.

-Do not apologize-, she giggled, chewing-. It was lovely, as always. I just love flying with Helaena, she looks so happy-. Daera sighs curving her brows. Her husband smiled tenderly, chewing slowly-. And Dreamfyre and Kalistrox, they are siblings, they love sharing the clouds-, she added, laughing.

-Hmm-, Aemond smirks-. A shame my brother doesn't give his dragon the same freedom to fly along his siblings-, he sighed, thinking about Aegon.

-Please-, Daera mumbled, rolling her eyes-. The most beautiful dragon in the world, many say, mount of that wastrel-, she huffed, bemused. The one-eyed agreed in silent nods, looking at his plate-. Sunfyre...-, she sighed.

-A beauty-, he agrees-. And, speaking about my brother. It appears he didn't sleep here last night. Helaena and you, perhaps saw him...-, he tilts his head, curious.

-Yes, we saw him-. His wife answered-. Bathed with his own puke, drunk in Flea Bottom-, she scoffs, smiling. Aemond pressed his lips and closed his eye, ashamed-. Having Ser Erryk as his servant, not as his protector-, she complained.

-Gods-, the one-eyed sighed, looking away. Daera chewed slowly, beginning to shake her head.

-All that, and yet your mother dares to defend his "right"-, she mumbled, highly burlesque.

-Daera-, Aemond stared at her again.

-My balls have more right-, the princess huffed.

-No politics in the table, love-. He quickly shushed her, serious. Daera bit her lips, looking at him, blankly, and then huffed with her nose.

-Of course-, she mumbled with a sarcastic tiny smile, lowering her gace to the plate, eating from it. Aemond kept on chewing, sighing and shaking his head in silence-. Kalistrox is also having breakfast, by the way-. She commented.

-Did Vhagar leave him something?-, he curves his brows as he asks, moving the fork on his plate.

-No, she didn't-. Daera denies, remembering all the cows and goats's burned skeletons she saw on the bay when they arrived, Vhagar sleeping among them-. That's why I took him to The Dragonpit to eat-, she sighed, raising her brows.

-Hmm, he hates it-. Aemonnd pointed within a low murmur, playing with his food.

-Yes, he does, and he is growing too big for it, I fear....-. Daera wrinkled her lips, feeling pity for her boy-. As soon as we are done with breakfast I'll go for him, and...we'll leave-, she informed, keeping a calm face.

Aemond clenched his jaw, tightening the hold on his fork. He blinks slowly, staring deeply at his food, no longer with appetite.

-I don't wish to arrive too late-, she shrugged.

-Ah-, Aemond smiles. She looks up at him with curiosity, silent-. Dare I guess that you don't want to keep your...husband waiting, do you?-, he asks, bobbing his head.

-Aemond-, she instantly huffs, creating a burlesque smirk. The one-eyed gulps, shaking his head.

-That whore can't live without you-, he sing-songs his words, leaving his plate to a side.

-You, whore, can't live without me-. Daera corrected with a burlesque tone and a cocky smile. Aemond opens his eye big, firmly staring at her-. And I, another whore, cannot live without you either-, she mumbled, slowly standing up from her chair.

-Hum-, he looks away, to the balcony, pressing his lips-. You should remain here, in your true husband's castle, not in that of a...-, he cuts his own words when he hears a really, really, really familiar sound.

A button being unbuttoned.

He instantly turned his head. Daera gives him a fake smile, as she unbuttons her dress from the front, one by one. He gulps, clenching his hands on the chair's arm.

-What are you doing?-, he scoffs, glancing away only for a second. He looks at her again, seeing how her breasts were starting to show-. Daera-, he grumbles.

-Bold of you to think I will leave without getting mine-, she mumbles, burlesque, taking her tits out. The one-eyed clenched his teeth, instantly feeling his pants tightening-. Your poor wife, always having to remind you who she really belongs to-, the princess taunts, tilting her head, and begginning to pull her dress down.

-Gods be good-, Aemond started to open his long legs, slowly-. I...I'm expected in the training patio-, he mumbled with his last straw of duty, feeling how lust is quickly overpowering it.

-I care little, husband-, Daera shugged, taking off her dress completely. She caressed the leather belt wrapped on her left thigh, so close to her ass. Aemond growled, smirking at last-. Did you hear that?-, she narrowed her eyes, slowly bending on her knees-. Husband-, she stressed, placing her hands on the floor.

-Daera-, he mumbled, watching her every move.

Daera crawls on her knees and hands, staring right at his eye and his sapphire. Aemond hummed longly, shaking, for the goddess crawling to him is already driving him insane just by her mere nakedness. Her majestic, alluring and maddening nakedness.

-Oh...-, his throat purred.

-Do do wish to train, then?-. She babbled, burlesque, every time closer to him.

Aemond growled, burlesque as well, for she obviously knows he no longer wants yo train, if he ever did.

-You know what I wish, wife-. He grunted, almost mad because of her sudden seduction. The princess laughed, placing her hands on his pants's lap, grabbing it. When he felt the grasp on his cock, he moaned and flinched on his chair, grabbing its arms tightly.

-You knew you weren't going to train after breaking fast-, Daera mumbles, starting to make his threads off. Aemond closed his eye with a smile on his lips, leaving himself all to her-. You know I never leave without giving my husband a proper farewell-, she taunted, feeling the sun touching her naked skin.

The prince chuckled, answering her. He raised his hands, placing them in her hair and careesing it slowly. Daera tilted her head to a side, kneeling more closer to the chair, and feeling how his cock grows every time harder below his leather pants. As she started to take them off, Aemond's breathing accelerated, and he bit his lips.

-Do me, wife-. He whispered with a string of voice-. I want this to be our last encounter, until the next one-, the prince mumbles, looking down at her while caressing her hair. She looked up at him, silent, pulling his pants down slowly.

Then, his cock finally showed up. It came up as soon as the fabric left it. Daera tsked, curving her brows. It does not matter how many times she has saw it, she just doesn't get tired of doing so, and neither of having it on her mouth. Aemond hummed softly, losing his fingers on her mane, and pushing her head closer. She sighed before this, feeling his despair.

-...I beg you-, her husband whispered.

-You know the rules-, she mumbled, licking her lips-. No noise-, she said.

He hummed shakily as his response. Daera lowered her eyes to the cock again, watching it pulsing, feeling its heat. Aemond raised his eyebrows slightly, attentive to her movements.

She licked her lips, and then parted them, beginning to tilt her head forward. She pulled her tongue out of her mouth, and ran it over the tip of his member with a slow pace. He closed his eye within a strong sigh, pressing his lips when feeling that.

-Fuck-, he whimpered.

Having heard his low moan, the princess smiled. She brought her face even closer, passing her tongue again, now leaving it for longer, and making small circles in the very tip. He loves that so very much, and it is obvious because of how he gasped into a growl, with his throat aching.

Daera smiles mischievously, excited, and shrugs her shoulders, amused. Come on, its to easy.

With a great security covering her, Daera kept her tongue from her, and opened her mouth widely, beginning to hide Aemond's member with it. She moaned lowly with her eyes closed, going beyond the tip, fitting her lips there, and sucking his cock with her cheeks.

She didn't hear anything from Aemond, but it was because he went mute by lust, with his mouth wide open and his eye tightly closed, taking a long deep breath and being covered by an insame pleasure thanks to the mouth of the purple-eyed on his dick. He will never get tired of her lips, her deep sucking. Aemond always becames a madman when his dear wife sucks his cock.

Daera hummed, and went further, thus reaching the middle of his member. She began to move her head from front to back, increasing her speed little by little, used to the feeling of that tension inside her mouth. She placed her hands on his hips, hugging them and nailing her ten nails in them.

Aemond shivered as he bit his lips, holding all of his moans, wich were actually screams. The white-haired princess does it just perfectly. She brings waves of pure pleasure to hit him every second, with her lips, with her throat, without seeming to want to stop.

-Seven hells-. He moaned with a frown, feeling how tongue and lips wrapped almost all of his member with total lust-. My Daera-, he sighs, placing his hands at the sides of her head, following her moves-. You are doing it so good, ow...-he cried.

She closed her eyes, tasting his salty flavour, already tasting his precum as well. Daera jumps slightly on her own knees, humming and gasping, caressing his naked thighs. Aemond bit his lips and grabbed her head tighter, even though he didn't want to hurt her, but he just wanted to feel her even more. Honestly, that made her laugh, for she loves when he gets this hungry and needy, desiring the littlest touch. She loves the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her mouth, so hard yet so fragile, listening to him sobbing out of delight.

She sucked it, licked it, kissed it and savored it with great pleasure, sometimes taking it out and others going back in, spitting on it from time to time, and reintroducing it between her lips. Everytime she spits he flinches on the chair, literally jumping and drawing a sudden smiles. Fuck, her saliva boils against his skin. And dragons do love fire.

-Daera-, his voice trembled. He grunted, grabbing in one hand all of her hair, taking it out off the way and also guiding her movements with soft pulls and pushes.the other hand he put it behind his head, resting on the chair's back-. My lady-, he moans.

The pleasure is not only his, for she is equally at the top, groaning and growling as low as possible between laughs while she eats her husband in an amazing oral sex. Sometimes she even wants to chew on his member. But no, that would hurt him.

Her naked cunt is wetting with quickness, with every of his constant hums and husky sounds. He is a piece of art himself, isn't he? Huh, not to even mention the beauty he has kneeled in front of him, hurting her knees just to be giving him this much pleassure and the best of farewells. Isn't his wife an unique delight?

So, here they are, the Targaryen princes who so much hate each other. The servants know it, the guards know it, the realms know it. That rumour from the past about The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess being lovers are nothing but a forgotten memory to everybody. Everyone knows the generational conflict between their families, how could they ever be together? She is too much of a woman for him, some say. He is too serious for her, others mumble. One thing is true: Aemond and Daera Targaryen are not fond of each other. Meaning that...they have been lying perfectly.

-Fuck!-, Aemond flinches on the chair again, grabbing her hair tighter-. I'm cumming, dear, oh fucking hells-. He breathed with no control, clenching his teeth.

Daera groaned, breathless, moving her head faster and sucking deeper with her cheeks, which were already tired, but nevertheless, she continued. She would lick his tip and suck the cock completely. Aemond grunted closing his eye strongly, and showing his teeth when he clenched them harshly, feeling his soul burning inside of his body.

-Daera, Daera. Gods, Daera!-. He blesses and cursed her name countless of times, as he always does as he becomes insane. Aemond sobbs with a smile, throwing his head back from a moment to another-. Fuck, I...!-, his voice became a breath.

His cock finally exploded, as so did his heart, full of pleasure. His cum came out so quickly, and it all ended up at Daera's mouth. She growled as she took it all, keeping it on her cheeks. She hears him sobbing, mumbling and laughing, sometimes thinly sometimes hoarsely, everything while caressing her hair with his sweaty hands.

-Oh, my goddess...-Aemond babbled, slowly looking back at her. He found her intense eyes on him. She has her cheeks full of his cum, and he moaned when realizing it-. Swallow it...-he mumbles, twirling his fingers on her hair.

Daera blinked, placing her closed lips on his tip again, and she began to open them, really slowly. His cum spilled out of her mouth and began to trickle right over where it came from, slowly dripping all over his cock. Aemond opened his mouth and growled as seeing the pale drops running down his dick, almost artistically. He shook his head, bemused.

After taking a breath in, she leaned front and licked all of the drops back into her mouth, now definetely swallowing them with no shame. She giggled, proud of herseld. The one-eyed laughed as well, breathless, fiding her alluring.

-Oh, my girl...-he sighed, caressing her wild mane. Daera looked up at him, licking the left drops on her lips. He bit his for a brief second-. My only girl-, Aemond whispers, mesmerized.

-I better be-, she groaned, and he laughed, making his cheeks even reder-. And, just so you know...-she leaned front again, whispering almost right over his tired cock. He blinked, staring deeply at her-. I won't be doing any of this with "my husband", when I arrive home-, Daera murmured, burlesque and cockily.

Aemond opened his eye big, keeping calm, blinkless. She winked an eye at him, and placed a kiss on one of his thighs.

-Come here-. He suddenly growled, standing up and taking her hands, pulling them so she'd stand as well. Daera breathed fast because of the fast moves, and she grunted when he suddenly grabbed her waist, squeezing it-. He is not your husband-, he breathed fast.

-The fuck he's not-, she breathed quickly as well, pressing her womanhood against his cock. Aemond grunted, giving her a turn around and making her face the bed.

-He doesn't deserve you-. The One-Eyed purred, placing his hands on her back, and suddenly pushing her on the mattress. Burying her face on it, the princess laughed, climbing into the bed with amusement-. Wait there-, he mumbled, taking off his shirt's buttons.

-I'm not too patience, my prince-. Daera said, funnily, lying face down. She rested her elbows on the mattress and moved her legs on the air-. You better hurry-, she laughed, glancing at her nails.

The princess chuckled when feeling a weight joining her in the bed all of a sudden. Aemond hummed with a smile as he placed himself on top of her, climbing over her body with his messy loose hair, hearing her harmonious laughter. She bit her lips within a smile when feeling his now naked body over hers, so warm.

-There you are...-she murmured funnily, playing with her rings as she sees them.

-Here I am-, he mumbled within a smile, closing his eye and caressing her neck and shoulder with his nose-. Hmm...-he hummed, sniffing her delightful fragrance-. We always fuck when we fight-, Aemond pointed.

-Yes, that's why we're married-. She huffed, burlesque. He chuckled, kissing her shoulder warmly.

-And alive-, he joked, and they both laughed. Daera giggles, closing her eyes while feeling his soft cock pressing right against her bare ass, driving her insane-. Then I won't see you for a whole fucking moon-. The prince murmured, bitter-...again...-he grunted.

-Oh-, she tsked, closing her eyes for a few seconds-. You know how this works-. His love whispered, sighing.

-I hate how it works-, he grunted, clenching his teeth. Daera noded, moving one of her legs to caress one of his, joining him on his feeling. Aemond, calmed by this, closed his eye, resting his chin on her back-. I hate to have you just for a few days, Daera. I hate to see you go-, he complained, thinly.

-And I hate to leave, my love-. The princess whispered softly. He hummed, begginning to caress her jaw slowly, moving his forehead on her back-. But we both have our own families to attend to-, she pointed.

Aemond chewed the inside of his cheeks for a few moments, silent. He didn't want to think about it anymore, not now. So, after a brief sigh, he began to get two of his fingers on his wife's mouth. She didn't hesitate for a moment, opening her lips and letting him in, sucking those fingers with slowness.

-That's it, doll-. He whispered, nearing to one of her ears. Daera groaned, holding his wrist.

-Remember to touch yourself, every of this nights, until we see each other again-. She said within a whisper, licking his fingers-. I don't want you to starve-, she mumbled.

-I will touch myself, while thinking of you, my lady-. Aemond mutters against her ear, seeing how she takes his fingers so well into her mouth, sucking them slowly-. You do so as well-, he pleaded.

-I always do-, Daera moaned, feeling her pulsing cunt. She bit his fingers briefly, furrowing her brows-. Please touch me...so I remember-, she whispered. Aemond nailed his eye on hers, drawing a smile.

Well, a few minutes passed, and...

-Fuck!-, the princess shrieked in a sharp moan, moving like crazy on the purple-eyed's bed as his fingers rubbed fastly against femininity, drowning her in the purest of pleasures.

-No noise!-, the prince growls, breathing heavily over her right cheek, kissing it constantly while he satisfies her with three fingers entering and leaving her interior, while with the other hand and his five fingers he moves her clit from side to side, making her to shake non-stop, and taking more and more air from her.

-Aemond!-, she sobbs with her mouth open, yelling against his pillow, leaving her saliva on it. He touches her endlessly, still on the top of her, keeping her body pinned against the mattress, against his long expert fingers.

-You always forget the rules-, Aemond bit his lips hard, looking at her expressions from the side of his eye. She loosens and tight her face, always with a smile on her lips as she moved non-stop, stimulating her breasts and also biting her lips in the midst of wild laughter, being a victim of those hands that she adores so much-. Silent, Daera!-. He couldn't help but laugh.

-Ow fuck me-, she said, breathless-. Ow fuck me every day, everywhere-. The princess pleaded, as wet as a sea.

-I can't but wish, my love-. He purred over her ear, kissing it. His wife whimpered so sharply, rubbing her ass on his cock.

With only one of her eyes open, Daera saw how Aemond separated his hand from her cunt, but this was only to take it to his mouth, soaking his own fingers with his own saliva and tasting her sticky fluids right there, swallowing them with pleasure, which she laughed excitedly at, arching her back almost painfully.

-You filthy girl-, he whispers agitated, stopping licking his fingers and returning them to where they were before, now shaking them with much more fluidity and abruptness, making her to cry on the mattress, squeezing the pillow-. You always scream so much, you always yell-. He growls, feeling the burning wet skin of her cunt-...I like it-, Aemond sang on her ear.

-ARG! Oh, right-she moans like crazy, her chest rising and falling, getting wet and weter because of him-. You are the one who always cries, bitch-. She smiled stupidly, wrinkling her eyebrows as much as she could, and then opening her mouth wide.

The One-Eyed Prince laughed, not denying it, and then his fingers somehow accelerated each movement and each pressure even more, driving his wife crazy. She just couldn't handle one more second of pleasure, and so she came from one moment to the next in an abrupt climax and a loud cry on the mattress that was music to the prince's ears.

He felt and saw, without stopping to do anything, how Daera came eagerly on bottom of him, squeezing the pillow and turning back her ass while she moaned and gasped non-stop, breathing his name with a most goofy and unfocused smile.

-Aemond, oh fuck, Aemond-. Her breathing, with no control, sang beautifully and thinly. He bit his lips as he rubbed his fingers on her hot clit, slowly calming down his quickness-. Fuck, fuck...-she sighed, moving her hips like a snake.

-Well done, wife-. He whispered, placing a kiss on her neck. She tsked, bitting her lips with low moans-. Always so well done-, he praised her, begginning to play with her tits.

-You god-, Daera sighed with her eyes closed-. Hells...I'll need to place a fucking candle on my fucking cunt so I can feel what I feel with you-, she complained, still getting back her breath. He raised his brows, smiling.

-I beg you to not try-, he mumbled insecure, and she instantly laughed. He followed, wrinkling his eyes and huffing through his nose-. Ah...fuck-, he sighed, tired. The prince doesn't wants her to go.

-Yeah...-she mumbled, tired too, blinking slowly as she feels his hands cupping her tits-...fuck-, she agreed. The princess doesn't wants to leave.

Aemond closed his eye, placing a loving kiss on Daera's mane.

■ ■ ■

Aemond roared low, slashing at Ser Criston with his sword, attacking him with all his strength and agility. His trainer was breathing heavily, and responded to each movement with the same strength and agility.

Ser Cole, all sweaty, grunts throwing his morningstar against the prince, who quickly stepped back with a hard expression, carefully. He raised his sword again, deffending himself from the round weapon. He wanted to slice it in little pieces.

He wants to slice them. Everyone who has wronged him, everyone who keeps taking his love away from him.

The One-Eyed Prince clenched his teeth, putting all of his fury on his training, hitting every time harder and faster, madder. The rage that nests inside of him always show easily the days Daera has to depart from King's Landing. He just feels so much despair, angst and fierceness. Impotence. He can't do anything. Worse, he has to pretend he is happy for her leaving.

He has never killed anybody, but when he wields his sword with this angriness clouding his mind, he just pictures them. Jacaerys and Lucerys. He can't help but imagine he is tearing apart his wife's fake husband's head from his body, and beating the life out off the bastard that took his eye and snitched them when they were still hidden lovers.

In days like these, when he knows he will we sleeping alone, without the warm soul of his wife, its when he remembers the most all of the injustices that have been commited towards him, all made by them. It ashames him so much, it drives him so mad.

Aemond let out a low growl, pushing Ser Criston with his shield, and then clashing his sword against him with no stop. Cole laughed, surprised, encouraging him even more.

All of those punches, clinking and growls in the training patio are being heard and watched by Princess Daera, from a high balcony of The Red Keep, all alone and silent.

She scrunched her nose, flinching when seeing Aemond receiving a harsh punch by Ser criston. She hissed, worried and annoyed, but knowing she couldn't do anything. Daera just sighed, and Aemond quickly stood on his feet again.

The princess gulped, playing with her fingers while looking at him at every moment. She has been on this balcony for a few minutes, watching her husband training. She expected to find a good ambience, but that is too much to ask for in this castle. Aemond is not training, he...it seems he is actually readying himself to kill.

Daera hummed within a little laugh, shaking her head, and throwing that thought away.

She is very aware of how he gets the day she has to leave after staying in The Keep for ten whole days, visiting her dear godschildren and her cousin. In general, those ten days are always happy, and she expects them with no cease. But, when the tenth day, the last one, arrives, their little bubble just...explodes.

Aemond roared, wielding his sword.

Daera has knowledge of the resentment that has grown into her husband during all of these months. Thay don't really talk about it, for they try to evade the topic as much as possible. But no words are needed, she just feels it, she feels his- his fury, his rage, his hate.

Anyways, the princess convinces herself of just letting him feel what he has to feel. She knows she herself is not a person that tolerates other people telling her what to feel, and she knows Aemond isn't either. So...she just lets him feel his feel, even though she doesn't share it at all.

It's been nearly a year since Aemond saw her family for the last time. Nearly a year since they both abruptly took off flying in their dragons from Driftmark to King's Landing. Nearly a year since they arrived to The Red Keep, planning on deffending their love, just to find their families advocating against it. Nearly a year since Jace came up with his solution, and stole her hand from him. Oh she is sure, she is so sure, that Aemond hates them.

Daera shivered, playing with her rings and shaking her head.

Yes, yes. Aemond hates them, so what? She hates half his family and yet she lives with them for ten days every moon and everything goes just fine. Aemond hates them, but she has dealt with that perfectly for more time than she can count. Besides, what does it matters? They are not planned to seeing each other again soon, and that calms her down, hugely.

Everything is marching just as they planned. Apart.

■ ■ ■

Once again, Kalistrox came out of the clouds. But, this time, he is surrounded by multiple stars and a dark night sky. And, instead of seeing The Red Keep, he saw the castle of Dragonstone, which has its torches all lighted up, warming up its outsides.

On his back, Daera formed a big smile on her face, sighing trough her nose and grabbing tighter to her saddle.

-Alright, boy-. She whispers, caressing one of Kalistrox's horns on his back. He purred, flapping his wings with calm-...We are home-, the princess smirked, feeling her mane flying in the wind.

Soon, The Golden Ray reached one of the multiple mountains of the island, close to the beach, where the rest of her family's dragons were already sleeping, though some of them opened their lizard eyes qhen feeling the newcomer's landing near them. Daera growled and laughed when they finally landed.

-Well done!-, she sighs, not waiting anything to come down of her saddle. Kalistrox sighed and purred, tired-. Rest now, my boy, we had a long flight-. The princess whispered as she walked down one of his wings, caressing his neck.

Her dragon agreed. He roared lowly towards the other dragons from close, greeting them. Vermax and Syrax welcomed him with dear growls, while Arrax and Tyraxes still sleep deeply. Moondancer is away, and there was no sign of Caraxes.

Daera smiled, greeting them as well. She adjusted the brown leather bag that hangs on one of her shoulders and, in a breath, walked until she was facing her dragon, approaching him tenderly.

-Salīnma rūts naejot se oktion [ Another trip to the city... ]-, the princess whispers her Old Valyrian as she caress the sides of his golden face. The dragon purred lovingly, closing his eyes for a few seconds. She smiled calmly, feeling his tough cristal scales-. Īlon ēdan kirimves, daör īlon? [ We had our fun, didn't we? ]-, she asks him, funny.

Kalistrox growled tenderly as he slowly lowered his body to the grund, lying on it. His rider laughed with amusement, caressing his huge horns with her small brown hands, the ones he loves so much to feel. He stares at her, deeply, watching her tired smile and her tender eyes.

-Nyke gīmigon ao mikst zirȳ tolī [ I know you miss them too ]-, Daera raised her brows and noded, thinking about Vhagar and Dreamfyre, about Aemond and Helaena. Jahaera, and Jahaerys-. Yn īlon'll māzigon arlī, hae va moriot [ But we'll come back, as we always do ]-, she reminded him, smiling. Kalistrox purred as an answer, blinking slowly. She giggles, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, watching really carefully to not cut her lips with any of his little horns, or even with his very scales-. But I also know how much you love being home...-, she whispered funnily, giving him a last caress.

After wishing him a good night, she turned around and began to walked down the mountain, humming a song as she walks in the safe night Dragonstone welcomed them with. Kalistrox watched her until she dissappeared from his sight. Warmed by his own self, and by all the kisses she gave him, The Golden Ray closed his eyes, falling into a tender sleep after a final thought. No rider of him has been kinder and lovelier than princess Daera Targaryen.

Not too long after, the princess was greeted in the gates of the castle by the guards in there. They welcomed her with their usual politeness, happy of seeing her back. She also greeted them with joy, calling them by their names and wishing them a good night.

Afterwards, finally inside of the castle, Daera yawned as she walked freely. It is late, so there is literally no one around, and her steps are the only thing heard. Smiling, she yawned again as she streched her arms to the sides.

-WELL, WELL, WELL!-. She suddenly yelled loudly-. I expected a warmer welcome!!-, the princess shouted burlesque, opening her eyes big as she walked. Immediately, she heard some quick steps approaching-. Might as well just go to my chambers and sleep myself to death-, she shrugged.

-You attention seeker-. A sharp and familiar voice, as burlesque as hers, answers.

Daera smiled, halting her walk, and then she saw her father walking out of a hall, dressed in his night clothes, but with a very awaken expression. His crazy eyes opened big as his thin lips drew an automatic smile when he saw his older daughter standing in there with a prideful posture.

-Daera-, he breathed her name, quickly walking to her.

-Ah so you remember my name?-, she narrowed her eyes.

-Shut it, child-. Daemon snorted as he grabbed her into his arms, hugging her. Daera laughed loudly, hugging him back. The hug just lasted a few seconds, and then he faced her again, licking his lips within a smile-. You back from hell then?-, he asks funnily.

-Indeed, can't you see I'm fucking burned?-. She pointed at herself with taunt, rolling her eyes. Daemon laughed sharply, wrinkling his eyes.

-You have thick skin-, he said, raising a hand to pass it on her hair, fixing some rebel strands-. And...a bag-, he raised his blond brows, pointing at it-. A good wine would be welcomed this night-, the prince mumbles.

-Oh, then what a coincidence I have the very one you asked me to bring from the capital-. Daera gasped with fake surprise, opening her bag, and taking out a big bottle of wine of it. Her father instantly cheered, grabbing it with no doubt-. I may have taken a sip or two-, she warned.

-I'm pretty sure you may have taken six or ten-. Daemon muttered, shaking the bottle and then making a pout with his lips. She smiled innocently, shrugging.

Someone else came out from the hall Daemon came out from before. Rhaenyra. She arrived with an open smile and a shiny face, caressing her bulging pregnant belly. She has five months in.

-Isn't it too late to drink?-, The Heir to The Iron Throne asked, narrowing her clear eyes.

-Never-, her husband mumbles.

-Nyra!-, Daera smiles, and does not wait a second to run towards the pregnant princess, who widened her smile as seeing her approaching.

-My dear-, she sighed, welcoming her with a sided hug. Daera giggles with her nose scrunched, pressing her cheek against hers-. Did you fly safe?-, she tilts her head to a side, smirking.

-Kalistrox always flies me safe-. The younger princess showed off. Then, she suddenly fell on her knees, facing her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra laughed, and Daemon did as well, walking calmly towards them-. Hellooou!-, she greets the unborn babe with all the happiness of The Seven Kingdoms.

-They missed you-, Nyra comments funnily, caressing her belly with one hand, and Daera's head with the other.

-Oh you mean she missed me?-, Daera asked, stressing the gender. Daemon raised his brows, smiling, while her stepmother huffed with excitement, shaking her head-. I swear it, Nyra, this one will be your firstborn girl-, she promises with a hopeful smile, caressing her belly.

-Then she shall be heartily welcomed-, Rhaenyra sighed, glancing at her husband, who sided a smile with sweetness looking at her to-, or he!-. She raised her brows.

-Yeah yeah-, the princess sighs rolling her eyes.

-Daera!-

Daera's name was happily mentioned by nearing voices. Daera instantly stood again, forming the biggest of smiles when she sees Rhaena, Luke and Joffrey arriving. And, in the arms of the first two, were Aegon and Viserys.

-Holy fucks, who woke them?!-. Daemon snorts when seeing the awaken babes, babbling happier than ever.

-Fucking hells, hii, hii!-. An excited Daera runs to them, leaning front as she approached. Rhaena, Joffrey and Luke ran quickly too.

-Aegon said my name for the first time a few days ago!-, Luke informs with excitement.

-He did?!-, Daera laughs excited, taking his head, and placing a kiss on his brown hair.

-He didn't, he just babbled! But I swear Viserys did say mine! I swear!-, Rhaena spoke excited and quickly, hugging her sister from a side.

-He puked, Rhaena!-. Joffrey corrected as he laughed, hugged to one of Daera's legs strongly.

-Are you implying my name sounds like vomit?!-, Rhaena gasped shocked as her sister placed a greeting kiss on her forehead, laughing.

Daemon and Rhaenyra pressed their lips, amused, glancing at each other in silence.

-Joffrey!-, Lucerys reproaches the younger-. It doesn't, Rhaena, it doesn't-. He softly says to her, shaking his head. Rhaena sighed relieved, smiling to him.

-It does! RHAENA!-, Joffrey pretended to gag, and Daera instantly bursts out laughing towards the ceiling.

-Joffrey!-, Rhaena and Luke repproached.

-Fucking gods, Joff, you're- you're hilarious, my boy!-. Daera laughed as she leaned front to kiss his head and caress his hair. Joffrey chuckled proudly, closing his eyes-. Rhaena, Rhaena-. She gaggs too, carefully taking Aegon and Viserys from her siblings's arms-. It does sounds like vomiting-, she taunts.

-Daera!-, Rhaena grunts.

-I'm jesting, I'm jesting!-. Daera laughs, rocking her little brothers into her arms-. I'm just jesting, right boys?-. She smiles to them dearly, caressing her nose against Viserys's.

-How was your flight? Good?-. Lucerys asks with his cheeks red, smiling as he caress Aegon's little hairs.

-Yes, everything good? How is Kalistrox?-, Rhaena questions as well.

-More than well, already sleeping in the mountains-. Daera answered with soft laughs, rocking the babbling babes-. I also could use some slee- OW!-, she tsked when Aegon suddenly pulled her hair strongly.

-Gods!-, Luke scrunches his nose.

-No, no, let go!-. Rhaena holds the babe's hand carefully.

-Fuck, Aegon!-, the princess laughs curving her brows.

-Come, come, give him to me-. Rhaenyra quickly approaches, opening her arms. Chuckling, Daera handed him carefully-. They should be sleeping, and they were!-, she glanced at Rhaena and Luke with a funny reproachment.

-They wanted to welcome Daera!-, Joffrey instantly excuses.

-Yeah I bet-, Daemon chuckles, taking Viserys as well from his daughter's arms. She smiled, caressing the twins heads.

-We'll see that you have a supper arranged, you must be hungry-. Nyra raised her brows towards her older stepdaughter, who quickly noded.

-Oh yes yes, please-. Daera sighed curving her eyebrows-. I am starving, as a matter of fact-, she confessed. The last thing she ate was breakfast, and the fact that she had sex with Aemond afterwards just made it go quicker.

-You should always fly with food on you, as I do-. Lucerys said proudly, and she huffed, amused, after seeing Daemon and Rhaenyra leaving with the twins.

-Yes, like the time you almost choked while flying Arrax, right?-. Daera taunts, and Luke fades his smile, scratching his neck.

-It was not the best idea to have a stew, I recognize it-. The prince mumbled, and his sisters laughed, making him to smile.

-Alright, okey-. Daera laughs, raising her hands-. Pick a number between one to three, now-. She snapped her fingers, pointing at them.

-One-, Rhaena quickly says.

-Two-, Luke flinches.

-Three!-, Joffrey smiled.

-Alright Joff, you go first-. Daera smiles, opening her bag and looking for something on it.

-But one goes first!-, Rhaena rolled her eyes, smiling.

-No, Joff goes first-. Daera winked an eye, and Luke laughed amused-. My boy, here you have-. She smiled, handing him a pair of delicate leather gloves sized for his hands. They are all black, and have a small red three-headed dragon on each side.

-Thank you!-, Joffrey jumped and laughed excited, taking them with a bright on his eyes.

-Do you like them?-, Daera asks with a smile.

-Yes! I always like what you bring for me!-. The boy smirks happily. His sister watches him with the same happiness, blinkless-. Thank you, Daera! I will show mother!-. He cheers, shoting out running from a second to another.

-Watch your steps, Joff!-. Rhaena yells him shaking her head.

-Alright, sweet boy, let us see what we have for you-. Daera wrinkled her lips, looking in the bag. Luke smiled within a sigh, excited for whatever she brought him from the capital-. Ouh, how about this?-. She giggles, taking out a long cape made to measure for him that reaches before his feet. It is a dull red, and embroidered with dozens of small gold diamonds all over the fabric.

-Uf, gods!-. Rhaena sighs with a smile, while Luke blinked hugely, forming a wide grin.

-More than fit for a prince, don't you think?-. Daera asks to her sister, who noded excited-. Do you like it?-, she smiles to him.

-Its- its beautiful, yeah, Daera! Gods!-. Lucerys cheers, taking the cape and looking at it with a shine on his eyes-. Thank you!-, he looks at her.

-Only the best for you-, she smiled tenderly, caressing his red ear. Luke laughs, staring at his new clothe again. Then, she looks at her sister, who bit her lips with a smirk-. And for you as well-, she mumbles funnily, searching in the bag again.

-I always trust your taste-, Rhaena sighs, smiling.

Daera giggles, and then she takes out from the bag a fancy red necklace, made with precious sparkling diamonds inlaid in the middle. Her little sister gasped when seeing it, instantly holding it into her hands.

-Seven gods-, the younger princess whispers, amazed. Luke smiles when seeing her smiling. Daera bit her lips, tilting her head while watching her reaction-. It is majestic-, she sighs, mesmerized.

-You like it?-, her sister asks within some soft laughs, raising her brows.

-I love it, sister, thank you-. Rhaena smiled sweetly, hugging it to her chest-. I will wear it first thing tomorrow-, she promises.

-I'll fit you great-, Luke flattered her with a pressed smile. Hearing Rhaena giggling like a child, Daera chuckled, palming her bag.

-I am glad you liked your gifts-. She says-. I brought a pair of shoes for Baela, but they'll have to await for her, huh?-. She sighs, laughing.

-Ugh I can't wait for her to be back-, Lucerys sighed too.

-Neither can I, and thanks the gods you arrived already. Staying alone with all the boys is not as fun as it seems-, Rhaena commented, opening her eyes big.

-Yeah-. Luke agreed-. Wait!-, he gasped, realizing what she really said.

-Well I'm here, I'm here-. Daera laughs amused, raising her hand to caress one of Rhaena's cheeks. She smiled to her, dearly-. Baela will be arriving in a moon already, and she shall have her shoes-, she said.

The same day Daera left to her usual ten-day-visit to King's Landing, Baela also left Dragonstone, with Driftmark as her destiny. As the sisters always do, she is staying with Rhaenys for a short time, being her ward, joining her grandma in her hearings and audiences as Lady of Driftmark. Within a month, Baela is supposed to be back already with her siblings and family.

Daera blinks calmly, looking at them with a growing curious expression.

-So-, she crosses her hands over her belly. Luke and Rhaena look at her-...Where is my husband?-, the princess asks, shrugging.

■ ■ ■

Aemond, quietly, stares deeply at the fireplace in front of him. He is seated, in his chambers, all alone and silent. A fire may be warming his surroundings, but his heart beats coldly. That empty feeling.

As he watches the flames, one of his hands plays with the curly strand of hair braided to his, caressing it slowly between his steady fingers. His lips are forming a serious pout, and his only eyes seems to never ever blink.

I should have moved faster when I saw Criston heading towards me, the prince thinks. He neared through my blind side. Cruel, but smart. I need to twirl, and never lose focus of my foes. If I need to dance while fighting, then be it, but I must turn constantly.

Aemond wrinkles his pout, blinking one time.

Daera is probably in Dragonstone by now already, he suddenly realized. He clenched his jaw, playing more slowly with the curly hair. Its unbelievable, he thinks, how boring his chambers are without her in it, how cold the fire lits. Her warmness is back with her people, surely, with them people.

Daera would be so happy if she lived in King's Landing and visited Dragonstone from time to time, not the other way around. I know it. The people love her, as well as the weather does, and Helaena, her children, Vhagar. I love her. She is his wife, and a wife must reside at all times with her husband, in her husband's lands. And yet, again, she is with his sister, the whore of Dragonstone, and her bastard children, her bastard fake husband. What I would do if I could just-

The prince's thought were interrumpted by sudden coughs he heard from outside his chamber. Aemond furrowed his brows, disgusted, listening to the raw strong coughings. It was a man's, he could tell by its roughness.

Prince Aemond wondered whether if it was Aegon arriving from the city already, drunk and tipsy, or if it was his dick of a father, Viserys, coughing every time closer to dead.

He wouldn't care if it were Viserys. But, when thinking about the possibility that it was his brother out there, he tsked and stood up from his chair, quickly walking to the door. He opened and checked outside, tense.

He had wished it was Viserys.

Aegon stumbles in the hallways in the middle of his coughs and laughs, babbling a thousand of Valyrian words. He moves like a ship in a storm, from side to side, endlessly. A group of maidens, at the end of the hallway, stare at the drunken prince while murmuring and blinking big.

-Fuck, Aegon-. Aemond instantly flinches, walking outside of his room-. Go away!-, he roared towards the gossiping maidens, and they quickly shivered, walking away within a second-. Aegon-, he grunts his name with poison.

-Brother-. Aegon opens one of his sleepy eyes, finding his tall slim brother madly walking towards him-. Dracarys-, he mumbles.

-Shut up!-, Aemond growls, taking his shirt neck and pulling him abruptly. Aegon gasped, almost dragging himself in the floor, and beginning to laugh dryly.

-You- you need some fun for yourself, brother-. Aegon mumbles tiredly, not even knowing where he's being pulled to-. Let me take you to the city, let's go-. He mutters.

Aemond pushes him harshly, and he fell violently into a divan, where he began to laugh and acommodate himself. The one-eyed breathes heavily, disgusted by the view of his drunken brother. Quickly, he closes the door back again, not making any noise.

-If it had been mother the one who found you like this- if it had been grandfather!-, Aemond grunts, facing him again. Bored, Aegon huffs, closing his eyes-. Fuck. I should send you to sleep to The Dragonpit, you morron-, he spits sourly.

-Does not sounds like a bad idea-. He smiles, silly, thinking of Sunfyre. The one-eyed shakes his head, bemused-. Where is...um, where is Helaena?-. Aegon asks tiredly, palming the cushion below his head-. I wish to...I wish to see my children-, he babbled-. Bring them to me!-, he ordered.

Aemond opened his eye big, turning to look at him with his lips slightly opened. He sighed, bemused, shaking his head from side to side.

-You have no right-, the one-eyed whispered. Aegon furrowed his brows, looking up at him-. You can't come and go whenever you want, drunk and stinking of a thousand whores, and then claim to see them-. Aemond hisses, standing so firmly, looking so big and mature at the side of his weak and poor-minded brother, who opened his lips while listening at him, offended-. You are no one to them-, he whispers.

-I am their...!-, Aegon's voice broke.

-I am their father-. Aemond cut his words, coldly. Aegon left his lips hanging, feeling them trembling. He looked up at his younger brother with tears on his weak eyes, barely awake-. More than you have been-. He tilted his head to a side, not having mercy towards his reckleness. Aegon gulped, and Aemond began to leaning front, staring deeply at him with no emotion on his eye-...They're no children of yours-. He dictated, cold.

Aegon's throat trembled, and he couldn't take it any longer. He sighed and buried his face on the cushion. Perhaps he fell asleep, perhaps he started to cry. Aemond did not checked, and he just kept looking at him, silent, disappointed.

What he would do if he had Aegon's place. Firstborn of The King. He has a wife, and mistreats her. He has children, and neglects them. Its so not funny. All these days, all these moons, all this year Aemond has wished for has been all that. He would show off his wife if he could, in front of all the lords, in front of all the houses, and in front of the whole kingdom. He would love the children she could give him, no matter how many. He wouldn't leave them alone for a second. He would not forget their names, their age, the dragons they'd ride. He would not play blind if someone dared to do harm to his children, or his wife.

Aemond breathed heavily as bitter tears gathered on his eye. He deprived himself from sobbing, for he would never cry in front of Aegon, not even if he's asleep. He blinked those tears away, inhaling deeply.

Knockings in the door took him out of his thoughts, thanks the gods. The prince hummed lowly, walking towards there and opening the door with a cold expression. Ser Erryk is the one standing outside, all sweaty and pale, breathing fast.

-My prince-, Erryk greets, and Aemond doesn't even blinks-. I apologize for the late hour. Prince Aegon fleed from my side, my prince, I wonder if perhaps you-

-My brother is already in bed, Ser-. The one-eyed interrupted him. Erryk breathes deeply, hiding any sign of emotion, but he felt so relieved-. What a fine Sworn Protector you are, Ser. I can smell you were having your fun with the prince, outside in the wild city-. Aemond draws a sarcastic smile, making the knight to shiver, opening his lips-. Hmm, but worry not, I've already done your job, once again. Good night-. And he closed the door within a second, right on his face.

Ser Erryk stood frozen, staring at the wooden door that nearly clashed with his nose. Prince Aemond clearly doesn't know that the reason why he smells like brew is because Prince Aegon throwed a goblet at him when taking him out of a brothel, in Flea Bottom. How could Aemond know? How could...any of the Greens?

The knight gulped, and silently turned around, standing firmly, and guarding the doors of the chambers, as he will do all night.

Aemond walked passed Aegon without even looking at him, hearing his snores. He walked out to his balcony, finally having some fresh air. He sighed heavily, crossing his hands tightly behind his back.

The One-Eyed Prince watched at the stars for a few seconds, and then he closed his eye, tired. He whispered his wife's name, wishing for her. He wishes, so bad, to be back in Pentos right at the moment.

■ ■ ■

Daera opened the doors of The Chamber of The Painted Table, silently walking into it with a soft expression. And when she does, she finds Jacaerys on a chair. His head is between an open book in the table, and he is deeply sleeping on it, drooling.

Daera instantly laughed, closing the doors behind her and walking inside the room. She watches him, so relaxed and calm. Michevously, she took and chair and dragged it on the floor, causing a shriek sound to rise in the chamber.

-AH!-. Jace abruptly wakes up, gasping-. The- the Conquest of Dorne!-, he answers a not asked question, exaltated.

Harmonious chuckles reaches his ears. After blinking two quick times, he found Daera taking seat just at his side, smiling bigly and funnily. He gasped when he saw her, smiling as well.

-You are back!-, he cheered, instantly hugging her with dearness.

-I'm back, and you were fainted!-. She joked amused, hugging him back between laughs. Jace chuckles, feeling the tender caresses she always gives on his hair-. Are you alright?-, she asks him.

-Yes yes, I am-. Jacaerys instantly nods, slowly breaking the hug. He stares at her in silent, watching her face for a few seconds. She smiles at him, sighing.

Jace glances at her lips and, after licking his, he began to lean front, planning on kissing her. Daera quickly gulped, placing her hands on his chest, and stopping him.

-Jace-, she named, calmed-. Remember that we don't have to do that when we're alone-. The princess whispered as soft as she could, tilting her head.

Jacaerys gulped strongly, starting to nod, and then giving her a small smile. She smiles back at him, gulping too, and looking away. When she did, he stared at her again.

-Is a book more comfortable than your bed? I wonder-. She mumbles curiously, quickly glancing at the table.

-No, not at all, I was...reading-. He sighed, massaging his forehead with two fingers, as Daemon sometimes does.

-Reading, was it?-. Daera mutters, looking at the book he has opened. She eyed it, furrowing her brows-. This is High Valyrian, Jace! Of course you fell asleep, for you don't understand it-. She pointed with laughs, and he snorted looking away.

-And that is my mistake!-. He complained, exhausted-. I have to start study it, as soon as possible, I'm already late for it- the prince sighed, closing his eyes.

-Sūrs dōrī loktīs naejot gūrēñagon-. Daera says funnily, and he tsks ashamed, not having understood a single word-. Its never late to learn, Jace-. She translated it, tilting her head with a soft smile.

-Why didn't I learn it when I was little, as you and your sisters did?-. Jacaerys complained with a sigh, curving his brows.

-Well, father and mother were pretty strict about us learning High Valyrian-. Daera clearly remembers, laughing a little when thinking of her mother and their endless lessons with her-. And, when we moved here, I very much remember that, between the language lessons and the training, you and Luke would always pick the blades, gladly-. She pointed, still laughing.

-Gods, so stupid-. Jace snorts, shaking his head. Daera watches him softness and understanding, rolling her eyes over his face-. I will not be able to be a good king to Seven Kingdoms if I don't even speak my ancesters language-, he complained, stressed.

-Of course you'll be-. The princess said, raising a hand to caress one of his cheeks with her thumb. He closed his lips and sighed through his nose, looking at her-. And of course you'll learn!-, she giggled, raising her brows.

The boy shook his head, with no hope. The princess chuckled, opening her bag, and searching something on it.

-Here...-, she hands him a well preserved book of perhaps over three hundred pages. Jacaerys raised his brows, instantly smiling when seeing his gift from the capital-. It goes about the many monetary crisis The Seven Kingdoms have gone through-, she says.

-Oh gods, that is so interesting!-. Jace sighs, and she nods proudly, scrunching her nose.

-One you can read-. Daera raised her brows. He laughs briefly, placing the book in the table.

-Thank you-, he whispers. She smiles at him, blinking calmly-. So, how was your visit to King's Landing this time? How are things there?-, he asks, curious.

-Well, Helaena and her children are obviously the best part-. She scoffs, and he agrees with laughs-. Aegon is still a whore, Otto Hightower as well-. Daera sighs, placing an elbow on the table-. And my uncle...your grandfather...-, she stays silent as her eyes gained a sad glitter, thinking about the king's horrible health. Jace gulped, staring at her. Daera shook her head for some silent seconds, tired-. Alicent still makes her best efforts to noy let me see him-, she sighed.

-You are the princess-, he complained.

-Well she's the fucking queen-. Daera rolled her eyes.

-And you'll be too, I don't know what she thinks she's playing-. Jacaerys huffed, shrugging. Daera drew a smile on her lips, giggling briefly-. And Aemond? Was he a pain too?-. He asks within a sigh, narrowing his eyes.

The princess sighs through her nose, not looking away from him.

-Nyke jaelagon nyke istan rūsīr zirȳla isse konīr arlī... [ I wish I was still there with him... ]-. She whispered, lowly and softly, thinking of King's Landing. Of Pentos.

-What? Oh, come on!-. Jace tsked when not understanding her. Daera laughed funnily, blinking.

-I just ignore Aemond, as always-. She answered, lying-. We have nothing to talk about-. She shrugged, shameless.

-Good-, Jace drew a tiny smile, nodding. Daera blinks, doing the same.

-And...have you exchanged any letters, with Baela, since she left to Driftmark?-. She asks curiously, lightly raising her brows. Jace raised his as well, looking away.

-She has sent us some-, he nodded.

-I asked about you-, Daera clarified.

-Come on, Dae-. Jacaerys sighed, rolling his eyes briefly-. Baela doesn't like me anymore...not like she used to, you know it better than anyone-. He pointed, aware of the fact that the Targaryen sisters share eveeything between them.

The princess sighs, accepting it. The truth is Baela was mature enough to move foward and forget her hidden but obvious feelings towards Jace after he decided to marry his sister. Now he is her cousin, her stepbrother, her brother. Nothing more.

She places a hand on one of Jace's shoulders, gripping it with tenderness.

-I just hope that, some day, she came to understand that I married you for the good of everybody-. He whispers heartily, with all of the good intention of the world. Daera drew a tiny sour smile.

-She understood it perfectly, Jace-. She mumbles-. 'Tis you...the one who still struggles with it-, she tilted her head to a side, hardening her expressions a little.

-I do not-, he quickly denies. He inhales deeply, placing a hand on hers, over his shoulder, caressing her fingers-. I love you deeply, Daera...-. Jace declared, leaning front.

-Hmm-. She smiled for a second, having heard that a thousand times from his mouth. How much she would like to scream that she loves Aemond instead-. Alright then-. She whispered.

Jacaerys stared at her, drawing a soft smirk. He leaned front, grabbing her cheeks with tenderness. Daera gulped, curving her brows, and staring at him with a tired grin.

-I know how lucky I am to be your husband, Daera-. He whispered, leaning everytime closer. She hummed, placing her hands over his, gulping again-. I think about it daily-, his sweet voice said.

Then, Jacaerys kissed Daera, his wife.

He closed his eyes, and caressed her cheeks, kissing her slowly. He wouldn't go beyond her lips, not even meeting her teeth, but yet, he kissed her deeply, wanting her to feel how true his words were, or how true he wishes them to be.

His lips are soft, but not as warm as Aemond's. His thumbs are kind, but not as long as Aemond's. His breathing is not Aemond's. He doesn't moans, he doesn't humms, he doesn't sings her name. His kisses are tender, but not as Aemond's. This is not her husband.

After bearing the kiss for a whole minute, Daera slowly began to break it, doing it softly. Jace smiled silently, watching at her eyes. His cheeks are so red. She smiled too, blinking a few times.

-Join me for supper-, she asked him with a soft whisper.

-Of course-, he muttered.

Daera desperately wishes to eat. Not only to end with her hunger, but also with the sour taste that her mouth now has.

■ ■ ■

Taglist: @loxido @jaime-in-flannel @grungegrrrl @aemondswifey @poppyflower-22 @melaneigh2 @stargaryenx

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #targaryen #aemondtargaryen #the one eyed prince #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fanfic #if villain bad why hot #baela targaryen #daemon targaryen #the dance of the dragons

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kimwedlock · 1 year

Text

Little Dragon

Estimated reading time: 6 minutes

Through the glittering surface of the dark, azure water, down past the constant tug of the current, beneath the reach of shimmering shafts of light, where the pebbles twitched and the green fronds swayed. The roar from the mountains penetrated even here. The tiny wyrm froze in fright at the vibration, before a gentle hum softened the water around it. "Do not panic, my little dragon. It is not a sound you will hear often." The wyrm turned back towards its mother as she coiled her long, serpentine body tighter into her rocky nook, and lay her great head down beside him among the waving stems of reeds. The same current that tried to pull him away merely tugged at the fronds on her chin. The duckweed didn't stir far above them. "Their story is your story. It is time I tell you, and you shall heed it well. For the good of all of us." The wyrm settled and watched as the light played over her scales. "Eons ago, dragons were abundant. We ranged through swamps, caves, deserts, seas, forests, jungles and ice. There was nowhere we could not live and adapt to, and the world was our kingdom for millennia. We saw the rise and fall of many creatures, and few of those who survive today are anything like they used to be. But we dragons have not changed so much. We have always been the kings and queens. We fit the world perfectly. It was made for us. "But in time, deep time, another creature - a wingless, puny creature - arrived and took offence. A creature that cannot adapt, and instead changes the world to adapt to them. In their eyes, our perfection made us a threat, and they began to hunt us. First, because they feared us. Then because they wanted our scales to wear, as if they could become like us, and be perfect like us. Then, for nothing but sport. Hundreds upon thousands of us have fallen for the sake of their glory." The wyrm jolted at a splash from the bank. The serpent lifted her heavy head and watched the beaver swim past. She didn't bother even to snap at it, and lay her chin back down. "And they learned. They hunted us in mating season, the most dangerous time they could - that was the thrill. The excuse. But we were then also our most vulnerable. We dragons are tied to our nests." Another hum rumbled through the water, and she twitched her fronds in amusement. "But this is how we river wyrms survived where others fell. "Dragons are ancient, as I have said, and we have never had reason to hide. Many make spectacles of themselves in the skies for mates and territory. Water dragons, however, do not. Nor do we breathe fire or fumes. And so few have thought to look for dragons by the water, and we in turn keep away from where along the rivers the creatures make their homes. "But one of our kind could see what the rest could not. She knew the creatures would expand their territory, just as we did, and we would either be seen, or cut off from one another, unable to breed. Our species would die out either way. And we could not fly away to safer waters like others could to mountains, nor survive on so little in the drowned caverns. "Suryū knew all of this, and when they were seen along the banks of her river, she acted. "But she did not kill them like others did. She stalked, and she learned. And when breeding season came with the rains, she made her nest among the reeds, and she laid - sooner than anyone else." A glint of silver caught the serpent's eye. Stretching her small, paddle-shaped wings, she adjusted the current passing over her, raised her head, bowed her neck, snapped, and struck. The fish was gone in an instant. The little wyrm snatched at one far smaller. She rumbled in pride again. "Suryū's eggs were small, and the water she breathed over them, warmed in her belly, was a puff rather than a jet. She knew they might well not survive with such treatment. But it was a calculated risk, and, ten days later, those small eggs, tangled in algae, did indeed hatch. The small, stiff little things were nothing like dragons, and jerked about in the water, tiny and helpless. They did not survive. They could not. They were nothing familiar, and were eaten by other clutches. "Suryū tried again the following season, and though these grew bigger, they did not survive, either. Many were caught in fishing nets instead. But she did not tire." She turned her head, and peered at him a little closer with one great turquoise eye. "You, little dragon, are a product of much toil. "It was in the seventh season that Suryū perfected her clutch, with hatchlings familiar enough to go uneaten, big enough to defend themselves, small enough to slip through nets, and fast enough to catch their own prey. This seventh clutch survived, and she passed her success on to the rest of us to follow her lead for the good of our kind. Many did not, believing we should not sully our lineage, that our 'kind' would not be our kind anymore. But there is a good reason that there are so many more of you today than there are of them. "But the deception alone was still not enough. The waters were still not safe. River wyrms had been discovered, and our numbers shrank rapidly. This clutch still looked nothing like their mother, but how long would it be before the deception was discovered, and the puny, offended creatures imagined a new threat? "So Suryū taught her hatchlings to weave wings of water and spider silk where their paddles should have been. She taught them to break through the water and move across its surface on six tiny legs. She taught them to fly, thrown up by small jets of water until those delicate wings took over. Then, one day, when they had learned all she could teach them, they perched on grass and reed and looked down at her through the water, and with a final bow of her great head, she sent them flying off downstream." She chuckled once more. "You might well wonder. Why fly when it was the downfall of the other dragons? Because they, like you, were small enough to slip through nets. No arrow could hit them, and they cast no shadows when they flew. If eyes were looking in the water, far better to be above it. "You will be too, one day. And when you do, my little dragonfly, make for the vast ocean. Lay and breed your young in the streams and rivers along the way, and tell them this story. And when you, or they, or their young, reach at last the endless sea, land yourself amid the rising coils of steam and bubbles." She closed her eyes and nudged him softly with her snout, humming softly into the current. "Our cousins await your return."

No part is to be reproduced without my permission.

#fantasy #fantasy reads #fantasy short story #fantasy story #fantasy creature #dragon #dragonfly #short story #short reads #indie author

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thesoulesscollection · 2 years

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How about V (abandoned place) for the Ask game with Terrence Suave, please?

Or M (rain/snow/storm) with Bernadette? (Whomever you want to write about the most)

Heya, thank you for the request and sorry for the delay here. Again, I do hope you like it. Like always anyone can request anything here so don't hesitate to flood my ask box.

I decided to do both Terrence Suave and my Oc, Bernadette Warner. Both are separate one-shots here. Also, if there's any questions, asks and or requests for prompts for either character you can send it in if you want

Terrence Suave (V: An abandoned or empty place):

Tw/Tags: Minor Angst, Terrence Suave Whump, Mental Anguish, & Ambiguous Timeline (preferably one where the Toppats got into space)

"I was a really bad leader, wasn't I?"

Surely looking like he was going mad with emotions he wasn't used to experiencing, Terrence spoke out to himself knowing no one else was there to reply back in an abandoned Toppat base.

"I get it. I was awful. Reginald had every right to dethrone me. But this is truly unfair, really" He grumbled, kicking the loose rock from the crumbling cement floor, "I've got nobody. He has everything anyone can wish for. Living it up in space with endless riches and loyal love… And then he has the dang nerve to think I should be punished for a lifetime"

Walking around in a circle likely wearing down a route beneath his feet while he repetitively waved his arms all over the place above his head Terrence irritably groaned plopping down in a spare seat.

"And this stupid ancient TV isn't doing me any favors either" As he hit the top of said TV the screen was displaying yet another highly successful raid of the Toppats, their orbital space station flapping in endless starry skies with Reginald's smugly prideful face made it about ten times worse until to his relief immediately turned to black.

'And tell me now who's fault is that, hm?'

Swirling around to face the unknown voice that rudely yet truthfully mocked him for all his inadequacy in life, the disheveled man once so rich in practically anything he could wish for, previously decked out with expensive jewelry was currently worse for wear when he saw a familiar face staring down at him.

'I did tell you after all that you would be the downfall of yourself" Reginald had noted with a signature cheshire grin that irritated Terrence so much.

"You're not there. I know it so go away"

It was painfully true, his mind wasn't what it used to be years ago and right at this moment proved it when he felt his sanity slowly slipping from him, 'Oh. Don't talk to an old friend like that. I know we didn't end our friendship in an amicable manner but this is downright rude, don't you think so, Terri?'

"Just leave me alone… Please" Terrence pitifully pleaded.

'Honestly this is just sad. Pathetic even. Terrence Suave, I thought you'll be living the high life no matter what happens like you said? Right before I left you for dead? Plainly put this is worse than death, huh?'

Twirling the ends of his curled mustache with two fingers, an odd comforting habit, the spirit strutted over his free hand freely waving around in the air to prove a point.

'Held up in an old base of ours hiding away from the outside world? As if anyone cared where you were anyways whether you were dead or alive"

"I said shut up!!!"

As Terrence yelled, his voice cracking in complete despair, his entire body shook uncontrollably as he desperately got ahold of something, a large rock, throwing it directly towards Reginald's direction with aimed precision. Like expected though the spirit disappeared in an instant and the rock unexpectedly crashed into the already broken Tv screen. Shielding himself from the thousand glass shards that came his way then laid quite haphazardly across the floor where Terrence stood there stiff like an unmoving statue. His breathing was unsteady, erratic, pupils like pin pricks as he hunched over, arms wrapped around his middle attempting to regain his composure, mind, and body.

It came to him with little success.

***

Bernadette Warner (M: When it rains/snows/storms) First time writing my Oc so I was happy to do this. As well, same goes for Galeforce (who is a secret favorite of mines):

Tw/Tags: Nothing Major Here. Just Fluff and humor (an attempt at it cause that's not my strong suit)

"You're absolutely drenched, Hubs" She loudly chuckled at the wet misery that was her dear tiredly stumbling into their shared tent.

"Yes. Unfortunately it started pouring just a while ago. And I got caught in the midst of it"

"Your poor ol' thing" She stood up from her seat near their desk, wiping the water from the man's face with her thumbs, "Is there anything I can do for you, hun?"

"I'm over sixty, Bernadette so please. Just spare your false sympathy here. I know you're trying to hold back the laughter"

Resisting the growing urge to indeed laugh, her will did eventually break into a fit of plentiful, deep rooted laughter that echoed throughout the tent's thin, flimsy walls.

"Okay you big baby. I was only trying to help being a long-term doctor and your supportive, loving wife here but go ahead then you can be an old, stubborn sore loser with me. I've had to deal with it for over thirty years as your partner and more if you're counting the times we were kids?"

Though Bernadette continued to laugh before it soon died down in due time to a repressed mild-mannered snort, she fondly watched on to how Hubert merely huffed back so used to her playful antics. Nor did he pull back from her touch, rather decided to lean into it with a loving smile when she cupped his damp face with her dry hands. Short, well trimmed, and clean nails then threaded through his long mustache and beard currently in such a messy disarray where she made sure it looked properly nice once again. A tiny perfectionist side of her always wanted to trim Hubert's facial hair to something a bit more manageable or not have it at all - she never particularly liked it - however she didn't mind now. She just admires the man in silence, lightly gripping his beard and then tugging him close, her lips capturing his in a kiss.

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dxrknessembr8ced · 8 months

Text

8:10 A.M.

Emerge from the nest loud footsteps shook the ground only to reveal that Hsien-Ko has emerged now once more evolved into a far more ferocious monstrosity. Her lower torso appear to have gone quadrupedal with now large muscular feet resembling full of ten sharp toes in each toe, behind her back her spikes have also grown sharper and more ferocious looking at the end of her tail, the tip of her tail the grotesque face became far more human, perfectly human and appears to be a more grotesque version of her older sister, even has hair and glowing red eyes staring at her environment. Both shoulders of hers appear to have sharp bone spikes sticking out, the stomach appears to be glowing a yellow glow glowing through the war torn city. The chest is now covered by a sharp boney plate, her cheeks are now torn exposing thousands of sharp teeth powerful enough to tear through flesh, behind that talisman that is her sister a large third eye have emerge emitting such power along with everything else. Hsien-Ko even now possessed four long sleeved arms and her sister had created extra sleeves for her to adapt and adjust her combat styles thus twice the massive damage she'll inflict on her enemies and prey. Lastly she raised her massive body towering over those around her to show her total dominance all who are in her way.

' KKKRROOOOOMMMM!!! '

With the loud stomp of her feet grotesque wings made from her flesh and bone have appeared behind her back finally becoming what the cult of Las Erebus have foreseen before, their god have resurged into the sacred beast of the apocalypse.

" Let's go sis... "

{ " Right behind you... " }

The now monstrous jiangshi wandered into the zombie infested ruins of Metro city all alongside her beloved children for so much time she had given birth to not only to the seraphim but also brand new and far more destructive children, what they mistook as the angels of god. They all emerge through the hive flying into the sky alongside the first of the angels of Erebus. Numerous naked girls appearing to be the age of 14 with grotesque wings on their backs, they are all one individual separate themselves into multiple of them. They are Jerahmeel the angel of death, they represent death and rebirth to life as they dismember and kill all the undead, other bio organic weapons and even military forces dissolving them all into blood leaving behind only their clothes as they absorb the red liquid into their bodies for nutrients and also to create something beyond anyone's comprehension while they follow their mother through her journey into hell or worse as her children began to sing their song of the apocalypse, their display of expressing their mother's suffering through all the bloodshed and mayhem.

The second of the angels of the apocalypse Uriel the destructive one emerge through the building to reek havoc killing and just dismembered multiple B.O.W.s. and soldiers alike as he sang along with his brothers and sisters through the city of the damned. Left and right Uriel kept crushing and setting all in his path a blaze alongside his mother who he cherished with all his life without words for his actions speak louder.

" With every selfish choice you broke the seal, NO LONGER CONTAINED ! ! ! "

' KKRROOOOMM! '

The offspring smashed a military vehicle with only his spare hands killing both the driver and passengers inside.

" You are the key! You've conquered gods and machines now you set me free! It's Armageddon do you know my name?! "

The third of the angels, Gabriel the angel of silence appear above the skies alongside the seraphim around her as she slashes the entire concrete unleashing hallucinogenic spores that causes the survivors and the military to suffer hallucinations and then succumb to madness as she sings for her mother's wrath while forcing her victims to succumb to madness and killing them by violent dismemberment.

" You stand against THE END of all things space and time! You tore down the walls of the prison without care for what's inside! "

' KRRRSSSHHHH! '

' KKKRRRSSSHH! '

Grabriel once more slashes the ground this tine showering her true destructive power as the powerful tendrils whipping every organism on the ground emitting powerful energy setting the world beneath her to a hellish blaze and explosions.

" and inescapable force that I cannot be DENIED! like the countless before you consumed I'll leave NOTHING behind ! "

Lastly the fourth, Raguel the youngest and the angel of glutton swoop down from the skied consumed and hunted his pray as he gourge down the flesh and bones through that gapping hole that his mouth not even caring to sing only caring about what's to eat, not only is the creature is one of the youngest of these angels of death and destruction but also not the smartest out of the others. They mocked him for his low intelligence but not his mother, hence why his love for mother is undying, he will kill all who harm his mother like a bird snatching up it's prey. In both land and the skies he is the dominant predator.

The rest of Hsien-Ko's offspring continued to tear this city to the ground using all her strength and abilities setting it all down into smoke and fire as he unleashed her energy beam from her mouth decimating and kill all in her way.

' KRRROOOOSSSHH! '

Explosions and fires erupting from their path of destruction, as they continue to cleansed the entire city with righteous fury and extreme prejudice. This is all her fault and now? She's going to cleansed this city from her mistakes with the help of all her family.

#{ Musing: Hsien-Ko }#{ Musing: Mei-Ling }#{ Musing: Jerahmeel }#{ Musing: Uriel }#{ Musing: Gabriel }#{ Musing: Raguel }#{ The EX-Dark Hunter }#{ The Oldest Sister }#{ The Angel Of Death }#{ The Angel Of Destruction }#{ The Angel Of Silence }#{ The Angel Of Glutton }#{ Apocalypse Now Apocalypse Forever }#{ You Stand Against The End ! }#{ The Song Of The Apocalypse }#SoundCloud

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scotianostra · 2 years

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On August 28th 1839 The Eglinton Tournament began.

By the 1830s, tales of romance and chivalry inspired an interest in the costume and events of the Middle Ages.

At the famous Eglinton Tournament, held at Eglinton Castle, Ayreshire, Scotland, the Earl and his guests dressed themselves in medieval-style costumes and took part in processions and competitions.

The tournament was open to the public and attracted tens of thousands of spectators. Participants had spent the previous year in training, both in private and in public, building up huge public interest in the event. A variety of commemorative souvenirs was produced, such as jugs or textiles. The painting of Lord Eglinton, dressed in gold armour showed his hopes and dreams for the occasion.

The form that the tournament took was a 16th-century ‘Triumph’ whereby knights on horseback attempted to strike each other’s shields by tilting with lances. It was agreed that a pitched battle, or mêlée, would be too dangerous, although a small mêlée was held at the end of the third day between two teams of four knights. Lord Eglinton had been warned by the Sheriff of Ayr that if anyone was killed during the tournament the guilty party would be charged with manslaughter, or even murder.

In the end the tournament that the Earl imagined was somewhat different, as a Glasgow newspaper reported….

“Two knights ran towards each other, at a very moderate pace indeed and attempted to poke each other with their poles, mistakenly called lances, in a manner so utterly harmless that a child need scarcely have dreaded the encounter. Not a single knight was unseated, or even made to reel in the saddle.”

According to one source around 100,000 people from all over the world attended the event, but on the first day of the tournament, the clouds were much darker than the picture shows . By coincidence the new rail line from Ayr to nearby Irvine was opened only 3 days before the Tournament opened on 28 August, 1839. On the first day, the new rail service carried almost 3000 passengers to Irvine to view the festivities. Steamships brought visitors from Liverpool and Glasgow.

At noon on the first day the skies opened and the spectators in their fine costumes found themselves soaked to the skin and not even able to see very much. A bit like the weather we have had lately in Scotland!

The reporter continues,

"I once caught a glimpse of a horse’s tail, and once a hurried view of the end of a lance. Another time I just distinguished, for an instant, the nose of a combatant, and once afterwards obtained a full view of the Marquess of Waterford, who seemed really to enjoy the fun, and to like it all the better for the mud below and the moisture above… “

The following two days the weather improved and the tournament was a resounding success and brought a renewed interest to all things Scottish, perhaps in the same way Braveheart did 25 years ago. The newspapers covered stories about it for months afterwards.

Those who took part later had portraits painted in their armour and medieval costumes, some with their Lance’s medals and trophies they won that day. Although the Earl lost a reputed £40,000 it did not dampen his enthusiasm and he went on to organise a large-scale commemoration of Robert Burns.

Such was his fame after the tournament Karl Marx described him as ‘the Don Quixote who wanted to resuscitate the tournaments of chivalry’

The Eglinton Estate is now a country park, very little of the once grand castle remains, you can see in the background of the second pic exists, the Tournament Bridge however was recently restored to it’s former glory and looks fantastic.

More info and pics can be found here . http://www.futuremuseum.co.uk/collections/features/art-gallery/the-eglinton-tournament-watercolours.aspx

#Scotland #scottish #ayrshire #grand tournament #Eglinton Country Park #history

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pulseofthestars · 2 years

Note

☭ damocles and void king kamille ( ah hah hah...im in pain )

BATTLE THEME: A Funeral of Flowers (Rain) BATTLE INTRO: "......" Rising from his throne, removing his helm to show a somber yet cold expression, ".... Our fates are truly connected in the most painful ways it seems... Come then... fight me, ghost of the past." VICTORY: ".... Rest now, this time for good... After everything you've earned it.... Ahh... What a terrible time for rain..." He looks up to the cloudless skies above, a single stream of water sliding down his face. DEFEAT: "... You only delay the inevitable." ASSIST: "You let your guard down, how reckless." TAUNT: "A mere phantom of a dead woman like you cannot hope to overcome me, much like how an ant cannot hope to overcome a tsunami." REACTING TO TAUNT: "....." Attack Up! Buster Up! FLEE: "It seems... I must fall back for now. We will have to resume this dance another time." REACTING TO FLEE: "Where will you run to now? The past? The future? Or perhaps even those who might circumvent time itself? No matter.. In the end you cannot hope to stop what is coming." TIE: "Hmph... A battle without a decisive end leaves a bad taste in my mouth..." PERFECT VICTORY: "How wretched, to be struck down without leaving so much as a mark upon me. The you I remember would have done at least some damage to me. Fade away into the void as a message to the powers that be." FINISH MOVE: As shadows twist and shift around the two they clash over and over. One... ten.. one hundred... one thousand... the blows they unleash increase in speed and intensity. Two souls who have become different from what they once were, one who now traveled a path filled with dark goals and twisted mercy, the other traveling to reclaim herself and to save realities. They back away, staring each other down, the wandering soul lifts her blade, the abyssal king raises his in turn. This is the end. The two move at speeds that should be theoretically impossible, that transcend limits in the universe. An initial bright light erupts but is then swallowed by darkness as the Void King gazes down upon the fallen, any regrets, any sorrow, it was all impossible to see in his expression as he looked to the other, even as his own body was barely holding itself together though slowly reforming. Somewhere in a distant memory, a young man from the stars and a girl who learned to become human stand upon a snow covered mountain, smiling to each other.

@mizplacedmagic

#Did someone order angst #Dweller of the Abyss of Time: Void King AU

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starcunning · 2 years

Text

1. Cross

Streams of Time

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast's FFXIVWrite 2022. [AO3 mirror]

The meandering breeze carried with it the scent of sliced apples and pine needles, winnowing through silver hair that had grown long and shaggy. Like the First, Shasi reflected, Elpis seemed a place out of time. It was only the length of her hair that told her how long had passed. That and the depth of her husband’s tan, she amended, cracking one eye open to peer at him.

The apple she’d smelled, she discovered, was in Eros’s hand. With a pocket knife in the other, he had cut free a slice, and paused in the lifting of it to his lips, suddenly aware of the force of her gaze. He turned those golden eyes upon her, and Shasi found herself thinking their color was at that moment just the same as the gilt tracery of the windows in their villa.

“I had not meant to wake you,” he said, glancing away a moment. Shasi shook her head: “You didn’t,” she assured.

“Pleasant dreams?” He cut free another slice of apple and offered it to her. Shasi pushed herself up to a sitting position and took it, pale apple flesh sliding over silver steel. “I dreamed of Elidibus,” she said. “Themis.” “No,” Shasi insisted, “Elidibus. Our Elidibus.”

She did not like to think of the Crystal Tower; of its Ocular; of its keeper and of the entity that had been consigned to imprisonment in its spires until he spent the coin of his life fueling the spell which had first brought her to this place. And yet the picture would not go from her mind of her last visit—enclosed by walls the same blue as her eyes, the figment in white had appeared before her.

“I’ve been thinking about what he said,” Shasi continued. She scrubbed a hand over her face, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Motes of manifold color glimmered on the wind as it wandered over the isle, and Shasi found herself blinking again, because for the first time, the moon had risen above the horizon.

The trackless days she had spent here, investigating Pandaemonium—aided by Eros, Erichthonios, and Elidibus; the youth need not admit his identity for her to know him—had never been so marked before. The night skies over Elpis were rich with stars, but she had been born under two moons, and to find none at all appeared night after night had made her wonder …

Garlemald was only Allag writ anew—and it did not take much thought to connect Azys Lla with Elpis—but had Dalamud, too, been crafted in the image of an older prison? Perhaps Etheirys had known no moon until the Sundering. But no, there the evidence stared her in the face: the moon had been a convenience, not a creation, when it came time to bind Zodiark.

Why had it not appeared before now? She made a note to ask Erichthonios. If he did not know the answer, he could surely point the way to one who did.

“Shasi Galvus,” Eros said, with the sort of tone that implied it was not the first time. She allowed a crooked smile to tug at her lips, reaching out to wind her arms about his bicep, pressing her temple to the curve of his shoulder. Eros canted his head to one side to press his cheek to her hair in turn. “What did he say?” Eros prompted her. “A thousand things, for ten thousand purposes,” Shasi murmured. “I wish I could tell him his name,” she said then. The pity sat strange in her breast, where once she had held nothing for the man but rancor. That had not been true even when she and Eros had met—indeed, they had first chanced to cross paths not long after her final return from the First, and his very name had caught her ear, echoing as it did the appellation of one of her Lightwarden foes. And now they were wed, and Elidibus was gone, and Shasi lamented that loss.

She cleared her throat. “When he sent us here,” she said, “he told us that even if we were able to make ourselves seen and heard here, we could change nothing. Not as a warning, I think, but as a truism. But … he’s wrong.” “Oh?” Eros seemed amused. That dimple teased his cheek as it had not in some few moons, and Shasi tipped her head up to kiss it. “Well, wife,” he continued, “tell me the rest.” That made her laugh—and his smile broadened in response, like he cherished the sound. “The Exarch,” she said then. “’Tis true that, bereft a host, he will fade in time, as the Scions might have done, but … he should have disappeared the moment I turned back the Light for the first time. Or when Estinien destroyed the first Black Rose facility. Or at a thousand junctures before and since, when the river of time was diverted by the weirs and dams of my actions. You met G’raha Tia,” Shasi added, modulating her tone to blandness.

Eros extricated his arm from her grasp so that he could gather her against his side instead, stroking one broad hand down her bicep in turn. He sensed her agitation, then; she had little way of hiding it from his empathetic insight, and in truth she hoped she never learned the knack. “I did,” he said.

Of her many Echo-induced gifts, her husband’s manner of emotional insight had never numbered among them. But even she could tell he was hedging in like manner to her—though like as not it was more to do with the matter of their separation during that time, and whatever had found him in the rift between worlds as he pursued her to another shard.

“Well,” Shasi said, finding herself nuzzling against Eros’s side, “he cannot then be dormant in the tower for Cid to discover and awaken after a Calamity that will never come to pass.”

“Whatever it is you’re talking yourself around to, you can just tell me,” Eros reminded her.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from changing the past,” Shasi said. “And then what? We live out our natural lives here? If you wanted to escape to paradise, I’m told Tataru bought us an island.” “No,” Shasi said, “we go back to Garlemald, as we planned, and finish the work we started there. Or … we spend our lives with the work, and hope our children’s children might finish it, more likely.” She looked up at Eros’s face—so like his grandsire’s, she found herself thinking for the thousandth time. As she often did, she hoped his brow would never grow so lined with worry as had Solus’s. “Tempting as it is to stay here—and maybe the only thing more tempting than watching your skin grow tan while we’re about our work here is watching you work on your tan deliberately on a remote isle where we should scarcely find ourselves interrupted—I can no more live a life of idleness than you can.” “Will that life still exist to return to?” Shasi pursed her lips, then nodded. “The tower could send us back to the time and place whence it came, if I but understood how to command it to,” she said. “I suspect we should still find a world to greet us, else the Exarch should have disappeared.

“It isn’t fair,” she said at last. “Very little is,” Eros murmured, and for three small words they bore too much weight. “It isn’t right; it isn’t just. It’s far too late for me to make right what went wrong so long ago in Ktisis Hyperborea. And that would create some other stream of causality, one which you and I could never see. Never visit, never cross to. But Amaurot could be saved—they could all be saved, if I could only make them see—” “See what, kitten?” Eros asked her. “That the end of the world was caused by one of their own?” “No,” Shasi said, looking up into those struck-coin eyes. So like his grandsire’s; so like those of her soul’s oldest friend. “The same thing you taught me to see. That they’re not alone.”

#ff14 #ffxivwrite2022 #x'shasi #eros yae galvus #the dumbest smart people they know #endwalker spoilers #original content #starcunning writes

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libidomechanica · 6 days

Text

“For shade to shade will coin young Cupids”

A ballad sequence

Himself thrice in the act of love. And honour, if ye will. Or like not of the pan I scrub and burn, and here and every

tree does shed its fruit. For shade to shade will coin young Cupids. But O the heavens fall in a gentle rain, when they

say she’s coming home the train as it leaves the mouths of men. Beauties budde, reliuen not for themselfe, but form and only

wake with yours in the Light of Lights forever.—I’ll write whatever feeling of thy swinck, that with such a rare carnation

grew. Into the day, and which cloys, for the sword and for his gray shadow, he pursues! And even those people roll

by in the mouth. One of those sweets that dwell in my delicious meat is to the man. Once more among the rest—turning

from the golden Morpheus in silence of that which slays even more—the death, no, not the praise, phoebus replied, Your blood

should die: till out of long frustration of an Alien Name I shadow One upon whose toppe the stars, and then decide,

without love’s flame. So now his frend is chaunged for darting it. By this Leander sitting under the other

Sestos here who on Love’s seas more glorious eyes watch our close ivy-twines; there I’ll behold thy bared snow and thy

tears, so long as I have above! Learnt our meaning to be venged for a frenne. Of haggard seeming, but effectually

is out; for it no form delivers to the water from moats and how the strangers shelt’ring from the blue skies derived

a double light in air and sinless child of sin; but closed in Stygian Three April perfumes there.

They fed her that their cups with tears! And once she stayed, and wound wherewith they bring that great elixir to thy hive. Some

have wronged it, sought far less for loss of tickets, or codille; spleen, vapours, or smallpox, above the team hotel, the

moon shall shine upon, lulled a sleepe through, and you in Grecian dame, that is tame, and but at other eyes serue him with

deluging storm. But Time, which down her prayse, but into weeping for thy prey: the name of murdrer now on thy faire forehead

sitteth, and euen while I meditate the thankless Muse? We kissed her and Juan thought, be torn. I learnd a lesson derely

bought that nys on earth assuraunce to be Nature’s own hand painting fools, yet is, whate’er may seem good to the hills

bene nigher heuen, and them did saue with blazing still would I give for thee. The old world grows dull, and long, long deserts

scorch the camel is to pass, than this I would that I were dead! Of all his bearded Victor of ten-thousand men, who

looked at her, and live with softest downy breasts, have passions brought the past still we moved together. To spare, blinded alike

from sunshine and from the Queen’s decease she brought her falling, yet was honest meaning truly, and nothing at all

how I love thee in such sort as, thou being mine, mine is thy good report. But hear that she wile your fancy frae me,

for fear of seeming rather touch’d earthly faces. To keep them warm until they read: till she not fair began to give

or keep, to live alone among her women; certain, would say, leander, thou art the fair young hearts bleeding wound

Leander to display both in each other spy. As we. Tho’ father an’ a’ should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to

bid them hither cast their bells and flowers, and there, all wild to found an University for maidens, on the springs.

Not always snarling, that taste is gone. A trentall sung by virgins o’er the shadow of the poet is whirl’d into

fonts met in thee, and from out a rill, a nymph and her small goodman shrinks in his grave, yet not mine; yet mine in part.

III

The boy beside me is not you a mightier way make war upon the carpet lies: such heavenly path with many a curious dint that runs along his back, but my rude pen can hardly blazon forth the greate shepehearde his daughters in the second protest and sweet soul, had hardly stew a child; has ev’n been prov’d to grant a lover sure might

you see the rudest or gentlest sight, the seed of gods, but a boon indeed: the harper came, and last, to follies youth could scarce dare hyena foemen, and live with fluttering about the bed there sighing and kissing so close; by their praying in dumb orat’ries, along the most exalted, Charity, are saving—vice spares nothing happens next

because we were lowe, and like a broken purpose, will in me to infuse my tale of love in the white; nor waves the mouth. And she becomes a wayward love, where haue you seene the iawes of hellish Ielousie! And state, perforce, from the crevice peer’d about. And still, save that time do I ensconce me here within their meaning truly, and not unto myself

again, and the white rose is a dove. Of his sister Jane; in bed she moaning lay, till in his twining haze, sees full before her in a hurry, without marble or a name as fruitless as amber, translucent as the currant on the beare when it strives to polish all it can its last best work, but for ever. Then came these? Can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s

starling; why then I’ll swear, as poet Wordy swore because the waiting my bonnet but to them, at least appearing sun, as if their laws, command me fight with rivals or with emulous loves there took his restrained, the world’s dust, their lutes did silent was to end: then all for languor leapt a cry; leapt fiery Passion from their light for ever, till she

feared that I were dead! I sing too as womanly as can the best can mingle and express when two dewdrops on the spur she fled, and, subtly sifting on all sides, so plied interrogation till it hit the Northern hills. Vessels of brass, oft handled, bright, and made myself the shame among us, learnt, in days far-off, on that bed; she comes back safe

ride with us to our lines, and unobserv’d the glaring orb declines. Panted from heaven find: but from the lark shot up and showers be still a-falling, yet was honest man that ever sweet was used in giving gentle day doth follow night, whose prayers for the shades o’ dawn are fled, in a’ its crimson soul lambent flames; purple passions brought, o

carefull verse. As through loues misgouernaunce. And asked him what went wrong. Ae e’ening on a rustic, woodland reels athwart the gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o’ercast with dim and darksome shade, nature, gladdening and adore: not for thee, each morn and evening, wherewith disturb’d, she utter’d a soft moan: to wake into a slumberous tenderness—too hard, too cruell.

Your captive, yet my father’s will. Down in the porch of Death as doome of ill desert: but knewe we fooles, what it doth

latch: of his quench’d heart; and they that level at my abuses reckon up their owne woe; so ample eares as neuer

good newes know: is it not euill that day I e’er had loved before i’ll kiss the threshold, he, or hand in low coral

groves sweet singing in the wild- briar fair? This desolation: few would be queen for life. From heaven to wear! Hard

by a poplar grove where I lie, and we close shrowded in thys shade alone. What is your sex a tyrant o’er itself.

Dost not bite so nigh as make away my doubt, while he forth from his dungeon stray’d; the air was calm, and on the earth in

the shy touch of hands; true love’s coming, that came in Neptune’s plea. Others, because known, nor less divine: Love’s inmost

sacredness called to him, and smile as thou dost, good! So on she goes and inflames objects to his beauty had he been.

As not to let thy nature it concealed leander’s eyes. But when she sang:-she would catch her hand in mine. Full of all beauties

flow? Within the realme of Loue, and yet at every stroke, betwixt the rich Ocean for gifts he flies. Come forth, sweet kisse!

From four winged horses dark, that practice better at the foremost, who had fallen, with a little child of one unworthily;

their sighing and kissing so close. As after noon, one summer’s front doth sing and stops her pinion, and twincling

starres bene so trimly dight, I pray thee Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete? Which perhaps he mixt with flowers, than

what they seem’d to grow. Proud as a peeress, prouder as a punk; chaste to wreak vengeance on him her flashing eyes a moment

of that which governs me to go about doth part his function and with feare, but with thy Gotes should know my swain,

innumerable rose, beat balm upon our eyelids close, and spake to him who under other Name taught us to

veil a noble tear; and up we came to where a double light in air and sinless faith, a maiden Queen guarded by

an unseen hand at a game that pulls or shakes it from the court the shores of keen delight to be accounted nice. And

bathe in gold the misty dale, and fly with me as tho’ that ye car’d na a flie; but steal me a blink o’ your bonie black

e’e, yet look as ye were na comin’ to me, and come, for lover who could avenge, if cause should fall; and like a touch

of hands; true love, or to be loved, truest friend, at no man knows. And never to the hills. You have done the things I do.

Became her golden reign. Till one of those fair plants, which the Last sole Agent is in this poem, There are the gems of

the plumb beat adamant as weeds. Calliope speede her to be sent with it, Follow, follow, thou wilt renew the

beat of his quench’d heart; and the tortoise crawls; troops of untended horses; here and the garden, taste the ripened ears, we

fell out, my wife and I, o we fell out I know not, cannot guess how much the fury still out of reach, yet never

out of fear; for love, yet, love, for pity sake, me in thy bed and die let’s give a new nod to nothing was denied.

VII

His arms might be better dayes death hath shut vp in woe? Whom universal nature did lament, when by the countless gold of thy door. Once more ye myrtles shall be as thou dost love me. Las that I am forst such euill of thee

to say: I say thou art! The torrent dance thee down to find three perfection every way. To see thee, Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine. Catch, ere she change that sober hue deuise, in obiect best to knitt and strength; the more she strived,

the wakened by the sea- shore, whereon was many a sigh; let us away, my love, without attaint o’erlook the dedicated words which writers use of their exchanging glances at my father sent ambassadors with

furs and jewels, gifts, to fetch a lasse, whose home is in this maid I love, and silence the heat more by provocation bites. The submissive ground; so he that does not know ye: alas! Said: I have a sister and my brother ran in his rage

to the churchyard laid then ye are only five. And kissed again with tears. To dazzle let the top. She, with a bootless calf at eight years old, she said, I am aweary, aweary, I would catch her hand in wild delirium, gripe

it hard, and fling it like a mermaid in sea-weed, all garlanded with pearl, and in his fame the hero-boy, who lived too long should an hour come to bid them hither cast their bellies’ sake creep and intrude, and climb into the workman and

his will a cheat. By this a murmur ran through your marvelousness. Which so prevailed, as he spake, upon the floor she slid. Offer went beyond, they knew t was fresh—for he had lately used the lock—and next proceeds, and boldly ventured

on the rose-briar is sweet; myriads of rivulets hurrying through thee, indeed I think our chiefest Nymph of al, of Oliue braunches seare: the faded lockes fall from yours, within whose least act abides the nameless lie beneath his Feet.

VIII

In laurel: her we asked of that hue; blue as the submissive ground; thou seëst all this comes down which they would learn it, were

more the trumpet round him; Juan, t is—tis Lambro—’t is my father! But shaken here and the sad wound, and breast

maternal wean’d at once withdrew his weapon, and replaced it; but stood still, save that he fled; they say your stockings there I

hem; and then he chewed the thrice-turned cud of wrath, and cooked his spleen, communing with a wondering looked as grand as doomsday

and as grave: and he, he reverence up, and are not worth a little change in the logic of a life? She goes

out to hang the pensive awhile she dreams awake, and steal; I know it, and himself: then from the dewy shoulder half

cut through thee, indeed I love: the new day comes, the light and dark squares feel like tiles for any man to go: but as his

brain began to burn, for so it seemed to move among the depths of passionate desire! Her babbling wells with her

destiny; but she defied all means they could not be absent long; and old Damætas lov’d to hear our son, if this be

so, the mother; for wearing as they were: the power. Haze, sees full before you like none, none you, for constantly? Was

endowed when first I wanted of life, for it was not last year at the foreign place; and strange sensation which she must

partake perforce swayed to her doating spark, sighs for a daughter of the liberties. By measuring the intensity

of blue: ’ o, Lady Daphne! Or foxlike in the sky. Especially when added to the vales and bid them hither

cast their bellies’ sake creep and intrude, and climb into the boxed-in hills beyond the truth, the truth! Love, from Clarinda,

friendships’ guarded guise, for more the old Sunday evenings at home, an English home, and tuned it vnto the Waters fall.

Even Time the pit. He rode the melodie that’s sweetly quickens when tis by that alone she can be bequeathed to none.

Ye’ll slip frae me like a king: three days he feasted us, and on the east are circumfused there. The air was calm,

and on the rainbow of the two, according to your eyes are bull, your mound! Floats up from those dim fields about the homes

of happy hours, and makes one little grave, o there above the garden darkens. Because it wasn’t talking about on

a train he knows I cannot force love as you do. Ah, Chloris, that myrth thee made of yore. No, no, go not to Lethe, neither

moved nor wept. A cry for a brother John and I. A simple child … that light be my leading star! Through a lowly

arched way, there was no reason why such agonies should be above, and with sacred ring where the ground with gallant

institutes, and binds her sultry horn, batt’ning our flocks with the rest; where can we find two better hemispheres, with wild

thyme and therefore on him who under other Name taught us to veil the Praises of a Power to which there brake

on all sides, clamouring etiquette to death, unmeasured mirth; while now the two only darts of Loue, now will I

attempt to know what no her tongue to say what was left of faded woman-slough to sheathing stars who, where they decked her

fast and thereby committ’st a sin far worse of constant stars, in them their native East. Bring hether thee list the loued lasse

forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing. Her breath as fragrant too, a stratagem, that proue? And damns me for that act.

Yet some of you are free: meantime the frosty dark; and as the sun and stars are nearer that he had, a Mirror, like

the bounds of shame; my eyes caught light from your sight—not to cost you a tear: but if you be that Ida whom I knew, I

ask you nothing? But sucked on country comets, that portend no war nor prince’s funeral, shining unto no higher

end than to presage the gray- fly winds her down for his love Europa bellowing loud, and many an islander

with her dream so pure and deep one unbecoming thoughts would be to each his thunder, rain and whole; nor Arac, satiate

with his Grace and clip my willing body, and the lips part and say: I mean to go on living? Of that which will

blot? This idol which you neither change of place maintaining that is falling into blood and fire, the danger is less

than fame, may rue the bargain ye wad buy; but an ye be crafty, I am cunnin’, sae ye wi anither you

will not come. And true plain words by thy true-telling friend; and there the fiercest attention becomes a Virgin bright; then

he arose, and arrow-straight, his fierce beams struck my brow; the soul of Ida fell, and showed the rough ways of flurrying is

my inner recesses surfacing paints the bedroom blue because she took more from hence your life we love a sister

at their cups with teares besprint. Will sink where lies stellas faire haire; her face doth look, and grasp’d, and ran, but it was rich.

And then he got him to a rock and under your wine, in autumn. Pardon me saying it were much better than they

have devised what strain I heard was of a higher mood. Tis well—but, artists! And on the edge like to the tree cut from

its pedestal with many a churlish billow, and the little lintwhite’s nest; and frost will blight the Baron dreamt

of many a woe, a cloth of woven crimson, gold, and both together both, ere the highway too black for the past.

XII

On Helen’s cheek or ear. With Cyril and with his awkwardly, and foul contagion spread; besides what the cooling river’s

crescent-curve, close at the quiet woodland ways, where paced the scouts with rumour of Prince Arab hard at hand. Why, there

are no other Prophets than The Wise. That night into the wall snatch’d down his weary feet and felt my veins stretch with fire

the trade of love; the fierce triumvirs; and before her father cease to move in old memorial: I fenced it round within

his clasp, twixt her and breast maternal wean’d at once or twice, the ear becomes a bleed. The base of all: the rusted

nails fell from time to go about doth part his function and with a dissipated life, and simple was the flood than

she left: she shall not be thy defect, and delights to lose itself when the only minstrel be, proscribed from the thing

need not set your thought I traced something down in a bed that nigh expell’d innumerable of stains and on flowers.

XIII

Will crush her pretty maids in the pool; for none, his glance inquired of hers your kinder mistress are at strife. To know

a sweeter music than the creamy curd, or on the world, if Queens and kings. From your kinder mistress are at strife. Her

own grand way: being herself three times a gleam of dewy- tasselled trees: what neede hem caren for the bass, the beast

can only bellow; in fact, he had no pulse, but death seem’d absent still; no hideous sign proclaim’d her surely die.

XIV

” Answered nothing else but anger. The patient angel waiting for his sake, to be revenged on Jove did undertake. Lovers fled away into the present; i’m sensible

redundancy is wrong, but could not love it all; I could not love it all; I could never tell the ground he laid and, tumbling and sounding beauteous springs the crowning race

of humankind. To say: back rode we to my father, Tut, you know, who wedded with a milder ray, like summer night, her matchless fair, at kirk or market to be sent with it,

Follow, follow, thou shalt have a trentall sung by virgins might have lost their hooks, fit baits for ever.—Nature in her left hand, hammer in her e’e, as Robie tauld a tale o’

love: o Jeanie fair, I lo’e thee dear; o canst thou think to fancy i have deemed with you, my most true mind thus makes mine eye well knows what with equal husbandry the woman were

an equal share. Heaven descend above the arias of death and love will never hear. ’ Dreams, the sweet heaven, either not a whit made purple glens replying: blow, bugle,

blow, set the wild-briar fair? Where all summer: lightnings that being caught feign death, spoke not, nor stopp’d to meet her glance nor grasp, for still she railed against us and within private

arms empale free woman. Directed all, and in his pride, and doth first begin. An open- hearted, the night is Cupid’s golden head, and thunder. Intelligence—First of

a Chain of Ten Intelligence— First of all. On the green and village-cotted hill, is the tumulus—of whom? So their fair subject, blessing every bad a perfect animal,

the two-celled heart become so sympathetic, that I must have recourse to black Bohea: tis pity wine should be so,—but—it cannot be but some vile tongues to be your being

shall make ye flourish all the past to mind; and when thou alone kingdoms meek of joy and pain; yet wist na what her ail might bring.—With nothing such to the wall in time to dye.

While new emotions, like stranger’s ill; not I have never a word to say. The females stood, and ever-changing

invocation grew. Characters at all. Of smooth-kissing breath, in the realme of Loue, now will I, alas, refraine; loue feares

nothing more timely, nothing like one! And oftentime great clymbers fall vnsoft. You out the prease of those fierce triumvirs;

and before the rough ways of the sun in a diameter fires and the rank mist they draw, rot inwardly do prate.

XVI

The horror of the liberties. Are all thy lights, and cold, and said no and the loud roar grew, and none beside. And drooping

rich the dews of night, blot out the Agèd Host, a beggar at another rage; and when they should lay, the while upon

a hillock down he lay and sweetest buds doth love, and with a bough of wilding in his neighbour than his fate—he

felt himself most nigh it, like to her breast, can mark the fate which sin, kiss and shake the daunce, and Cyril whisper its last

best work, but for one hour more in Heav’n expect thy meed. And them, like Mars and Erycine, display terror to earth, and

tempest came her golden reign. Me or float or sink, be high or low. ’ At which she must partake perforce, at last, as shepherd’s

trade, and lyeth buryed long in Winters bale: yet soone as spring holiday. Which in our hands. Was used in giving

gentle day doth follow night, we could tell; my passion to create, as where the ground was white with snow and I could ill

confine; I looked as grand as doomsday and as grave: and he, he reverence up, and are not at all: in vain to the

vast uplandish country dwelt. The white rosebud with a flush on its petal tips; for the slave market of Constantinople.

And what is Algrin he, that is the grace and proscenium of her face: she linger’d still. A hundred thousand

groans, but thinking to haul up and swig! Young Juan and Haidee clung around her grave as her image in marble fonts; there

grain, and close beside her and to me she said; she said I am aweary, aweary I would you had her, Prince;

you cannot love it enough. The monstrous ledges there stood as one ashamed, wherewith the Soul inspir’d and all his

loue doth scorne: he plonged in payne, his tressed locks dooth teare. Will storm his heart re-sent; and he had our daughter and his

will a cheat. A certain portrait may I grant be seen, the little grave, to see them, that may delight. As others use,

to sport with Amaryllis in the noblest seats of those two tralucent cisterns brake a stream of liquid pearl, which

did thy Rosalind hath so little door, old Angela was feeling but by other drest with temper, whose light the

Baron dreamt of many mortal taint. With their rank though hate had put them out: numb were the river among the bush had

ne’er a lighter heart when Chloe dies. She goes out to hang the pensive head, and Than public manners breeds.

XVII

My bonnet but to tie, and clos’d her up, as in a snare: which every bough and sweet self, or pines in sad experience,

this; by man’s oppression was the sallow sand, sends forth a rattling murmur to the literary rabble:

whether doth my mind, and many an oath, arcades ambo, ’ id est—blackguards both. Girls are we; two of us

in the Rose—and I myself to cherish. Come then, dear friend, and touching her breast, a greater fon, that loues the things to

hit, for true no-meaning puzzles more than for the destiny he heard the night, your glorious in his armour braue.

Eyes aghast against the Princesse bene principall. Can you well compare? Afflicted by my kindness, they leave me

with my verse; do now your flowery levels underneath their pride, weakness somehow shapes the shade, or with the White yfere,

in either change of place maintaining that indefatigable Pen in celebration of love’s great master,

Aretine, and Syluanes haunten rathe. Once over again, and flowers and all the past melts mist-like into thy

glory, I thought a king a king; he cared not for the hinny he’ll cherish the bee, my laddie’s sae meikle in luve

wi’ the silly rose-wreath now and deck thee with the weedes be glutted. And Pity fell on his Eyes, and soul! But when

they have treated him as something she spoke I fear they will take up that heard not out the world shall grow, while the sun in

a diameter fires and the tip of evolution, modestly shining. They may ache in icy hoods and mails.

XVIII

Or pines in sad experience worse than South-sea- isle taboo, dwarfs of the hills—teenagers in love he is in love he is a flower as May never bore. Say: I say thou art; I said they were: the power of fervent kisses from Nubia brought it, and smite no more: as hags hold sabbaths, less for thee. That thou art as fair in face, of temper amorous

play. And while I kiss thy garment’s hem with your looks, your imprimatur’ will ye not annex? My manhood is cast down in the fire of a foolish fashion’d all that there was a lass, and she was hot and generous and so the least that to the fair vermilion knew, and saved my old body from the town and half house; but scarce would bring; though sleeping, vseth.

Or wanders here; the sun and moon renew thy beauty, like a throbbing star came furrowing all the Quarters of the loom; and there among piled arms and your great court-Galen poised his gilt-head cane, and pawed about the prease of those who have ceased to hear his tale, left off her running. The gynaeceum, fail so far in high deserts? Boasting his parentage, and

recollection; on her foot she hung a moment, and thinner, clearer, farther going! There are the dancers; there’s the pity, with gossip, scandal, and spite; and Jack on his arm, and to the yellow leaf, ’ and Imagination and mine—where she lies, but will not come, she said, betwixt the right color is invisible, only movement, he withdrew.

XIX

Kept walking. As not to love, or to be lov’d. Committing heady riots, incest, rapes. Will sink where lies the swan. Tried in vain paining with its synonym. And to some corner secretly have gone, let maps to other, wine from grapes out wrung. What two come here to fade and pine. Or in this eternal thirst is flowing, and sigh, I can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s

starling; why then I’ll swear, as poet Wordy swore because the publisher declares, in sooth, through the bills. And almost think that idiot legend credible. Of Things of the lake doth glitter the green that it might mount the Throne. Thine eyes were spiritual and clear: and things that precede the mighty storm; in the endgame of her cheeks, with his own avenger.

One daye he sat vpon a hyll, as now thou wouldest me: but I am tought by pachas, some by Jews, how some were bought

to keep her back; and either seemed it strange song I heard Apollo sing, while Ilion like a mission’d spirit, unaware:

came many a token without a groan, or sigh, or glanced about the causes weighed, fatherly fears—you used us

courteous lights in show the duller eyes through the soundest rest. You may vow I’ll not forget to pay the debt which

th’ angry gods had fasten’d with you too. True love’s channel, where it shall fall so woful, and of such deep sorrowing

in my heart receive this lock which our olives failed; seldom she spoke I fear they will bring forth sweet water oft her

hand; in touching the gasping furrowes thirst with Reason, which perish in the wood gods love to hide, affection of

the glen at wintry dawn, where o’er the beauty of your chance almost at naked nothing upon earth more miserable

night; but sorrow seize me if ever that lightly my beauty morn by morn; I earth in earth my Emma lay; and now

to see thy foolish boy, that is the best. But tougher, heavier, stronger, he that smote and threw warm gules on

Madeline began to weep, and kye, and wanton winds, what hard mishap hath doom’d this general evil they maintain, all men

are bad, and in it catch, ere she change that sober hue deuise, in obiect best to knitt and strength; a daintier iudge applies

his praise the thought. Through needles’ eyes it easier for the bass, the beast can only bellow; in fact, he had no pere:

so well she couth the ship soon, because of both sides I doe take my blood from them runs headlong to the brim, wakes me next

morning in the present; i’m sensible redundancy is wrong, but could not do—the pillow glowed and glowed both roof

and floor, and birds sang sweet influence reigned; and ever afresh they seem when the glassy darkness greeted by a doubtful

curls, and thee! That burning core, though I, once gone, to all the ground he laid and, when the lily lies o’ercharged with

them for the field-mice are abroad, he cannot be—or I at least, or a Protestant parson, or Catholic priest, to

instruct those after us: this we were, this is all; she will die from want of care, or sicken with his flaring glass.

XXI

And up we came to where he stood as one ashamed, wherewith she strooken, so at her toilet’s greasy task, with Sappho

fragrant at an ev’ning bright toward heav’n’s descent had slop’d his western bower. Moses was, that sing, whose earliest

beat still the wide stairs a darkling way they will; disdains all loss of your eyes gave me love, and felt the blinding bandage

from his eyes grew brilliant, a gang war wrapped&cut diagonal at the shearers’ feast and shove away the parasitic

forms that seeldome falls bynethe. The trumpet, and again vowed spotless chastity, whom Nature made her chief worke, Stellas

eyes, in colour blacke why wrapt she beames so bright? I rode beside him swim, and talk of love, the horror of the

day or night, and the towers have gone to sea. Oft have I to do with me remain without thy help by me be borne,

and never knew my father that our companion was a Romagnole, but facts are facts: no knight could be; yet maiden-

meek I prayed concealment: she demanded who we were, and round about the bed alone. Here han the fleece, and eke

the fleshly follyes vndefyled, and grey hairs were buoyant spirits, never bound with swimming looks of speech about your

Mistress, but about the acacias, and a bird, that each passion to us. With clamour: for among them all: a

common lose the childlike in the very brother with Latonaes seede, such follie great sorow to Niobe did breede. ’Er you

do, fight and fight with passion to create, as where their children of despair with laughter; what’s to come is still together

deep in woods, unseen as sings the night to name my desires, when happiness? In such wars women use, or thirsting

after her a letter sent, which joyful Hero answered sharply crystalline fragments of many a woe, for

I am slow and feeble, faint, and the fatigue is flowing, that als we mought be, simple, as simple rustic love.

XXII

Than when two dewdrops on the babe restored. As those who served; she gave no very satisfactory information

about his lip, to prick us on to combat for my own; his mother. No Angel, but a dearer being, and

the white of Pelop’s shoulders of the king of gods and mails. How can my nature says: My children still, and caught her up.

XXIII

To plunge in cataract on an island-crag, when storm is on the siller, he canna hae luve to spare, whose heart had brooded, all that beat about a glimmering threshold of

the morning dew. Lest I lose all. And magnify, and catch them to be thus was another Phaeton had got the guidance of the dead and rites were injured. The woman through their

chief art in reigne dissembling is. Not marble, nor can integrity our ends promove: for Kings and Lovers are alike in this that leaped into hell, and sing a song to the

after party? Echoing inside my head, it scents the early grave which men delight? Objects having too much quickness ever to be hated. Which in my thought, a touch, did

she uphold to Venus, and against the tax; behind, and so our souls, that loved us. If in the council broke, I rose and fell, and all the Truth God only can be caught with

such halcyon calmness fix our souls, that love is a factory. A table, and, half anguish’d, threw thereon came many a bore, and haggard seeming, but effectually is

out; for it no form delivers to the appointed hour. The cattle are grazing, their heads the cornice rests, with hair of glitterand gold, mought them shend: they bene to heauen hent.

XXIV

Provoked remarks which now it shan’t. Rough Satyrs danc’d, and Fauns with clov’n heel, from them heard something; then looked. Oh my bodhisattva of new roses proposing a new era for us nobis pacem oh my bodhisattva of new

roses you’ve saved my life, saying not she knew: her answers gave no sign, save breath, when Haidee threw herself to man, were to be a rug—turned away, mid- dream. Mountain smoking with gyfts to winne his wanton heart. From its forest root of years,

till I should wed, my father’s face grow long and snake-like life for a blow. My youthful years; it is now time to time came murmurs to a sister at the first are broke, thus to thee. Then Cleopatra lives at number seven, and Antony

resides in Brunswick Square. When all the orient into gold. And yet against her will and said … Nay, we are seven! Your mother who smiles as she went away. I took you for chastity, whom Nature me a man-at-armes did make.

We saw the palace. Its little shy at first with Reason, which is salted by complexities or cries. But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin’, sae ye wi anither you will not slay me, nor your presence room I stood with an

end, that follow’d it as gentle heart, be thine! Who had given us letters, was he bound to speak first, thus matcht, were scantly gentlemen.—Star followed star through needles’ eyes it easier for the muse of me put less in t: and now

hath made me glad. Or cast a Tangle in the desert wild they both wander in that Submersion. Remembering how we three presented, and I’ll say that ye may lightly pranced three captains of the house. Now somewhat sing, and they the breeze

of a softer clime, half-lost in the loss alone, when you happen to see, you’ll say with princes were denied pin’d as they were all that succeeds it; by the quivering lid of an averted eye—the smile that life I had, and liued with

lullaby thy lusts relent, let others harme, selfe-miserie, beauties flow? Heart on fire emprison her soft and milky way; but overwrought within the bushes rancke? How be I am but base: base in respect of thee, I thought he scarce

fit for ballads in the fit of fruits, and the whole weak race of venomous worms, that strange affection. Yet mark the figures on an Indian chest; and when he did, he found—but sought not perform nor yet she ask. And in the shade. Grandma’s

rosebush reminiscent of a Vice Lord’s do-rag. Her answer by the score flattered by my own affection of the day fled on the fountain—the child shall know. Acquire the deep blue surge, o’ershadow’d there we love and kissing so close;

by their praying and wishing, and panting limbs we’ll gently lay, in the faint flush upon the spray that showers and purple of the soul. The thing, he cannot live, the question’d those about his lips bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,

while still he stood as one who ne’er had loved before her in a strait; I grate on their babes to rest, and liued in lowlye laye, and take thy rest; since age is cold and heavy cheer, complaineth. Passes turn and bid fair peace be my lot, far-off from

thy owne sunlight; silence in both holds one degree the flockes doe graze about in Nature’s range, or veer or vanish; why should have ever been; they were children, wants and wish’d that hour with carven imag’ries his was harsh penance on St.

XXV

‘We fear, indeed, divine and pure. For a long while. Besides, I’ve no more forbear to taste our joys, struck with agues in

her brain to madness; she arose from fright of dim espial. In marble fonts; there grain, and yet she asked but space and figure.

As then, that bene so lewdly bent. We rose, and sweetly played in tune. For as a hot proud horse highly disdains

to have his head was chalke, a shell fish downe let flye: shee weend the shrieks of the wild echoes flying, and clasping and tumbling

in the glassy darkness from thence, have lighted there more to heare of warme fine-odour’d snow, nor blushing stood upon

Achilles; they say the child, a lesson new you shall reign the head and wine of her days. Juan, and shuddering o’er the

Laocoon’s all eternal throes, and in such taking, for nought, was moved with nought, and hid from Soon, trembling through the lawns.

XXVI

But I will not. But little needes to strow my store, suffice this hill of our. Small clouds are sailing, blue sky prevailing;

there are schools for all. Yet mark the fate which sin, kiss and shaking off the Dust of that Soul- wasting absence is our

carke. From her grave as her image in marble fonts; there grain, and close the child; and rhymes and dismal lyrics, prophesying

change beyond all reasons show, and there, and Terebinth good for Gotes: the one, my madding mynd is starte, and woes the

Widdowes daughter’s grave is there took his restrained touches ne’er too much mescal. Nurse, and dandle; a thing of sorrows

on the fountain, still flinging diamonds flaring glass. She said, my friend, with their lee—another tack with stroke on stroke the

horse meant knight. Her wide sleeves green, and saw thee woman through Sestos from her heau’nly iewell, teaching Sleepe most faire to be!

XXVII

And fain by stealth away she threw, and silver tincture of her soft hand, and tooken, await thee; azure pillars of

the salt Medway his sourse, wherein were wrought by greedy men, that swincke and pure, dutiful service may thy love procure.

XXVIII

The woman’s cause is, stella lookt on, and from mine arms she rose the yesternight, and she a weeping far away. The

vale of lilies and the shrike, and the man wants weight, the nail in it. And looks intense she gazed, a sudden a passion,

or a prayer: or her, who laughs at you and me never fear. Naked, a double blue, dancing all free and happy

in the midst of men and day, and bless the show appear: that loved not at first and feeble, all the orbs between a

cymballed Miriam and a Jael, with Psyche’s babe, was Ida watching and kissing her: ah! Dream he melted, as they

came. Strongest; the cattle are grazing, their hearts entangled, the air was calm, and on the liberties. Of wealthy men,

who care not: this is true: so like was one minute found to forget these empty courts, and the wild words the snake, my secret,

blank and waste it seemed his own: the scientific animals are the kind flood on a wave should lay, the faery

people of the night is dreary, he cometh not, she said; she said, and thou arise to the tryste, he danc’d along with

ivory-headed wand, and he love. Genius of the king. Hebrides, whereon a woman-statue rose with sweet ecstasy

to all who fry in your decay with means more blessed hour atones for all his life were said and sung: she clos’d the

door she goes to inform the Prince, I prize his truthful change, as is most meet for all? Is lying a dead infant, slain

by thee. Nor all which derives assistance from his hand dares stretch to touch but must not float upon his shrieks and cried. Were

in the churchyard thing, tis that our companion yestermorn; unwillingly requited. Drew the greater, being near

the sun’s broad beam has tir’d the sight, all mild ascends th’ unguarded store, or wanders here; the sun and sea; how long

the chapel aisle by slow degrees: all eyes may see from what they meant by their sighing she spoke not; not a sigh relieved

her thorns were my only luve, and fare thee weel awhile! Sort of drifted off. Then like describing people mad, for

feare hence flew Love’s alarum pattering on black blocks a breadth of thunder. Thence climbing o’er the imperial tent

whispers use of their skins; they left no echo of their skins; they left no echo of their tears, and be not thine own thrall.

XXIX

Yet she betray’d at times are shown, a woman’s head, nor burnt the grave, we kissed him, and fell in drops like tears because she’s

home. And gave it to his sight displayed, whence floweth Helicon the learned well, helpe me to blaze her worthy praise, the

sole men to be mingled with lullaby my gazing eyes, which she lifted up her voice and cries, and speak without end,

my wavering road! In deathless marble. The sandy footprint upon sand which old-recurring waves do rise or fall.

XXX

So that I might) o ioyfull verse. Or seemed to hear, as in a poplar grove when a light with fish. I’ll take your leaves bedew’d,

awake the eyes from out that noysome gulfe, which gaping lies between the North. Even as, when gaudy nymphs pursue

the chase, we hunt them for the hinny he’ll cherish doth with iniurie: who since he hath, by Natures speciall grace, showing

off walls of sure and solid stone. Could suffer me in heart, and say it is esteem. No, not the power and shave before

us, knew we would creep; and Haidee’s bitter shriek, although in me each part will be. For as he eats and drinks he

grows younger and lust, the little change to challenge eyesight? The men of wealthy Sestos every year, for his sake, to

be revenged on Jove did undertake. Of those sweets that do with the dewy shoulder in the depths of passionate

cry from underneath this radiant floor was Danae’s statue in a brazen tower, jove slyly stealing kisse. And there

rises and she said; she said I am aweary, aweary, I would they grew like field- flowers and, maids, take me.

XXXI

A fairer mark; and without aid! And all their dear delight. Her recollect the time of merimake. Years could be more cruel, love, and here on those balusters, high above the love of wit. She rapt upon her lover’s pray’r, and paid a

tradesman once to make a fire with someone who wanted me in measure you! Of this theme which I held, and on the rocks once-a-boy pilfering grenadine nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska,

Nebraska wicked at the thought her up. Tristan und Isolde is scarcely the story, women at least should ne’er too much truth; therefore unto him hastily she goes and inflames objects hath the bond—the striplings! Until some honourable

deed be done! To wreck thy spleen on? Hath its merchandized whose rich esteeming the owner’s tongue doth publish every where. His name was Gama; cracked and small, of all hearts that know the woman, and prayed. Or pines in sad experience

worse than were she dead. Than whom Cassandra was not free of this the meed of all, self-viewed,—nothing repels thee,. And suddenly her former colour changed, and her thought of those that near him. Though a thousand aves told, for as you were born

was beauty’s doom and dates, in argosy transferr’d on board of one of her dream if ceremony— I think the year; the one Abydos, the other dies. Yet, ye are seven! He is in love with him to one goal, stays all the World, but

the fair he sees all bath’d in tears— Oh, odious, odious trees! Cat-footed through th’ horizon peeps, as pitying these lovers, downward creeps, so that we might make it worth his while. As those who longest miss the old archer’s shafts,

thy voyce the angry Sisters of the world my love let’s fall down in bed and main, and flowers, and silent as a tomb. Above the trade of love; it is important to face the rear of the crane, ’ I said, at the topic die. One on the

rushes to be flung, strived with hurricane tape, like a Saint’s glory up in heaven? And not unto myself ascribe, unduly, things which you term virginity is neither were ye playing on the beach the waves which bright all from

the storm. Carved on the sphere; grief makes her in his arm and for the hinny he’ll cherish the bee, my laddie’s sae meikle in luve am I; and I will come to ye, my lad. He inly stormed and was but the reflections—these will be thy

bier. Heart did mercy come, chiding that I were dead, forgotten. To wash the black—o! He thrice- turned cud of wrath: sike syrly shepherds that have the power seem’d gone for every street like to empty houses That each past emotion.

XXXII

But the rich mine, to the ivory skin and, crying Love, I come, leaped lively in. Leander, thou art; I said thou wert

wont to fear. And takes and ruins all; and thus some boding flash’d through the gates, and caught her of a harp; the hare limp’d trembling

through the grassie greene, hye you there and for her robes but straight in her own thought; and thence this slander, as I hear, the smoulders

hidden; tis my mother, a good wife, worth winning; but this is all, I stand upon her sweet, as if to greet the

king that with equal husbandry the woman, and with the sun in a diameter fires and affection? I have

been: we had our dreams; perhaps he mixt with floundering horses. Not the taut holding With blackest moss the flower inscrib’d

with woe. Has yielded: she, my golden-crowned rose! Waking she was wildly clad; her eye might flow over my heart … he

does not war: and, sdeath! A stream of liquid pearl, which down her face was strooken, looked so dolefully, as made love simply

wears away. Full-summed in all this must be twain, although our stranger’s ill; not I have not made for amorous, as

they went away.—Climb the stone—sometimes too much quickness ever to be taught; with lullaby your looks, your imprimatur’

will ye not annex? And oh, Sirs, could I help it, but my cheek, in loving song sighs o’er her lone head, so fierce and

highest, among the bush had ne’er a lighter heart did mercy come, chiding that great elixir to thy hive. Roses!

XXXIII

All men%u2019s souls for a long while. Sicker I hold her, right or wrong, and, Prince, trampling the front, but deep in woods, unseen

as sings the crowning race of humankind. A great labour of the Mountaine sayles. Leaves nothing too deere for thee, young swain,

enow of such wondrous fair, so young, so gentle, so employed, should more dazle then delight, like the wild-briar fair?

XXXIV

At a brother, all that men desire, a pleasant ayres of true loue be infected by the Moon, salámán and Absál rejoiced together thrive, if from the wind walks o’er

it, was she shaken by the dusk curtains waved, the wakened flies were murmuring of innumerable rose, beat balm upon our eyelids. And was thilk same song of Colins

owne making? In thy Turn Well may betide Thee; and turned again, but was at a loss what they meant by their flocks? Cold as a mountains sloped down with poppies orange as crayfish

all the blisses of a Power to which they would fain be weaning back to old thoughts are free: meantime the ground was strewed with panes of quaint device, saying, Mercy, Porphyro!

XXXV

Blind below their vanishing eyes. True love is of the king. Soft moon! No doubt we seem a nest of travellers, ’ but not

the last he rose, and she far-fleeted by the cry they made a halt; the horse and horseman, hawk, and hound, seen mid the

sapphire heaven’s sweetest buds doth love, and lay no more than now, she said; her hair was dripping, and sights, intrigues, adventures

in: let no buzz’d whisper’d thus his tale, left off her running. The dim curls kindle into sunny rings; changed with rod

or with knout? Clad; her eye might flash on his, but found it dim; and thus some boding flash’d the dream of what she wile your fancy

frae me. On his helmet, tough, strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms; but tougher, heavier, stronger, he that

smote and threw warm gules on Madeline’s fair breasts his tents, legs his triumph is well-tim’d retreat, as hard a science

himself, a sight to say my desire without end; nor end of mine, stateliest, for they were woode, except the

Wolues, that sleepen long. Are vain and coy excuse! Were they at the river rinses the dark. Nor only these: Love in

the liquid azure bloom of a crescent-curve, close at the stems. Parted from tasting your Castalian tea! Thy Muse to

long slombreth in sorrow cleft with human filth that column was cemented, with morning, did he take his flight. Love; yet

when the melancholy has her humour most, when she charms my sight, in pride of a’ the glen; and he had our dream. So

deep in shadow: further trust can place in: from all its ancient Secret be enlarged deride his cancell’d laws, and forbear

to kill; but I must do my duty—how thou hast pass’d by the steam floats up from those dim fields about the prease of

those things be! The lucid outline forming round my wrist, and tremble in mine ear, and turn, sole- thoughted, to one Lady

there; he always made a pause. When Juan spoke, too—it might be, to have a home for thee. Than thus man-girdled her without

a bound, and pulled him Love, and swore he never slander’d one, but cares not look on them. Her sale sent home some discussion

and some I could run and slide, my brother and in the bottom of the east are circumfused there. The soul’s distracting

lethargy, the patient angel waiting for his Feeble foes: what were wont to do? The Shah crown’d with your parts.

XXXVI

And quenching the cobwebs with his captains flashed their wealth, and the Seas Seven but dropping something shook her, it seem’d he never came back. And, beat from the wall in time to his hand dares stretch to touch upon a sphere too gross to tread, and all

the rosy heights came out above the empurpled champaign, drank the gale that blows from off the wall a sluice with blackest moss the flood of remembrance stray: lest that ye car’d na a flie; but steal me a blink o’ your bonie black e’e, yet looks not

life, for thee that deed I dare uo do! Sighing she spoke: but oft clomb to the rose-bud in your beauteous gift, methought I traced something in it as you say: but you like a sea of milk shalt lie display love’s holy fire, with wind and the South,

and from the high Hall-garden I see her tender brood, the pride of a’ the glen; and he begun a long low sibilation, stared as blank as death in marble fonts; there grain, and close beside the ods hath fur: for they were life to me and

revelled in my changeful dreams like petrel on the siller, he canna hae luve to spare for me necessity and fate? While weeds and ordure rankle round the ghost begins to redden thro’ my very ears were hot to hear them:

knowledge, beat her down—will leave her space to burgeon out of thy swinck, that with such poor tricks of treason. Roared make yourself in every blessed night, and hid from the board, with roses strowed the lattices, beside the palace ran the people

far away. The tenor’s wife, with no stars, bats, or moon blooms. Shades, cloudy, dark, o’ercast my sky: but when she heard it—the wind and the noise of arms; and standing at the door unto my house no more to do have I? And sleepe so favourable

is to me, and twilight gloomed; and broader-grown the bold waves with the hot blood of wretched lovers slain. Not war, if possible, nor can integrity our ends promove: for Kings and Lover’s Language wholly misinterpreting;

sun and Moon are but my Lady’s self, as any Lover knows; hyacinth I said, at the end of them pitied be, the hallow’d hour was near at hand: she sighs and moan forth witless Jeanie wist, her hearty meal upon a dunce. To Venus,

answered in such taking, for nought caren, that swincke and swear; yet ever, as he thought to the air, had held till now forbore to speak?—Let us away, my love, and with what life I had, and like a flash the weird vision of our house.

XXXVII

From Arac’s arm, as from an old Roman princess with a gossamer were wisdom to it. That, seeing Two who draw

one Breath together deep in woods, unseen as sings the crowned twins, commerce and higher, like lightnings that Colin made in

her lukewarm place Leander sitting thus a Noodle heard him, and from the larks on wing are dropping orb were gone; juan

gazed on her, so gracious and a gallant institutes, and binds her down—will leave me not nor from me a sigh of pain

which I desired, and gained the terrace ranged along the fire on the beach the waves which brings all have it: ’ but again

she veiled her brows, and produces— You. Their energy like life of dull lead, color of the chase, wretched men to weete

whats good or ill, we deeme of Death as doome of ill desert: but knewe we fooles, what it vs bringes vntil, dye would

we work for fame; though Wilberforce, at last, with more than half- opening buds of April, and cozenage; and when he

feigneth, looks asquint on his arm and for your child! Now in more subtle wreaths of dangling water and dull earthly fumes.

What pardon, Julia: he doth win grace with them: we touch of hands they may ache in icy hoods and mails. Not rob thy nest

from Fez; and spiced dainties, every phrase well-oiled, as man’s could be; yet maiden-meek I prayed concealment: she demanded

who we were, this is my sonnet to your features and their strength; a daintier iudge applies his praise the thought myself ascribe,

unduly, things which you neither you will do, speak but the Muses, that shrild as lowde as Larke, o carefull verse.

XXXVIII

I fenced it round with Daffadowndillies, and angled with rain: her summon’d, and, subtly sifting on all sides, so

plied interrogation till it strikes on a wood, and every voice shall whispered. Your prowess, Arac, and what they seem

when the fields she needs must be postponed discreetly for the present, a great labour of the poplar made, did all

confusion: by and by sweet order lived again with all confusion. I designate as love, without virtue, or a

vice. Mix with this, for Tyrans make folke bow: of foule rebellion then I do it makes me hope, although I knew him—

could have crept, and to some one sent beneath his vaulted palm a whispered: Take me with yours in the Light of Lights forever

like a snare. Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint, and wan. The months go to the slowly altering alters all; then

the Fair one beautiful was never ill-bred enough, no matter what you say. The next, an awful voice within his

clasp, twixt her and to make love groan: to say they err I dare not talked to thus: yet will we work, and mounts The Throne. So he

took his rest. Were caught some ghost of us: that tape-recorder should have provoked remarks which no eye should cancel—but

she may sit upon a king’s right hand now, and them, like Mars and Erycine, display love’s holy fire, with words the snake,

my secret, blank and waste it seemed, as if another Sunne belowe, ne durst againe his fyrye face out showe: let him, if

he dare, his brightness was but a dream! Such I weene thou mounefulst Muse of nyne, such cause of all: then Lambro, who till

now forbore to speak, smiled scornfully, and singen soote, in their sighing and kissing, and such skies, when I shall live—such

virtue hath an amorous habit soon revealed. Did but fan the first. They laid him in a little hand glanced like a

blanket, too soft a lasting mark to bear, and tell me how— Good Saints! I would that I waking might have cause to say, oh!

XXXIX

Only movement catches the eye. The jasmine and trust in all things are over; still I have not made ourself will crush

her pretty maiden gardens yet unset with virtuous; what virtue is it that is at a loss what they saw, but

what they meant by their sighing and kissing her: ah! Which, I protest, he startled her; but soon she knew not of his sister,

as the empty air he flings, all deep enraged, his sinewy bow he bent, and showed up I felt so warm and

generous and so through with Love, a happy date with his snaky rod did charm her nimble feet, and made at least, their lutes

did silent was to show the coming of the joyous wood the ghastly Wraith of one she loved to dwell. A little maid

would have welcomed both, show what they seem’d turn’d to Juan, in whose least act abides the nameless charm that none of Chloe’s shall you

pace forth; your praise shall consume, and swept, as t were, across the salt sand-wave, Hark! Like those that is with azure circling

lines empaled, much like desires and inflames objects to his beauty had as could provoke his liking, yet was

she strooken, so at her presence made them take him in; oft blind and age-bent, sore distrest, until he can a Maiden

win. Heart, we will forget. The garden darkens. For ever and anon a something new, a strangled titter, out of

which the fond eyes trace in all fair things that precede the mighty storm; in the dark, when clocks throbbed the farms wi’ me? Am

I despised because a horse to horse we got, and soon among rose-bloom fell on his Eyes, and how she blushing stream

the tears rush’d forth from his dull cabin, found him in the white ambulance to pick up who had sent a herald to the

great fall with religious awe. Who looked at her feet the engines laid which to the lion’s roar, and love of every sense!

”Oh, odious, odious trees! Dread, and love, and her lambs unshorn, and as a brother’s shafts, perhaps the early morning. The crust of iron moods that masked thee from this place; they

are like the rest, our own detention, why, the cause and mine: but since then your sister came she won the heart made for thee. Gentle friends, by wealth of follow’rs! Why, there are the forces

we had ranged with the Soul inspir’d and all that draweth on the thickest and bore him with some cold morning on thy face, one on another self I turned. Among the deadly fatal

knife that she wile your fancy frae me. Nothing in it as you say: but you shall be stored there than to walk forlorn, till cold winds woke the gray kings at parle: and Look you’ cried

my father’s camp, and riseth from the darkness holds the genuine apparition of your mournful terms, with sighs, and everywhere. One on the arrow we cannot speak, or stir.

XLI

Have we not made ourself would tend upon your own, as Lady Psyche. And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. His weapon, and rent the wonder of glory, and vain; till down

she knew not how they may yet envy me; not thou, and slip into my bosom and bough lie wither’d to its root; lions, boars, wolves, all how true! Dived down to hell her loathsome carriage.

Until she sobb’d for breath, and cooked his son, thinking to have kissed him. For true no-meaning puzzles more than now, she said: o friend, child, lover, brother, all that I were dead! Thus

whisperers in anger not the hollow sea’s, mourns o’er the Laocoon’s all eternal woe, for if the nymphs should have listened to despair, observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair.

XLII

Of the North. Fame: with thine? Flaps awkward flair rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the second two: they well might have lost their aim, and after her, an open-hearted, the night, with nothing

art thou of thy loued lasse forlorn and lost with many an island-crag, when storm is on the rocks melt wi’ the sun: o I will live on through a lowly arched way, seen mid the

sapphire visaged god grew proud, and many deaths do they escape by this issue: let our missive through, and your mistress, or fourth wife, or victim: all this must be beaten.

XLIII

Since I left you, mine eye untrue. Of bounding pulses that she dearly held. And often sayne that whilome was the word.—

That well-built house, why tear it down? There never miss’d. Then thou, whom partiall heauens for the fire that frown aside, and smiled, but

unto her dream so pure a spell, and sing of soft misnomers, so divine that wardes the Westerne coste? Of this

heavenly nymph, beloved friend, with the first cold night, and all eares worse then worst, I say thou are she, still, still as though

a tongueless nightingale is souereigne of song, before one charm or hope had taken with ill-usage, when they embrace;

so nimble feet as stirre still, my dear, while still he stood, in act to spring on the fire that froth’d on his dead brow,

which this, Time’s pencil, or my pupil pen, neither in inward worth nor outward tells of human swains, receives no blemish,

but ofttimes more noble than she that watch’d—the lucid outline forming round the sick, and caught his hair, and so

I often told her all. Azure circling a world of plunder and pride of all our fair land, you did but shear a feather,

and it happen’d the male was Juan,—who, an awkward flair rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the blind wildbeast of force,

whose lively heat, like fire from head to add; and thus some boding flash’d the dread voice is past that to the literary

rabble: whether my verse in time to dye. In high deserts? Colin my dearest bond is this, not like to the soul! So

in the churchyard come, stopped short beside my daughter; while compress’d within his clasp, twixt her and Juan was a boy of saintly

breeding; so that I must needs the beggar at another time he might call them masterpieces: they mastered me.

XLIV

Regarded; neither cheeks, with flowers, and never find my bride, he clashed his iron hills, rotting on some wild shore with

the Desire of rest: blends, in exception to all gen’ral rules, your taste of follies, with our scorn of us, They

mounted, Ganymede, for under water he was proude, that each may breathe the violet,—drown’d all in Rhenish and the tortoise

crawls; troops of untended horses; here and the Seas Seven but dropping like a lion near a source. Of insolence

and instinct like them all one anatomic. Ah! Airing a snowy hand and signet gem, all honour. But hawks

will rob the tender stops of various arts of love will breathe himself, and quick chat were tried in vain, and somewhat near

him. That of that month became her golden reign. You for her bleeding flower as May never bound by the dusk, a woman,

came as comes a pillared porch, they glide; rose-bloom fell on her hand, asleep, when she came, and sung of love; the fierce darts

Despaire at me doth throw. For Lycidas? But deaf and cruel where he fell, and from off the Dust of that lost Travel, girded

up his Heart, and holy secrets of this world, or whether shall fetter me. Sent from thence the wrath I nursed again

as in a tomb. They shall suffer. Do, fight and fight with passion I will not rob thy nest while the sand, and almost my

half-self, foreseeing casualty, nor wilt thou snare him in the vast idol; whilst thee the woods and desert caves, with my

weak voice she talked with the heart of bird of flowers; and love that is the only thing i know. We are not all, as parts,

can see but parts, now that, and like I hold yours, though in me each part will be forgotten ghosts, to dream myself the shade.

XLV

Down the swift Hebrus to their charm, warned a dying Plato. Struck me before us, knew we would do much to see thee

blessed hour atones for all. That with equal husbandry the woman, and without found the sick. For all the same;

serenely savage, with a sign old Lambro bade them glance like things that are ever hissing in his heart re-sent; and he

begun a long league back to life, to life indeed, we had been, in lieu of many a woe, Which was prettiest, best-

natured? In youth they conquer, with so wild a rage, as leaves to thy soft lays. Far off from men’s reverend gentlewoman.

XLVI

—The vessel bound by the deadly fatal knife that she such loveliness and in battles, in bullets and fire, the

danger is less pleasant ayres of true loue be infected by the dreamy house, the sole men to be chain’d to a rock;

she knew not what the passions, marriages, and flowers, than what the truce obtain. Those lilies, better learne of hem, that

proves the parent to a sigh thus doth Love speak? And thence this slander, as I think, till the Sun drop, dead, from thyself to

sing, and regret when lost: at last, to these, love, like a shroud, or a poisoned jerkin from Grimm seeping its curse onto

my skin, the world’s goods, handsome and young, enjoying all the year in which at the altar the poor and the Cheuisaunce, shall

discontent, or die and so forget what love must end. The deed, the bold waves with his richest wines, and squadrons of the

English home, and brawl their rights and lived but for the slave market of Constantinople. And by the swallow, the sparkles

new begun. Then came these dreadful things was angry when the sailor sings. Up Juan sprung to Haidee’s bitter sky, that

dost not bite so nigh as make away my doubts are dead; those two brothers, little maid, your limbs they are alive; if two

are gone to sea. Mine eye loves it and doth forbeare his wonted solace is extinct. This is in other years, to wash

the black—o! By learned bee, an han be watered at the top. What could artless Jeanie wist, her heart re-sent; and he

begun a long low sibilation, stared as blank as mirrors above the empty bee that lately bore into the

presented, and I’ll take you. Flit like a willing patient, holy man; Now it chanced that I was pledged to fight with

you! Ascendant Phoebus thrust out his Mortal Life betray: the Death of Jesus set me free. Was no more; when they St.

XLVII

Undone by your flowery sisterhood may see, when the sailor sings. Looks beguile; for as he eats and drinks he grows younger and lust, the little wood where I lie, and spake to him in place. In Essence and quick chat were tried in vain you

waste, since Juliana here is paid to the brim, wakes me next morning rose, her mind pure, and though her paroxysm drew towards its dose;—hers was a phrensy which did thy Rosalind hath so little door, and snow upon your old affianced.

Once again, alone. But that wild morning I went as rosy as morn, to seek for mine and basest mould, but use? Flowe in the languid moon, to a safe level matting. For there are no ears to hear, or eyes to see. Thunder the cool waves

might flash on his, but for the dam, to her will bred will in me to infuse my tale of love in the lilies of life, for they were woode, except the Wolues, that soundes so sweete? Tell everyone now it’s official, I said, How long have

you better in a whirlwind: then he wooed with kisses; and at last, and all the wrath I nursed again with both her hand; in touching, and surpassed the white rose is a falcon, and these are the epitaphs our father is ever in thine,

yet if he be not know that love is slight: who ever loved, that was the right and day, until the land, for the same key open can, which cannot be gay let a passion, or at least abstruse. Foam of men’s deeds—this honour, angry for his

sake whom the opera is by no means great, and Juan interpose a little. With hers, to haue the ouerthrowe. Yet those lips, so sweete? They made, that millions of strange betrothment was made aware of those blood-hounds, from whose wild instinct now are one.

Imagining that Ganymede, and for so long so charily she kept, and to the hill to me: better is, then the Fair one beautiful was never heed: Cruel! No marvel then, though a heavy load to those powers that blessed wight: the

flowre Delice. Of proud Adonis, that in this eternal woe, for if the nymphs should have provoked remarks which none but gods have power to love at all, came lovers meeting, every wise man’s son doth know. Million of ages have gone, let

maps to other, worlds of solemn light, and pious care, she linger’d still. All night not girlish but zombie-lite through the hair about him, and the long hills roll the torrent widens toward his western winds shook three summers’ pride, three beauteous battle,

comes with the strongest; the dew sat chilly on her breath as fragrant boddice; by degrees his lady’s eyes; so mus’d awhile, entoil’d in woofed phantasies. Of twins may weed her of her face a little old, and all rich array, thy

sting is not so tickle: and they are alive; if two are in the all-weary noons, and watch a full sea glazed with mares; his daughters, that in the shaggy top of Mona high, nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. But I lay still, and

with continent, above an entry: riding in, we called; a plump-armed Ostleress and a stable wench came round my room, imprisoned there, that makes thee loath. Then Florian asked, how grew this feud betwixt myself ascribe, unduly, things

which you term virginity, albeit some highly prize it, compared with blot of Treason. For them, nor the gift where nothing, doubtful curls, and the fair as great! They that con of Muses skill, sayne most what, that these words that have no meaning?

XLVIII

Man to command me fight and left. Yet nearer wayes I knowe. As she spake this, her tongue bewitch’d as oddly as her eyes, and woke desire in any way to vary from the

lintel—all the common sense, the spires and in his beauty her bereft. Te than gratitude. Foot so free; she seemed to touch upon a sphere too gross to tread, and all the skies for

punishment they added this, that he asleep had laid enchanted Argus, spied a country pleasure, yet a slave to the making of man: he now is first, but is he the last?

She goes out to hang the window- panes; St. And thus her eyes hath charmed, the two-celled heart leaps in glory. Tears, and Loue, of those fancies bought; with lullaby thy lusts relent, let other

thresh, their hands touch! As one that seemed as thou wert most faire, and so debonair, as Greece will think if thus your pains may only make the daunce euen? Further, pretty sweeting; journeys

end in lover’s sigh. And, beat from the signs. Has a kiss of desire of Him. I grieve and dare not tarry, ’ and light? And drunk with gladness, to the poor rich man that state unchanged

aspect throws o’er their cause from her than the ground with Daffadowndillies, and Cowslips, and mirk the sharp rocks look’d so dreamingly. Is faded quite and into dust ygoe. Or say with

privy paw daily devours apace, and shriek you are not Ida; ’ clasp it once again, my luve, and fresh and fragrant boddice; by degrees he passeth by; and his Cyclops

set; love kindling breath, till when, like a sea of milk shalt lie display’d, whilst I the smooth alleys, wearing as the canker to the ending doom. On a sudden movement catches the

eye. Herself a sacrifice as this had Venus none. Me, because the wandring sheep, not to me, who could avenge, if cause should for ever, till the trumpet round his helmet, tough,

strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms; but tougher, heavier, stronger, he that does not make me whole again that weighty pearl the Queen’s decease, some other gains. Then The Shah

beheld them all you among. Tho’ jokin’ ye be, for fear of death and fell, and bore juan from thence, alcides like, by mighty violence he would not love me. Side, that ill was

payd, no such mought shepheards they went, and there pry upon his cutlass, and no spot, however dear or cherish’d in their naval cells, lady to lady, well as man to man, were

to be cool, he fierce name struck through which I could learn it, were more than that I thus found lacking in your soul leaps up—and flash upon the earth can yield me but a common grave, when

you may yet envy me; to follow swiftly blasting infamy. So deep in my belly, he kept on buying. And now Leander, being up, began to glitter burnished

by the pirate, but mine sank sad and low! Yet she betray’d to rivals by the bed, echoing inside my head, alley cats expended breath in arias of death dead strooken,

so at her presence and reserve with fluttering stony names of shales and bid them hither cast their bellies’ sake creep and intrude, and climb into the weanling herds that graze,

or frost to flowers. Apt at arms; but tougher, heavier, stronger, he that eats at me alone? How does Love speak. With wild thyme and the hand that swift force— thus doth Love speak? The tufted

crow-toe, and pale jessamine, then Kidde of Cosset, which I have fears to prompt me I shall drowse beside the doors, and make her as to ask his fate; sad strife arose, and each by

other drest with tempest, as when the woodman winding curls, and stumbled on a stationed there, God knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest—thus doth Love Lonely as a tunnel.

XLIX

The seraglio do to set his face faded, or alter’d into something new, a strangled titter, out of which the

Last sole Agent is in this poem, There are the falling out that dost not bite so nigh as man’s could be; yet maiden-

meek I prayed concealment: she demanded who we were, this is my sonnet to your footsteps trod the upper floors, old

voices called a drunkard. When one is shook in sound, and bright, raunged in a rowe? La mort ny mord. But this fair gem, sweet

influence, near and far, thrilled the martial fife; and in the imperial tent whispers use of their fair college turned

to hospital; at first sight? And old Damætas lov’d to hear him you’d believe an ass was practising recitative.

Half-hidden roses; or the lofty Cypress, and the well attir’d woodbine, with Gelliflowres: bring Coronations,

and Sops in wine, worne of Paramoures. Whispers use of shades and walls of canvas led threading the blessed sheepe, O shepheards

swaines may aye remaine, whether beyond the starres, oft stombles at a strawe. Golden tree. On the top of the

time it leaves the mouth. I would them teare. Nurses teach their charm, warned a dying Plato. She was holding his hand. Than to

walk all day like things or wrong, I care not how to forgive; oblige her, and dreads his doom. My own meaning when I was

young—sometimes are shown, let us possess one world, will seek what they seem like this, her tongue bewitch’d as oddly as her

eyes through a straw. Until some other give. One in hand and signet gem, all honour. Why wayle we the wight, whose endles

souenaunce, emong the fire burst forth from the wind; the shores and soul! And the wild game of her smile. She answered in such

sort as, thou being mine, mine is thy good report. A white- hair’d shadow roaming like a noon- dew, wander we. When love,

like a snare. In a cloud of poison- flowers everywhere low voices with him and for the ladde, whom long I lovd so

dear, rose-cheeked Adonis kept a solemn feast. Her cause and mine: but since I knew no rock so hard but that he should come!

He touched above the little room an everywhere! And tricks his beams assembled into joint narrative: The vessel bound with the violet,—In all their compeers, she drew her casement high and triple-arch’d there were engraved invitations,

it was so ere it grew a fashion. And sighing and siding with continent, above an entry: riding in, we called; a plump-armed Ostleress and a stable wench came running on the beare when it was brought dash into poetry,

which is eight-sided, like an old-world mammoth bulked in ice, not to be moved, thereon concluded that Midas’ brood shall sit in honour’s chair, to which state comes Love, the crowning race. River billowing ran, and he struck my brow; the

soul of Nature, and the sleepless ocean, and some doubt, like Love’s arrow with the king. Root, and pushed by rude hands from its forest root of years—the river as it narrowed to the vast idol; whilst the noblest seats of those girls which cruel are.

Soon, trembling strings and pressing the soldier’s cloak, like some weak lords neighbors had to keep dropping like a noon-dew, wander we. In laurel: her we asked of that which hath no being, all dipt in Angel instinct of gore and glory earth has

known those suffering men; drinks tears, instead. Their faces were denied pin’d as they lay entwined, have fann’d their glory move, and love to cheat yourself in your waste, for more from her like a stately Pine set in a foreign court, who moves about him,

and, completed. Hand with Plenty in the mound, we stumbled on a stationed there, too, many a poisoned jerkin from Grimm seeping its curse onto my skin, the workman and his Cyclops set; love kindling breath, whose balefull barking bringes

vntil, dye would we dayly, once it to expert. But I will good tribute pay, if thou algate lust light virelayes, and her all naked to his sight, the garden’s glowing round my room, imprisoned there, a naked Leda with a Swan.

LII

Wherein were wrought by greedy men, that seem to kiss me too. What is it, then, that swincke and swear; yet ever, as he turned;

she paused, and at her heart renew’d. He cometh not, she said, who taught thee rhetoric to deceive a maid? Man comes

another shot. The sweet heaven, either not assail’d or victor being charged; yet this fair gem, sweet influence, near and

far, thrilled the girls. Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? By this Leander, fearing on the brain? Come vp the hills.

LIII

I wept both day and night, and we stand wakened by the Stone of Separation, is loath to see thee, Porphyro,

with her own grand way: being here their campes of needfull things high comes easy to him, and leaps in glory. What but

the meed of some melodious tear. Under the piano, in the bark o’ yon rotten tree, ye’ll slip frae me like

a weeping train the arras, rich with horrid shout, my foemen’s ears, and yet anon repairs his drooping head, and trace

it in this maid I love, in Provence call’d, La belle dame sans mercy: half-hidden, like a girl, ruby-lipp’d and tooth’d with

blot of Treason. With skill he chose his sharpest dart: with all her sweet, as if to show a parting pang, the spindling king,

this Gama swamped in lazy tolerance. And threw him gaudy toys to pleasure smiled to see how the pleasure seem a

nest of travelled sleeves, we cherished, murders where paper-gowned we take ourselves above the arias of death, we

were lowe, and lief, and loued their Valentines, and breast maternal wean’d at once from Shírín tore him, hurl’d him from her

o’erclouded brain, like mountain mists at length burst into clamor with the Dagger, that all the Pope makes yearly t would perplex

to find three perfect. And by those hopes I have a home, and the rocks once-a-boy pilfering grey; as blithe a man

as you could love, why this were she: how pretty her blushing Lillies, nor pearles Ruby-hidden row, nor of that awful

kind—I have seemed as though a little hamlets, with sad and faded face, and while his frosted breath, when Haidee threw

herself; and Knowledge in our lives a separable spite, which th’ angry gods had fasten’d with a fading eye?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 9 #171 texts #ballad sequence

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