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witchofhimring · 2 months

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To you who is lost

Chapter 1: Duty is the death of love

Chapter synopsis: Your husband leaves for despair and death. Left behinde, you are left at the mercy of others.

Warnings: Angst, abandonment, crying, pregnancy

Note: Usually I save notes for the end but this time I will also put some at the beginning. I am using their Quenya names (ex. Maedhros is called Maitimo).

Emmeril, Airin and llë are my OC's

You would lament thereafter for the lack of foresight. The wise in Arda would mourn their kindred, who had stepped out of bliss and into woe. Nerdanel, Amarië, Anairë, these great women of the Blessed Realm were linked in sorrow to those left behind. You joined this tragic assembly, united in regret. Days would waste away as you asked " What was there to be done?". Anguishing over every time you could have forestalled these harrowing events.

It had been a storm, slowly strengthening until its power was too great to prevail. Deceived, one and all had been taken in. Melkor's repentance had seemed so genuine. Save Tulkas and Curufinwe none had heeded any notion of trickery. Now the dark Vala's laughter rang in Angamando, echoing off the stone walls. In your own halls, you sighed. Brought so low you were a specter of the beautiful young elf maiden whose laughter had lit up Tirion. These days were dark with the Alduya felled.

"Will you come to bed?" Amarië, whose suffering was as great as yours, came forward. Together they cast their gazes to the darkness beyond. All of Arda had been plunged into an impenetrable shadow. Amarië's light was much dimmed, her golden hair hanging forlornly. She had always been pale and thin but her boundless joy had given her strength which many envied. They need envy no longer. Findaráto had sworn to return and Amarië held him to it. She was bound to him, although not formally, and believed he would return. For a time Amarië would remain before departing. She would dwell in her home and wait for Findaráto.

You had been gifted no such reassurance. Cast off, Maitimo had spurned every vow he made. Bitter words were exchanged, things that could not be unsaid. Unlike Amarië's stalwart serenity, you had wept. Your marriage had been waning for some time now. When Curufinwe stormed into exile you followed to Formenos. In Formenos you would lose your husband.

The laws of the Eldar commanded that husband and wife be one in all things. Never had you any cause to doubt these customs. Naturally, a husband and wife must cleave together. Growing up in a big, tightly-knit family, a certain worldview had been formed. There was never any doubt that if you married your husband would always protect you. And how could you not? Your father had always been so devoted to your mother, his desire to make her happy endless.

Your worldview had been, to a degree, changed when you married Maitimo. The house of Finwe had been in turmoil for quite some time. Since Finwe cemented his union Indis despite the protests of his son Feanaro, his progeny had torn at one another. Though to Nolofinwe's credit, the war was pitifully one-sided. Even those who had never encountered either prince heard of the brotherly animosity. A pungent cloud of this great house, many feared for the day a storm would break. Coming from a close family this was something of an anomaly. Your father had quarreled with his brothers, but nothing could sunder their bond. Your mother had her gripes with her sisters, but their love always brought them together again. Being the eldest of your family you had the unenviable job of keeping rambunctious youngers siblings in line. However no matter what troubles came your, love and affection remained. Perhaps this made the end inevitable.

You begged him not to leave that day. The death of High King Finwë plunged all of Arda into grief. Sickening amounts of blood were saturated into the ground. From there after that very spot was stained by Melkor's vile deed. The smell sent your head reeling and burning bile to bubble. You had never seen a dead body before and abhorred the slaughter of animals. They might think you weak for it, but you knew this sight would curdle the blood of even the most austere of elves. Wails of despair took the place of joy. The light had faded and everything became dark. If only it had stopped there, oh by Eru how you wished this was the worst.

It all started on a day filled with joy. Manwë had summoned the Houses Fingolfin and Curufinwë, ordering peace between the two families. Brother took brother in hand and promised peace and friendship. Though how sincere Curufinwë was remained unknown. Many times you had witnessed Curufinwë rage over his younger brother. He howled over the "spawn of Indis" and cursed him. Such festering resentment could not be swept aside by simple sweet words. "I know we should be glad. But I can not help feeling dread." Maitimo simply took your hand in his. "I assure you that nothing bad will happen." His smile reassured you. Oh how wrong he was. When the darkness fell confusion and fear reigned. Finwë was dead, the Silmarills stolen and half of the Edain of Valinor gone. The only respite was Arafinwë returning to take leadership.

All the lights went out. Melkor had drained the trees of all their light, and from there he fled. But there was no running from the darkness. Warmth and light were replaced by darkness and dread. Wails of the bereft took the place of laughter. You who had once been so full of joy had only despair for company. Things had been far from perfect even before the oath. When Curufinwë had been exiled your husband went with him. Of course, you understood his duty as the eldest son. But it didn't make the move from Tirion to Formenos. That day you had to leave behind all those you loved. Try as you might to sway Maitimo to stay, it worked to no avail. In those days you would have done anything for him, and so where he went you followed. You tried not to complain. Even when Curufinwë's temper became unbearable, or your friends stopped sending letters. You could not blame them, living in the court of temporary King Nolofinwë and keeping in touch with you was risky. At least your family was supportive. Your younger sisters and brothers But even in those cold days you still would never have thought Maitimo would leave you. The years had been trying, but he still cared for you in those days. Years later in the dead of night, as you lay awake, you wondered if every "I love you" had been a lie.

"Please, if you have ever loved me you would stay." He did not meet your eyes. He just looked back to the army assembling in the courtyard below. "Have I not followed you all these years? What could I have done for you to cast me aside!" You seized his arm. Gently he pried you off him. "Y/n, you must understand that I have to go. Of course you may follow me-" "I have done nothing but follow you! Maitimo this is suicide!" It was at this point your father in law chose to appear, ascending the steps in a storm of fury. "If you do not choose to follow your husband, as you are sworn to do, then you are no wife!" Temperamental, yes, but now there was the flame of madness dancing in his eyes. Curufinwë had taken leave of his senses. "My vows said that I would follow him as my conscious dictates! As your wife has stayed in Valinor so shall I." The comment was poorly timed. Anger beat so furiously in your chest that you thought not of the consequences. With a roar of unbridled fury, Curufinwë drew his sword. Horrified, both you and Maitimo stepped back. The tip was right at your neck, an inch further would slice the flesh. "Depart, faithless wretch! And do not let me find you lurking in these hall again lest I strike you dead!" Maitimo drew you away and behind him. "You will cease your insults of my wife." You stared up at him in awe. Here he was standing up to his father, possibly the greatest of the Noldor. You had thought at that moment Maitimo had seen sense. He led you off to a room, away from his father and the chaos below.

"Maitimo!" You flung your arms around his shoulders. An elated kiss was placed on his forehead. But his eyes were sad with what you later realized was guilt. Gently he pried you off of him. He was gentle but his actions indicated he wanted to put distance between you and himself. "Do-?" You were unable to finish. Maitimo closed his eyes and whispered something so quietly under his breath you almost missed it. Almost. "Please." "Maitimo?" Your temporary relief was dashed as quickly as it came. "Y/n, I must follow my father." One could hear a pin drop. Your world had been torn apart, fractured almost beyond repair. "My Lord-Maitimo! You must not!" Your body was shaking, horror gripping you like a vice. Your legs seemed unable to hold themselves, such was the agony you felt at that moment. Falling to your knees, you started to beg.

"Husband, if you have any love for me then-" Suddenly Maitimo's could not even meet your eye. "You will not sway me Y/n." His voice was hard, cold, a tone he had recently adopted and that reared its head more and more frequently. You could not believe what you were hearing. Your husband seemed to disregard the bond between man and wife, that they must always stay side by side. And here he was abandoning you at your hour of need. You were scared. Finwë was dead and the rest were in self imposed-exile. The journey ahead scared you. To leave the safe haven of Valinor was suicide. You could understand avenging the King, you had great love and respect for him. And as King he must be avenged. But this was beyond simple revenge. This very act would tear apart the house of Finwë, and all of Valinor. Your family. Curufinwë's heart had turned dark and following him to this end. And there was another, more overriding reason. A shaking hand went to your stomach.

It could be a lie to say that everything had been perfect before the darkening. Hard to admit, but your presence in the family was not welcomed by everyone. Curufinwë and his son who shared the same name looked upon you with disdain. You were to head-in-the-clouds for them to ever like. You tried, only to end in ridicule and failure. The escalation was partly your fault, afraid of causing trouble Maitimo was never told. Looking back, telling Maitimo might have been wiser. Alas, you did not. This was not to say the rest were unkind. Never had there been a great closeness between Tyelkormo, Carinstir and yourself, there was also never ill blood either. Though you were better acquainted with the latter's wife, Ilë. Macalaurë had always been kind but rather unapproachable, him being so proud. You supposed that was what Emmeril liked about him. The twins you were the closest to, out of the lot, Telvo and Pityo. His cousins hailing from the house of Nolofinwë you held a greater preference for. Save Turokáno who thought you rather silly.

There lay a great enmity between the houses Curufinwë and Nolofinwë. Or rather, Curufinwë held a deep mistrust and dislike of his younger brother. The ill sentiment had spread like a poison to all his kin, even the children. During the exile in Formenos you were forced to meet Findecáno and his younger sister, at times with Arakáno. Those years had been hard, especially for those such as Turkafinwë and Maitimo who forged deep bonds with their kin. Curufinwë the younger missed Írissë, despite his attempts to hide it. Those years in Formenos had been horribly lonely, bereft of company. With a family far away and friends forced to stay in Tirion company was limited. Only two friends had accompanied you. But denied company they soon started to despair. Despite what it cost you have them leave. Many tears had been shed that day. The resentment between the various members of Curufinwë started to devour the residents. Anger brewed, bitterness ensued.

"And Indis's brood wander those halls, our halls! What right... what claim does the House of Indis have to my father's throne! The throne of my forefathers!" Around Curufinwë's table everyone sat, save Ilë who pleaded exhaustion. The rest of you were not spared Curufinwë's rage. Sitting next to Maitimo your hands shook, his hand on your knee. The twins sat closest to their father, though Telufinwë not leaning in as close. Turkafinwë's seemed unusually thoughtful, for such a brash elf. Curufinwë the younger's face was obscured from shadow, his silent wife beside him. Morifinwë was leaning in towards Curufinwë with a red flush crawling up his face. Kanafinwë and Emmeril sat on the sidelines, observers of Curufinwë's rant. You would give anything to leave this table.

"What of our Uncle Arafinwë?" Maitimo was far too fond of his half-uncles for Curufinwë's liking. You could see his thin pale lips tighten. His dark blue eyes, bloodshot, narrowed in on Maitimo. "He is his mother's son." Curufinwë's stance was clear. Your thoughts went to Amarië who you had not seen in years. Last you heard Findaráto had pledged to marry her. Wondering if Curufinwë would allow you to attend their wedding, you looked outside. Formenos was cut off from the rest of Valinor. Held up in these mountains it was hard to see anything else. It only served to make you feel more nervous.

"Though, I do wonder if not everyone is paying attention." Curufinwë's tone made it seem he was scolding a child. Except it was you. "My apologies." Quickly covering your mistake, you sat there rigidly. "My wife meant no offense." Maitimo was swift to defend. Curufinwë looked ready to say more but chose to abstain. All you could do was stare at your lap, numb with anxiety.

Maitimo had changed. The bleakness and chill of Formenos had worn on everyone. Exhaustion had settled over the residents like a heavyweight. Loneliness became a constant companion, stalking you like a specter. In the beginning, it was not so bad. You spent time making this place a home. A small garden was built in the courtyard with help from Maitimo. Carefully you tended to the delicate petals, their white petals reflecting light. He would wind them in your hair, cascading down in a waterfall of flowers. They spent much of their time holed up inside their room. It became a safe haven, a world that separated themselves from all the torments outside. Light blue curtains adorned the windows, you had elected for a more simple style. Windows were left open a crack letting fresh air in. At times like these you could forget about everything.

The years passed and the bond between husband and wife started to crumble. A great toll was upheaving this family. Twelve years was but the link of an eyes to elves. For this family however, it dragged on. Every moment served to increase Curufinwë's rage and desire to avenge himself burned within. Like a disease it spread, its symptoms laying low the spirits of his heirs. Maitimo became sullen and the fire within seemed to flicker. The letters hailing from Tirion, where his beloved cousin Findecáno resided, remained unopened for days. When Maitimo finally did dare to gaze upon the contents they were for him only. Afterwards Maitimo would grow sullen once more and would disappear. Behind his back, although it brought guilt, you read its contents. It was the words of a cousin who missed his friend. He talked of times past and expressed joy in those to come. "I hope for further joy, so that all ill will become forgotten." He had written. Letters arrived from your sister as well. Airin was the closest in age to you, being only a few years your junior. Residing in the court of Anairë, Airin would provide information. King Nolofinwë ruled wisely and was much loved. Such tidings brought you no joy. Eru knew what Curufinwë might say. She was not the only one to bring information, Findecáno wrote to you as well, with affection that did little to curb a growing fear. He wished you well, that the days bring peace, but those words soothed not. There lingered an underlying anxiety to his words. Try as he might to cover it up.

"My dear daughter, we are well. But it would truly warm our hearts to know you too are well. Do not forget that all of us (yes, all of us) miss you dreadfully" Those letters remained in a safe wooden box. Sometimes you would read them when lonely. Even your brothers, who were a great many years younger, had written. Sadly, letters were no substitute for true company. Ilë, wife of Carnistir, was a good friend. But as time dragged on Ilë retreated and clung to her husband. Less and less she patrolled the halls, staying with her husband in solitude. Making friends with the other elf maidens, there was still a poignant loneliness. All they did was remind you of those left behind.

"It is merely your father's words, my love. Your uncle would never harm any of us." Your husband's anguish hurt you in turn. As a wife it was agonizing to know his pain and yet have no balm to heal the wound. Another one of Findecáno's letters lay forlornly on the bedside. Instead of bringing joy they served to torment. Maitimo was slumped against his chair by the windows. His bright blue eyes were focused on the mountains beyond. You stood beside him, fingers running through his red hair. For a while you said nothing. Gently you stroked his cheek which was unusually sallow. Leaning forward you kissed the cheek. Slightly, he leaned into your affection. "I know you will do what is right." Had those words strengthened him, or heaped on yet greater pressure onto Maitimo.

Everything changed when that great host left Valinor. You were left alone and exposed with no one to protect you. Everyone was either gone or wanted nothing to do with you. Maitimo had ordered those of his followers who stayed behind to protect you. But would they be able to? And could you, in good conscience, place those who were under your care into great danger? Thank Eru Arafinwë took pity on your condition. You had been barricaded in Formenos for fear when the youngest son of Finwë and his host came upon the fortress. To your surprise, he brought along Indis and Nerdanel. Despite your disgrace, they brought you with them to Tirion.

You sat on a bench with an outlook to the garden below. Despite its glamorous beauty, it brought you no joy. There was no light for the Two Trees had been utterly drained. It felt like divine providence, the trees set and your love as gone. Now it was dark as the hole in your heart. "Y/n, dear, you should no linger in the cold for so long. "Nerdanel stepped out onto the outlook. " Is it dinner already?" You drew your cloak tighter around yourself. Instinctively your hands cradled your ever expanding belly. "Yes. And Indis has prepared your favourite." At one times these temptations would have been rather tempting. But no food could fill you. Not now. "If not yourself then at least for him." "You are so certain?" Coming from Nerdanel the Wise the idea she might already know was not preposterous. Relenting, you got up. The baby was all you had left.

"And are we to forget that this woman chose to go into exile, against all common sense and decency." It was as you expected. Even with the new Lord of the Noldor beside you. It was Arafinwë's first council as leader (would that make him King now?) in the great halls. You remembered that last time you had been here. How Curufinwë unsheathed his sword and pointed it at his own brother. You recalled the horror and revulsion on the audience's face, and now all their eyes were on you. Every important lord and lady of Valinor were judging you. It hurt to know that some of them had once been your friends. Perhaps everything had been a lie. Your husband despised you and the rest of Valinor bore mistrusted.

"You forget, My Lord, that as a Princess and member of her lord husband's household, she was bound to follow him to whatever ends. It was only when it all became too much did Y/n depart from her husband. Her moral convictions won out, and despite their fëas being one she forsook him." Arafinwe's voice held a steely edge you had not yet heard before. The youngest son of Finwë was often misconceived as being shy, timid even. This was a misconception, he was simply quiet. Never should one misconstrue kindness for complacency. But one should never be complacent with the belief that silence means stupidity. Arafinwë stood up, white robes billowing behind him. You felt Nerdanel place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Have we fallen so far that we would attack a lonely woman? If we are to proceed with revenge in this matter, are we truly worthy to live amongst the Vala and Maia?' Some had the grace to look ashamed. Despite this, there were still some who had misgivings.

"My Lord, if I may speak." Lady Nimlothel served the house of Nolofinwë, more specifically it was his Lady wife she owed her allegiance to. With an elegant stride, she took the floor. "You may." Arafinwë answered, although his eyes looked wary. "The Lady Y/n is not responsible for her husband's ill deeds. Although I would like to add that Lady Nerdanel never fled into exile, a most wise decision. I suggest that the Lady Y/n retire, at least for a time. It would be unwise to allow such a remnant of Curufinwë's treachery to remain here." You felt so cold, so alone. They might not lock you up, but exile was little better. You would hide away, a forgotten remnant in a far off castle. An embarrassing chapter of Arda's history. Arafinwë sat down, troubled. "This council is dismissed. We shall convey at morning tomorrow."

"We may reside by my parent's hearth. They extend this offer to you too." Emmeril had bolted the chest shut. Sitting on a bed you watched Makalaurë's wife hastening departure. She along with Airin, wife of Curufinwë the Younger (your husband's brother) remained in Valinor. Ilë alone had departed, swearing to follow her husband Morifinwë, to whatever end. You prayed to Eru she would be well. Airin had long since departed. Saddened over the loss of husband and son she departed, destination unknown.

"My Lady, is that all?" One of Emmeril's handmaidens entered. "Take these out to the yard, then we depart." Once the handmaiden departed Emmeril turned to you. "What do you hope to accomplish by staying?" The bond between Emmeril and yourself had never been great. It was not personal dislike so much as never truly understanding one another. Emmeril was stern and hard, chafing against your soft and easy nature. But she had never been cruel or given you reason for mistrust. Emmeril's reasoning was wise in this matter. Leaving Tirion could allow you to start anew. You might have done so if it were not for the babe that dwelt within you. What sort of life would your child have? A permanent exile for the rest of their days? Could you even call yourself a mother while condemning a child to such a fate? Emmeril may think you a fool, and perhaps she was right to think so. But you would not reveal this secret to her. Now was not the time and frankly you were not ready.

Emmeril did not stay long, but departed for her family's home. You watched her go until the last of her horses were over the hill. The room suddenly felt colder, more forlorn. A choked sigh bordering on sobs left your mouth. At times like these you would have walked in the garden with Ilë. Only it was pitch black out and Ilë was gone. A soft knock at your door alerted you. Amarië swept in, pink silk trailing behind. "Y/n, Nerdanel wishes to give council." Rising up you followed Amarië. The hallway was obscured with shadows, torches providing ailing light. Even with windows barred shut you could still feel a draft. Even Amarië seemed to feel it, drawing her robe tighter. Every step echoed in these silent halls. Most had either fled Tirion or barricaded themselves in their rooms. Only guards remained patrolling the halls.

Nerdanel had taken quarters next to Queen Indis. Was Indis even still queen? Suspiciously guards regarded your presence. "Lady Nerdanel had sent for Lady Y/n. Queen Indis is aware." They let you in with a look of reluctance on their faces. The swords on their sides glimmered in the torchlight. Only a short time ago none dared to disregard the Valar's ordinance. Now none dared leave their rooms without protection. Such were these sad times. Nerdanel bore her usual attire, baggy brown pants and a white shirt. Her hair, Nerdanel had her back turn to you, was tied in a loose braid. Rubble and tools lay scattered. When Amarië cleared her throat Nerdanel seemed to finally take notice. "Lady Amarië, thank you." Amarië curtsied and made to leave. "Hold-" "I must depart. Lady Nerdanel wishes to speak to you in private." Now it was just Nerdanel and you. Nerdanel lightly kicked a hammer out of the way and picked up a tray. You smelt citrus and a hint of cinnamon. Sitting down you watched Nerdanel pour a cup of tea. "Care for some?" You nodded. You had the feeling this conversation was not simple idle chat.

Nerdanel did not beat around the bush. After a sip, her grey eyes focused on you. The look was not critical, but the one she adopted when an important topic was at hand. "I heard Emmeril offered you a place at her family home. Why did you not go?" She was not being critical, just inquiring. "I have never been close to Emmeril. It would be an intrusion on my part." Nerdanel poured another cup. "Will you remain here indefinitely?" "Nerdanel I do not know what to do. I am lost. In leaving I condemn myself and the baby to exile. In staying ill may come too, for those that support the Houses of Nolofinwë and Arafinwë have no love of Curufinwë's kin." Nerdanel reached out calloused hands, worn by years of her craft. Your own was not so smooth, for years of gardening had hardened the skin. "Fate may be kinder to you. Our king wishes to provide what help he can." The attempt was well made, yet still you remained unsettled. "My fate is solely in the hands of others. If I stay then it is another exile. I banish my freedom. Perhaps I should leave and lessen others' hold on me." Nerdanel's gaze went to your belly. If one was unaware they would not know. But soon it would swell and then what would happen then? Your family would be harboring a potential heir. Arafinwë was good and wise, but the actions others you must look to. Would they see the baby as a contender? If you stayed at court then an alliance could be built and no one could accuse you of hiding.

"Do what you think is best for yourself and the baby Y/n. But do not forget, make sure you stand on your own feet."

Note: This story has been in my drafts since September and was originally meant to be a one shot. A story surrounding the lives of those who stayed in Valinor is something I have been interested in for a while now. I am unsure how long this story will be. I will also be using the Quenya pronunciation for everyone's names unless canonically one is not provided. All the sons of Feanor use their mother-name except for Curufin.

While I use Jodie Comers face in the gifs and aesthetics for this story it is not meant to be a face claim. I simply like to use a certain character/acter's face in each series.

My OC's (the unnamed wives of the sons of Feanor) are my stand ins for the wives in every fanfic going forward. This is unless I write an x-reader involving one of the three married sons. In that case I will simply write them out. But going forward in this story and others they will exist. I intend to make character profiles for them at some point.

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know!

#the silmarillion x reader #silmarillion x reader #the silm #the silmarillion #silmarillion #to you who is lost #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #celegorm x aredhel #feanor x nerdanel #fingolfin x anaire #finrod x amarie #finarfin x earwen #finarfin #nerdanel #maitimo x reader #maedhros x reader

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barbieaemond · 4 months

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Red Bird • I

Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryen x Alysanne Hightower oc, Daeron Targaryen x Alysanne Hightower (minor)

Word count: 4.8k

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @chompchompluke @bunbunbl0gs

(English is not my first language)

Red Bird.

That's how her father called her. For that crimson shade in her hair. For the old tale.

He did it when she made him laugh. He did it to comfort her. He did it on his dying bed. He called for her. But she was far, far away, locked up in a gilded cage of redstone bricks. Dreadful winged beasts to guard it.

Lord Hobert Hightower was a good man. Loyal and dutiful. He lived to serve his House and he did, ruling the most ancient city of the Realm with a firm hand but a kind heart. He had a gentler soul than his younger brother.

“Otto began to pull the strings from our mother’s womb. That’s why he was born before time.”

Joke or not, Otto was a born politician. And his older brother was proud of the stature with which Otto had incensed their noble House. No matter the cost. But King’s Landing had wrapped its coils around Otto and Hobert had watched its poison spread behind his brother's eyes, making him wary, cold, calculating. Losing his lady wife had only made things worse.

At least on that, Hobert could understand.

He had lost his Lynesse two days after Alysanne’s third nameday. She had given him three healthy sons and one daughter, but she had never recovered from her last birth. And the Lord had mourned her for many moons.

Alysanne Hightower was raised by a Septa. With each passing year, despite the strictness dictated by the clergy woman, Lord Hobert caught glimpses of his lady wife through Alysanne’s stubbornness, through the wrinkle between her eyebrows when she disagreed on something, through her loud laugh.

She was tough to yield.

He should have scolded her for that, but he hadn’t.

Ormund, his first son who was almost fifteen years older than Alysanne, periodically accused his father of spoiling her. But the Lord didn’t care, for he knew. He knew that sooner or later, Alysanne had to put aside her beloved books, forsake her fantasies, her little trips outside the castle. He knew he ought to sell her to the highest bidder.

Thus, he let her do as she liked. And she did.

She knew that in the Age of Heroes, the Ravenry of the Citadel was supposedly the stronghold of a pirate lord who robbed ships as they came down the Honeywine.

She knew that during summer nights, the cobbled streets and stone bridges below the castle would smell of moonbloom and nightshade.

She knew you would find melons and peaches in Ragpicker's Wynd. But the Thieves Market was the only one to sell pomegranates.

And if she closed her eyes, she could trace the way the beacon on the mighty Hightower would reflect on the water of the Whispering Sound, guiding the ships to port.

Oldtown.

A place she made her own, to the point it had become mental, intimate, conjurable by her fingertips wherever in the world she would be. And she knew her future would eventually led her somewhere else.

She stored everything in her mind as another library she could reach anytime she wished. She drank the words and painted thousands of images in her mind, her memories like colorful brushes.

Her father kept saying she got used to lock herself into it, amongst the dark and dusty shelves; that it was a childish habit, not properly suited for a lady, a Hightower lady at that.

But she didn't listen, she never did, to the point that once, her lord father had to forbid her any access to the libraries and no further trips downtown.

"I don't understand." she said pleading that night. Large tears were trapped into her big blue-green eyes, making them red and blurry "What wrong am I doing? What's the harm in reading?"

Her Lord Father had shaken his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the dinner plate.

"Nothing wrong with reading, red bird. But you're neglecting your other duties. Septa Brenna tells me you missed your needle work twice last week."

Alysanne took the advantage of her father not looking to roll her eyes. A tear escaped running down her cheek. "I was just late. I thought she already left my chambers."

"And why were you late?"

"Because I didn't want to go."

Lord Hobert leveled her with a reprimanding stare but she simply shrugged. "I'm awful at needle work. I’ve accepted it. The Gods accepted it. Why can't you and Septa Brenna do the same?"

"All that reading is a waste of time." her oldest brother peeped in.

It was no secret that the first and last child of Lord Hobert had little love for each other. Ormund was to inherit Oldtown, everything was due to him. No one would ever question his word, even the dullest one. She ought to fight to even state her own.

Alysanne looked at him, sitting proudly beside their father, content for having done absolutely nothing except spending the morning sparring with a sword, blabbing about hunting or jousting, or some other physical activity for which her ears were still too young to hear.

Out of pure spite, she raised her chin and faked genuine curiosity. "Can you even read, brother?"

Ormund only glared at her. "That mouth of yours will get you hurt one day, little sister. No Lord of the Realm would want a woman beside him who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth."

"Ormund, that is enough." their Lord father said, and that was the end of it.

But they used to go on the matter on regular basis until Alysanne had to cave in. She began to attend her needle work again, gaining the scowls of Septa Brenna at her awful embroidery and her father's permission to reaccess the libraries.

Thus, she went back to burying her nose in books and pages so old they seemed like dead leaves between her fingers.

Two moons after her twelveth name day, she was reading about the legendary Symeon Star-Eyes in a book she had secretly stolen or, how she liked to phrase it, accidentally borrowed.

Maesters didn't allow their precious books to be borrowed from the ancient libraries of Oldtown, not even by the only daughter of Lord Hobert Hightower.

"You have to return that."

Alysanne didn’t bother to answer, keeping her eyes focused on the book but she did raise her head to scowl at her Septa when the woman pulled her dark auburn hair a little too much.

"That was intentional."

"So was your ignoring my statement."

Alysanne and Septa Brenna didn’t exactly see eye to eye on many levels but in time they had managed to find some ground. The Septa was a rigid woman, assigned to educate Alysanne as a proper Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, a perfect Lady Hightower. Loyal and dutiful.

Too bad Alysanne had little care for duty.

She was Lord Hightower's only daughter, the last of her siblings, three brothers who had abundantly fulfilled their highest duty, carrying on the Hightower name. She was the spare and a woman, her destiny was to leave Old Town and her name behind and marry into another. She had even come to accept it in a way, as long as they leave her alone and let her do what she liked. She felt it as a blurry thing, way far in the horizon and in the future.

Until it wasn’t.

"What are you doing still up?"

Her father’s voice finally managed to make her look up from the book. Through the vanity mirror, she saw the man on the threshold, a slight dip between his eyebrows.

"Father, you know I stay up till late."

Lord Hightower sighed and closed the door. Approaching his daughter at the vanity table, he tied his hands behind his back and said "We should do something about these…rebellious attitudes of yours."

Alysanne frowned, watching his father in the mirror, his tense shoulders. He smiled briefly and put one hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day, daughter. You should take some rest."

"Tomorrow? Why? What is happening tomorrow?"

"The Queen will be visiting her ancestors’ home. Along with her brother, Ser Gwayne and her youngest son, Prince Daeron. I have accepted the Queen’s request to make him my cupbearer and my squire. Naturally, I said yes. How could I refuse? A Targaryen prince, here? It’s an honor."

Alysanne turned on her chair to look at this father. Eager anticipation blowing her eyes wide.

"Do you know if he will bring his dragon? I’ve read that dragons and dragon riders share a fierce and mysterious bond! Some texts claim it’s magic, from Old Valyria! Can you believe it, Father? A dragon flying over Old Town!

Lord Hightower chuckled and helped his daughter rise from her chair, escorting her to bed.

"We’ll see, red bird. Now, do as your father says and go to bed."

Alysanne sighed and went under the covers. Before leaving, Lord Hobert turned on the doorstep and looked at Septa Brenna, the wrinkles on his forehead seemed suddenly sharper.

"Make sure she’s wearing her finest dress tomorrow."

"As you wish, my lord."

When she was escorted to the hall, she felt like she was going to pass out.

Never, not once, Septa Brenna pulled the laces of her corset so tight like that morning. She had looked into the mirror and thought the dress was beautiful, yes, but she felt a bit uneasy. It was different from what she usually wore. More womanly. Even more so when Septa Brenna lowered the green straps, fully exposing her young shoulders.

She entered the room and felt many pairs of eyes on her, all the pleasant talking instantly ceased. Her father, her brothers and their ladies, they were all there. So was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Alysanne looked at the woman, a young woman, clad in green, her dark hair braided and tied atop her head with threads of gold, shining brightly as the Queen inclined her head to take a long and better look at Alysanne.

The young lady almost startled when she heard Septa Brenna hissing on her neck. "Seven Hells, child, what are you doing? Go pay your respects to the Queen."

And she did. She approached the Queen and bent her knees.

"My Queen. It is the highest of honors to meet you."

Silence followed for almost a minute, then the Queen smiled warmly and took Alysanne by the hands. "My dearest cousin, how much you have grown. It warms my heart to see what a lovely lady you’ve become."

Alysanne managed a smile, looking down at the Queen’s hands holding her own. She couldn’t but notice her nails, all red and chapped.

"You honor me, your Grace. It is a delight, for all of us, to have you here, back in your ancient and noble house."

Queen Alicent smiled again, with distant nostalgia, even sadness. Whatever it was, it didn’t reach her eyes. Then she turned, beckoning someone to come forward.

"This is my youngest son. Prince Daeron Targaryen. Son, meet Lady Alysanne Hightower."

A young boy, maybe a year younger that her, stepped forward, one arm behind his back and the other outstretched to her, palm upwards.

"My lady." he said politely, waiting for her hand.

"My prince."

Once he kissed her hand, he straightened his back and smiled. Although she was taller than him, Alysanne was slightly taken aback by his appearance.

She had never seen a Targaryen before, save for book illustrations, and the princeling before her looked the spitting image of Old Valyria: shining curls of silver falling around a delicate face and two violet eyes. He wore black, but the cloak resting on his left shoulder was green, tied to his doublet by a three-headed silver dragon.

Stepping back, the Queen and Lord Hobert shared a long look.

"I think it’s best to retire for a while before the banquet."

"Of course, your Grace. I have had your old chambers prepared for you."

Alicent smiled and took her leave with a nod. When she was out, Alysanne saw the lady wives of her brothers do the same, so she went for the door as well.

"Not you, sister." Ormund said, and she stopped.

She was standing in front of Septa Brenna, who gave her a small sympathetic smile, a genuine one, before leaving the room.

Alysanne turned on her heels to face her family and clasped her hands on her green gown. A dreadful feeling began twisting her stomach.

For a moment no one talked, but then her father stepped forward and grabbed her softly by the shoulders. "My daughter. My sweet only daughter. You’re young but I dim you wise enough to understand the consequences of the Queen coming here."

Alysanne swallowed and lowered her gaze, feeling that blurry thing suddenly becoming limpid, and then blinding.

"I—"

"It’s true that the Queen wanted to escort her son here. She cares deeply about her children. But that is not the only reason."

"She wanted to see me."

"Indeed. And you know why?"

The young lady looked up in her father’s eyes and saw her future, arranged and sealed like one of the ships leaving port. Duty was calling.

"I am to marry the prince."

Lord Hightower only nodded. Then he smiled, kindly, taking her daughter’s face between his hands.

“You need not worry, red bird. We will stand by you, always. We will light your way."

Her lip started to quiver but she refused to cry, not in front of her brothers. "Father, I beg you. I will do as you command, just…don’t make me leave Oldtown so soon."

At this, Lord Hobert stopped looking at her and withdrew his hands.

"You must understand, Alysanne. There will be preparations to be done."

"What kind of preparations? Can’t they be done here?"

"Preparations regarding your education." her oldest brother intruded again.

Alysanne turned her head to look at him, a grimace twisting her mouth. "My education is perfectly fine, brother. I’m afraid the same cannot be said about yours."

"Meaning?"

"Enough." said Lord Hightower, but Ormund laughed and pointed a lazy finger at his sister.

"That is what I’m talking about. Your education is quite alright sister, it is your tongue that needs to be educated."

"I said enough!"

This time Lord Hobert almost yelled, shushing his bickering children. Then, with a loud sigh, he looked at his daughter and his tone became commanding, like it never was before.

"Prince Daeron will stay here until he becomes a knight. You will have the chance to stay close to your future husband and get to know him. A chance most ladies are not granted in the matter of arranged weddings. But when the time comes, as in when Queen Alicent decides so, you will leave Oldtown and take a place amongst Princess Helaena’s ladies in waiting, in order to learn and live the court.

"Father—"

"It’s an order, Alysanne!" the Lord snapped "You are not suited to marry a prince now. But you will be. Your brother is right. You are too willful. You can’t allow yourself to speak out of turn at the Red Keep. Not with my brother, the Hand, there. Not when the King’s health worsens day by day and the winds carry whispers of war. Not when the House of the Dragon stands more divided than ever. House Hightower must stay united. This is a duty we all must endure. You too, red bird."

Alysanne fixed her eyes on the floor and swallowed, tasting salt in the back of her throat. "As you command, Father."

The banquet was a grand thing. Cooks outdid themselves with their best skills to honor and impress the Queen. She was given the best seat at the head of the table, with her son sitting next to her and Alysanne right beside him.

The young lady spent the afternoon in a bubble of doubt. She knew this day would eventually come, she had feared it, but now that it was actually happening, she didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. She wasn’t scared, but neither was she happy. What she knew for certain was that she didn’t want to leave Oldtown so soon.

And about the dragon prince, well…he had been polite, kind even, and it was indeed a great honor to marry a prince of the realm. But a kind smile was not enough to judge his character yet, and royal didn’t necessarily mean decent.

She was nervous when she sat at the table, but the more time she spent sitting beside him, the more she found that the prince was very pleasant company. He was young, yes, but it was clear he had a gentle soul and gentle manners. And this warmed her heart. Love in a marriage was rarer than a white raven, but so was a gentle husband. She found out he was fond of sweets, especially of cream, since she saw him set it on the left side of his plate, saving it for last. She smiled fondly at that and then she turned to him.

"My prince, if you don’t mind me asking, I was wondering if your Grace had brought your dragon here."

The young Prince set down the spoon and smiled eagerly. "I did, my lady. She’s flying somewhere but I can feel her close."

"You…you can feel her?"

"Yes. I can’t explain it...it is the strangest of feelings." he paused as to find the right words and said "Like…having a second heart, beating outside of you."

Alysanne smiled dreamily as if she was witnessing a mystery unraveling in front of her and the Prince smiled back.

"If you wish, I can take you to see her tomorrow."

Her heart jumped in her chest with trepidation.

"You are too kind, your Grace. I would love to be granted such a privilege."

Prince Daeron kept smiling and nodded. "Tomorrow, then."

When she went back to her chambers, the heavy grip on her insides had loosened. Septa Brenna began to untie the laces of her dress while Alysanne started to remove the hurting pins stuck into her auburn hair which, after so many hours, were positively piercing her skull.

She cast a glance at her Septa through the mirror, then set the hair pins down on the vanity table. "You knew, didn’t you?"

"I did." was all she said, keeping her gaze down and her hands busy on the laces.

Alysanne was quiet for some moments, then she turned forcing the older woman to stop her job.

"Will you come with me? To King’s Landing?"

Septa Brenna simply raised an eyebrow. "You silly child."

"Need I remind you you’re addressing a future Princess of the Realm?"

"I’m yet to see that day, princess." Then she sighed heavily, looking at the young lady with a patient motherly stare. “Do you really think I would let you go into that viper’s den all alone? Your head would be on a spike in less than a moon."

Alysanne couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. "That sounds a bit too dramatic. I am the Queen’s cousin."

"And you think that matters? History has taught us well that blood is more than often shed among kin, not strangers."

"You sure know how to lighten the mood."

Septa Brenna helped the young lady putting on her night gown and saw her grabbing a book left on the nightstand and going for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need another book." she said, matter-of-factly.

"A future princess of the realm does not wander around at night in dark libraries."

Alysanne paused on the door and turned her head, smiling like a fox.

"Well, I’m yet to see that day."

She could reach the libraries blindfolded and walking backwards.

They were a bit ominous at night, the majestic walls swallowed by the shadows and yet Alysanne find them comfortable, found shelter in them. Thus, it was a bit surprising for her to see the light of a single candle moving between the massive shelves, a solitary ghost basking in the darkness. She was even more surprised to see that the ghost had taken the shape of Queen Alicent.

The woman was still wearing the green dress she wore at dinner, but her hair was loose, falling down her back in a cascade of dark curls. She stopped in front of a shelf and looked at the titles. Alysanne made her presence known by softly clearing her voice.

When Queen Alicent turned her head, Lady Alysanne bowed.

"My Queen. My apologies for intruding. I didn’t know you were here."

The woman smiled reassuringly. "No need for apology then."

She took a long look at her and noticed a book clutched to her cousin’s chest.

"Last time I was here, Maesters didn’t allow to borrow books from the libraries."

Alysanne widened her eyes like a deer caught in the middle of the wood but the Queen smiled again and said "Fret not, cousin. Your little felony is safe with me."

The young lady visibly relaxed and stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do or what to say to the most important woman of the realm and more than that, her future good mother.

"If you have any trouble finding sleep, I could fetch the maesters to bring you some lemon balm, your Grace."

"There’s no need, cousin. Thank you. I believe no kind of balm would soothe me enough to stop worrying about my children."

Alysanne slightly furrowed her brow. The Queen’s children were Princes of the Realm, living in the Red Keep, alongside the King. Why was she so worried to the point of not finding sleep?

"Sometimes books can soothe our nerves, take our mind somewhere else." she offered, glancing at the book shelf beside her "were you looking for something in particular?"

The Queen sighed clasping her hands on her womb. "I’m not sure. I’m looking for a gift. I wish to take a book to my son. My second son, Aemond." she gave Alysanne a knowing look before whispering "I know it’s not allowed to borrow books but surely the Maesters will close an eye for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Your little felony is safe with me, your grace." she promised, returning the same look. "Does he like to read? Prince Aemond?"

"Too much, I’d wager. Mostly history and philosophy. I would like to give him something more…entertaining. But I can’t make up my mind."

Alysanne glanced back at the book shelf but then she remembered what she was holding.

"Take this." she said, offering the book to the Queen.

Alicent took it and read the title. "The legendary chronicles of Symeon Star Eyes. I’ve heard about it."

"It tells the legend of the blind warrior."

"And you believe it to be just that? A legend?"

"I believe legends always hide an ounce of truth, your Grace."

The Queen nodded and cast another glance at the cover.

"Thank you." she said finally, clutching the book to her chest.

"I saw you talking with my son earlier at dinner."

"Uhm, y-yes. Yes, your grace. The Prince was very kind and patient enough to suffer through all my questions about his dragon."

"I trust your father has talked to you, did he not?"

"He did, your Grace."

Queen Alicent nodded again and remained silent, looking at the young lady before her with a distant look. She seemed almost absent, as if her body was there but her mind was lost somewhere, in a thought, or some memory.

Then she sighed and stepped closer to Alysanne. There was an urgent honesty in her brown eyes.

"Unfortunately, we live in a manly word. Made for men and ruled by men. Our choices are not ours to make. But you can trust me with this, cousin. My son will treat you kindly. He is just a boy but he has a sweet disposition. And who knows…in time you might even learn to love him."

"Did you?"

The question left the Queen utterly stunned.

Alysanne immediately realised she had gone too far.

Did you learn to love him, the King?

For a moment she thought Ormund was right. She seriously had to learn when to shut her mouth.

It was the silly curiosity of a young girl. For everyone, in Old Town and even outside of its borders, knew that it was Otto Hightower who had put the royal sigil on House Hightower.

But at what cost?

The very same clad in green with chapped nails and tired eyes. The same woman who once was just a girl, just like Alysanne, with dreams and hopes—what was she now? A Queen, yes. But the more Alysanne looked into her eyes, the more she realised how old she looked. How miserable she seemed.

"I’m deeply sorry, your Grace. It was completely unacceptable for to me to ask you—"

"It’s quite alright, cousin." said Alicent, smiling reassuringly. Then she took a step closer and simply said "Thank you for the book. I bid you goodnight."

Before the Queen could leave the library, Alysanne reached her at the door.

"Your Grace, uhm…before you leave, I was wondering…how long will I stay here before joining you in King’s Landing?"

"There are quite few years ahead of us before the wedding. Have you had your first blood?"

"Not yet, your grace." she embarrassingly admitted.

"Do not worry about it. There’s plenty of time."

Young Prince Daeron kept his word.

The next morning, he summoned Lady Alysanne outside the castle and showed her Tessarion, or how she was called, the Blue Queen.

Much like her rider, Tessarion was still young, so her size was small. But small or not, Septa Brenna made her feelings about the creature quite clear while escorting Lady Alysanne.

"You hear me child? I’m not going anywhere near that thing." she warned, trying to keep up with the pace of her young lady. Alysanne laughed, eager to join the prince on the small hill where Tessarion had chosen to rest.

She widened her eyes when she saw her and stopped altogether. She couldn’t believe her own eyes. There was a dragon in front of her. A dragon in flesh. And she was beautiful, her wings and scales were dark blue, like cobalt, while her claws, crest, and belly took the shades of copper.

Her mouth fell open and she dared take one step closer, but the young Prince stopped her, raising his hand.

"I think it’s best to stay there, my lady. Tessarion is young and she doesn’t know you yet."

Alysanne nodded dutifully and looked back at the dragon. A growing smile bloomed on her pink lips. "She’s...so beautiful."

Daeron smiled proudly and looked at Tessarion, who was curiously observing the young lady through her golden eyes. The Prince touched her on the snout and even though she was several steps away from them, Alysanne could have sworn she heard the dragon make a low rumble, much like the purring of a cat.

She watched the prince say something to the dragon and not a moment later, the beast lurched onward and took to the skies, her blue wings blending with the sky.

"I guess she didn’t like me." the lady joked when the Prince approached her. He chuckled, his wavy silver hair ruffled by the wind. "I’ve told her to do as she likes. She needs to know the sky."

Alysanne watched the winged shape disappearing above the clouds and asked "How many dragons are there now in King’s Landing?

"Three, my lady."

She turned to him furrowing her brow and he heard her silent question.

“My brother, Aemond, he doesn’t have a dragon. His egg didn’t hatch.”

“Oh.” was all she said.

She remembered reading about the Targaryens and their mighty dragons. She read everything about the custom of putting a dragon egg into the crib.

She also knew that if the egg didn’t hatch, it was considered a gloomy message from the Gods. A bad omen.

“One day…” Prince Daeron’s voice shook her from her memories "when Tessarion has known you better and she’s big enough to saddle two…one day I will take you to the skies with me, my lady."

Alysanne smiled fondly at him, feeling the adrenaline flowing through her veins at the mere thought of flying on dragonback.

A silly dream. A childish dream. Yet destined to come true.

Though it will not be the Blue Queen who will take Lady Alysanne to the skies, but Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons and Ruler of the Skies.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💚💚

#red bird #liv (in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x ofc #ewan mitchell #hotd fic #aemond x oc #aemond x fem!oc #aemond targaryen #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond imagine #house of the dragon fanfic

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logicalabsurdity · 4 months

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I have the power of Stud.io and anime on my side, and what do I do? Make sad dioramas about the origin story of my OCs.

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Several hundred years before the Great Cataclysm, Lhilari was a Matoran of Ice living on the Southern Continent. Her Ko-Koro was a relatively isolated village, nestled in the crags of a western mountain range, and Lhilari was one of the traders, sent down to the warm foothills to barter for news and supplies.

Lhilari's duty brought her to cross paths many times with one of the local wandering Toa, a Toa of the Green called Garenix. They did not often spend much time together, but they became familiar faces to each other; Garenix always had a brief smile for her, even as he seemed to draw away from everyone and spent more time on the move. He particularly enjoyed when Lhilari brought him samples of hardy mountain mosses, and when Garenix did stop for a rare rest in one of the villages, he told Lhilari all he knew of local plants' beneficial or dangerous properties.

Perhaps it was that mentorship, as inconstant as it was, that was why Lhilari found him on the mountain path.

It was the harsh breathing that caught her attention. Harsh, but shallow; someone trying desperately to avoid notice, but in too much pain to succeed.

Lhilari's hand tensed around the handle of her spear. Toa Garenix had come through only last month, following up on the unusually aggressive Rahi and confirming they had calmed; the road was supposed to be safe again, especially this close to home. Had he missed something? Had something been hiding, waiting to pounce once enough silent nights had gone by that the Matoran grew calm again?

She crept forward up the path, eyeing every rock and tree, ready to lunge at the first sign of movement. It was early for a nocturnal Rahi to strike, the sky still shading down from blue to black, but...

It wasn't a Rahi she found, and it wasn't a victim of one. Hidden crouched behind a boulder she found Toa Garenix, one hand pressing heavily on his leaf-bladed broadsword as if it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing fully to the packed earth. A thick hilt protruded from his chest above his heartlight, and blood pooled by his knees and other hand.

Lhilari dropped her spear and rushed forward. "Toa! Toa Garenix, what happened--"

He raised his head to meet her eyes, and his bleak expression stopped her cold. "Little sister," he sighed. His face twitched in a faint smile.

"Toa-- Toa, you're--"

Toa Garenix glanced down at the shortsword in his chest. "Yes," he said. "I am sorry."

The blade was the only thing keeping him from bleeding out entirely. Lhilari twitched forward, then brought her hands to her head instead. "I can get help. Ko-Koro is only--"

"No," he said, and coughed wetly. "No. There is-- no time. I am out of time."

"The Turaga can-- can freeze it shut, I know he can, anything for our Toa--"

Toa Garenix shook his head. "Poison," he said. "I am beyond help, little sister."

Lhilari pressed her hands to her Matatu and shook her head. "No, no, there must be something-- you can't die, you're our Toa, you're everyone's Toa--" She pointed desperately at a berry bush that she knew did something but couldn't remember what. "Can that--?"

His smile was almost pitying. "I am sorry."

She stared at him, fury and despair warring in her. "Please. There has to be something I can do. You're--" Her voice cracked. "You're the only Toa I've ever known."

He closed his eyes for a long moment. He seemed to sag, and Lhilari jerked forward, ready to catch him, before his resigned gaze caught her again. "Bring me a stone," he said. "The first fist-sized stone you find."

Lhilari nodded sharply and bolted. She snatched her spear from the ground and didn't bother to search for a rock of the right size, just swung at a nearby outcropping with all her helpless rage until a chunk came off. She'd have to apologize to the Captain of the Guard for such an abuse of a weapon, but-- that was later. Now, her Toa was dying.

Toa Garenix looked somehow even worse. The pool of blood had grown, perhaps because he had moved to reach for her with his left hand. "Give it to me," he said.

Lhilari clutched it to her chest instead. "Who did this to you?" she demanded.

"They are..." He took a shuddering breath and shook his head. "Do not seek them out. Do not... follow my path. Give me the stone."

"Was it Dark Hunters?"

"Sister," he said sternly. The stone grew heavy in her hands as he stared her down. "Please. Do as I ask."

The faint glow of his Garai was more obvious in the dying light. Lhilari huffed and stepped forward to hand over the stone. "Are they a danger to the villages?"

Toa Garenix didn't take the stone from her, just laid his hand over it. His breathing hitched unevenly, his chest heaving. "No. They got... what they... came for."

He shuddered, then, his hand clamping around the stone, as an energy buzzed through it that made Lhilari jerk her hand away. Then he collapsed, his sword falling hilt-first to land next to Lhilari, the stone glowing a verdant green through his fingers.

"Toa Garenix!" Lhilari dropped to her knees and reached for him. "No, no no no, please--"

"Your Turaga... will know.... what to do," he whispered. "Use... the power... well, sister. Do not... avenge..."

"Please, I can't-- you have to teach me--"

He met her eyes and smiled one last time. "Farewell... Toa... Lhilari..."

The light of his green eyes faded as his head dropped, leaving only the glow of the stone. Lhilari clutched her head and sobbed.

It was nearly full dark by the time she returned to the village. The leaf-bladed sword, taller than she was, scraped in the dirt no matter how she carried it, but it was the glowing stone that truly weighed on her.

The guard on duty stopped her when they saw the giant sword. "Where is Toa--"

"I must see the Turaga," Lhilari interrupted. "Now."

She couldn't say it. She had to explain, but she couldn't. The guard didn't try to make her, just waved her through, and Lhilari took her burden to the Turaga's hut.

He didn't say anything, just looked at her for a long moment. Then he took the broadsword from her, leaned it carefully against one wall, and took her free hand to squeeze it.

"He's--" The words caught in her throat. "I'm--"

Her Turaga touched her other hand, the one clutching the stone, and nodded. "Do you know what you must do?"

Lhilari shook her head. "You do. He. He said, you do."

"Where is he?"

Lhilari kept her eyes fixedly open, staring at the blue-white crystals in the ceiling of the hut. "Down the path. Not far."

He squeezed her hand again. "Come with me."

She went where her Turaga took her, through a secret door and down the hidden steps, cool white lightstones marking the way. He brought her to the door of a room holding nothing but a small shrine, then stopped, and lead her to a stone bench just outside it.

"Lhilari," he said softly. "Do you know what Toa Garenix asked you to do?"

She flinched. "No," she lied.

Her Turaga pressed her to sit down, then sat beside her. "You need not take up the mantle now. We have lived without a Toa before; we can again."

Lhilari stared at the green stone still in her hands. At the Toa Stone, that their Toa had given her instead of allowing her to even look at his wounds. She stared at it, and felt the power humming beneath its surface, and said nothing.

"Toa die so Matoran can live," her Turaga said softly. "If we live long enough, we cease to be Toa, but we never cease to be protectors."

"I couldn't do anything," she whispered. "He-- he wouldn't let me do anything. I-- I thought we were friends."

"Would he have entrusted you with this otherwise?"

She closed her eyes tightly. The bloody blade protruding from his back intruded on her mind, the pool that spread under him as she wept and he remained still. "He told me not to avenge him."

"That is not the way of a Toa," her Turaga murmured.

"I-- I can't-- what else am I supposed to do?" Her voice rose into a wail. "I'm not him! I can't be him!"

"Be you," her Turaga said. "Be you, and do what you can."

Later, she would. Later, with new strength in body and soul, she would lay their old Toa to rest. Later, she would learn how to be a Toa under the tutelage of her Turaga. Later, she would put the mystery of who had killed their Toa to the back of her mind, to be forgotten almost entirely over the next three centuries of wandering the continent. Later, she would mentor new Toa herself in a world gone mad.

Now, she curled around the Toa Stone Garenix had poured his life into and cried.

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Also posted on AO3:

#another lielac original #bionicle #lielac writes fic #cataclysm relief toa #stud.io #i was just doing the dioramas and then OOPS FIC LOL

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mstormcloud · 4 months

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SONIC OC!!! And Espilver fankid hehe!! People on insta helped me name her Mirai and she’s a marten! (She/her, though Espio and silver use “they” until they learn her preferred pronouns)

(The formatting on the comic part is a little scuffed it reads top left, bottom left, top center, bottom center, top right, bottom right. Sorry about that whoops)

Under the cut I’m gonna give her full lore dump which includes my headcanon on how Silvers time travel works but trust me you don’t need to read it all.

The TLDR is that Silver found her in a ruined future and in exchange for allowing her to exist outside timelines much like himself she now has time-bending powers (kinda!) She can adjust the time of any object (for example turning water into steam by sending it to its future where it evaporates.)

Ok so let’s start with Silvers time travel cuz it is actually relevant. The way I headcannon it working kinda combines all the ways we’ve seen it in canon.

I’m not gonna address 06 cause it didn’t happen in this timeline and also the method of time travel is similar to the own used in Rivals 1: using the power of the master or chaos emeralds.

So first off I headcanon that Silver being sent back to the past in rivals 1 was actually somewhat of an accident. He was on Onyx island when it was sent back. And then between Eggman Nega admitting he used the master emerald and (I have a rivals rewrite when this happens but that’s a post for another day oops) Shadow teaching Silver about the Chaos emeralds and how to harness their energy - Silver realizes he can use this power himself to send himself back in time Again but this time to stop the Ifirit from ever growing strong and therefore saving his future.

Doing this caused two things: one, now Silver himself was a living paradox where he both exists but can’t exist at once, and two: the timestones became aware of his determination to protect the world throughout all of time. The timestones then blessed Silver with the ability to exist outside the timelines and now he’s the only Silver throughout all time, but in return he now has the duty to Always save the future from destruction. The portals that appear to being Silver to the past or future when he’s needed is created by the timestones.

Now, to Mirai. Silver found Mirai in one of many ruined futures he had been called to prevent, and despite knowing that bringing anyone from the future back to the past could inadvertently cause a paradox (like he himself almost did) he knew he couldn’t just leave the child alone in a ruined future. They’d die. So he brings the child to the timestones and begs them to allow Mirai to be capable of existing outside time similar to himself so he could bring her home and she could live safely. The timestones really like Silver so they agree but also make it clear this cannot happen again.

When the time stones bless Mirai they also give her the ability to control the time of objects. She can turn water into steam, re-form broken relics, manipulates clay where she can create different weapons by sending the clay into alternate “futures” - one as a sword, one as a scythe, etc.

While this power can be very useful it’s also somewhat unreliable, so she also had Espio train her in Ninjitsu and with certain weapons.

I’m undecided on if I want her connection to the timestones mean that like Silver she has to go through the portals when they open. I think it would be interesting but idk if I can handle that level of angst oops

If you read this all thank you!!

#sonic oc #my art #mstormcloud #mirai the marten #espilver #sonic fankid #sth #silver the hedgehog #espio the chameleon #sonic #I’ve been concidering giving her a sibling as well lmao #tho unlike Mirai this one is found at Espios job #like ace attorney style adopting a child after solving a crime #but I haven’t decided yet…

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nocasdatsgay · 18 days

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Baby of Mine A Spring Time Affairs Fic

Day 7 of @polyacotarweek Free Day

Pairing: Tamlin/OC/Elain/Lucien | Rating: T| Word count: 3778

Master List | Poly Week Masterpost | Read on AO3

Summary: After Calanmai and forgetting to take the tea, Flora is pregnant. The problem is, she doesn’t know if Tamlin or Lucien is the father.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Anxiety, base level childbirth mentions, a baby

AN: WE DID IT FOLKS! Last day of the week. I can’t want to go through the Masterlist and read what I have missed while writing. Thank you for all the likes and comments. PS: Can you catch the Beast of the Briars call out?

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @ysmtttty

Tamlin said he did not care.

Lucien and Elain both said they didn’t care.

But Flora did.

The stress was evident on her face as she turned in front of the mirror, gaze dropping down to her bare stomach. She was starting to show. New clothes would be in soon, her old ones already feeling snug. She didn’t want to despise the babe in her belly but gods it was hard to not let her worries get to her.

She was Tamlin’s wife. She had a duty to him to have his heir. What would the court do if her babe came out with red hair or russet eyes? Their relationship wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew. But they’d been so careful and then Calanmai came and the one time she forgot to put contraceptives in her system, she ended up pregnant.

She hoped it was the first undiluted magic that conceived this child. Tamlin took her into the cave. They made love on that stone and released all that magic back into the world. What happened with Lucien and Elain after wasn’t under the same pull of ancient magic. But doubt plagued her. Her plants showed her there was no difference between the first wave of magic and after. It could easily be the same with her.

“Flora?” Tamlin’s voice dragged her out of her thoughts. Her gaze met his through the mirror. “Is everything alright?”

Tamlin stayed nervous about her condition. She knew why. He was worried she would fall into a depression or worse. He was constantly encouraging her to engage with the court, to go outside with Elain. It warred with his want to keep her inside and safe. His mistakes in the past haunted him. Even after all the time that passed.

“I just-“ she looked back at where her hand rested on her stomach. “You know I worry.”

“I don’t care what others may think. You know this.”

“They’ll talk, Tamlin,” tears built in her eyes. Her worries she had been holding in came tumbling out. “What good am I? If my first born is not your heir? This is a child, Tamlin. What if it is Lucien’s? What if it triggers something in Elain? They’re mates.”

“Flora.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked and tears spilt. “It’s awful to think these things, I know. I'm horrible.”

“You’re not horrible, my wildflower.” Tamlin came up to her, wrapping his arms around her. One hand splayed over her stomach. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Since I found out.”

She grabbed one of his arms with her hand to mentally steady herself. She hadn’t spoken out loud how she felt. She feigned excitement; they were so happy when her scent changed. She didn’t want to take that away from them just because she worried.

“Honey.” She winced at the sadness in his tone. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You’ll never upset me.” She felt him kiss the back of her head. “I know you worry but our babe is so loved already and that’s all that matters.”

She nodded and leaned back into the embrace of her husband. Tamlin was the most excited out of all of them. She just hoped she could match his enthusiasm sooner rather than later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She officially was showing and barely made it out alive from the Court announcement party. So many congratulations, each one meant well but still grated her. She was a perfect Lady of Spring, faking her smile and when someone did notice, it was explained off as hormones. Tam watched her the whole time, ready to scoop her up and out of the room if needed. She finally feigned tiredness and excused herself.

It was a relief to enter the empty hall. Though she was not alone for long. She made it up the stairs before running into one of the two people who put her in this predicament. Lucien’s gold eye clicked rapidly as he came up to her, studying her face. She had not seen him since his return this morning from visiting Day Court.

“How did it go?”

Flora rolled her eyes. “I swear if I hear one more congratulations I am going to vomit.”

”So it went well. Good.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “And how are you? How’s my little one?”

”I am tired and annoyed. And you don’t know for certain, if this babe is yours,” she snapped. She regretted it the second the words left her mouth. “The baby is fine, Lucien. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. That was unkind of me.”

“It was.” He didn’t hide the hurt on his face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t mean that. I’m sorry.” She looked down in shame. She’d never spoken to Lucien like that before. She was horrid.

“Flora, look at me, I do forgive you.” He reached his hand under her chin and tilted it up so she would look at him. “I get it and I’m sure the announcement party didn’t help.”

Her eyes watered. “It really didn’t. None of them have any idea. They all just assume this was planned. They all just assume this is Tamlin’s and when I try to correct them, they just -” She took a shaky breath and her hand went to the small bump poking out from her dress. “Tam says stress isn’t good for the baby.”

”It’s not,” Lucien replied. “If they’re mine, they might come out looking grumpy and be mistaken for Eris if you aren’t careful. Try explaining that to the court.”

That made her laugh. “You’re right.” She gave him a soft smile. “He’s a boy, by the way. Don’t tell Elain, she doesn’t know yet.”

Lucien’s grin beamed with likeness of the sun. “We’re having a boy?”

“Yes. We are having a boy.” She paused and bit her lip. She knew the answer but after the party, her worries continued to fall from her lips without warning. “If this is Tam’s baby, are you sure you aren’t going to be mad?”

Lucien sighed. “I’ve already told you, it doesn’t matter if he’s mine or Tam’s, he will be ours.” Lucien tapped his finger on her nose. “Get those thoughts out of your mind. Don’t let the courtiers get to you. And go tell Elain before I find her first. I won’t be able to help myself and she’ll be livid you told me first.”

Flora nodded and smiled again. Lucien always knew how to make her feel better. She stood on her toes and gave him a quick kiss before setting off to find Elain. He was right on that part; Elain was going to be livid she was the last to know.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tamlin made her nap in a guest room citing he ‘had a surprise’ for her. She was too tired to question it. Five months in and between being either absolutely insatiable and exhausted, she took his word for it and laid down. It wasn’t until after dinner that night, he escorted her to their rooms, grinning the whole time.

“What did you do?” She asked, not able to suppress her own smile.

“Come see.”

They entered through the sitting room and into their bed chamber. Nothing looked different; Tamlin guided her forward into the next room and she gasped. The nursery was finished- and fully finished. Her hand went instantly to her stomach, where she felt the flutters of life moving inside her.

“It’s beautiful,” she blinked back her tears. “Oh, Tamlin.”

She called out things as she noticed them. The walls were painted a pretty light green. A bassinet in the middle and an oak crib against the wall near their room for later. Even the rug was beautiful- her favorite flowers stitched in throughout. Other furniture filled the room, all a deep oak like the crib. There was even a rocking chair and bookshelf by the window.

“Do you notice anything else?”

She frowned, looking up at her husband’s knowing smirk. She looked around the room again- everything was new. The room even smelled of wood still. She frowned harder; that wasn’t right. She glanced around the room again and finally noticed it. A new door opposite their own.

“Where does that go?” She asked.

“To Lu and Lainy’s rooms.”

She jerked her head towards him again with her mouth open. “They’re moving? Really?”

They talked about it so often before that Flora thought it was mute at this point. She desperately wanted them to be closer than where their rooms were now on the other side of the manor but didn’t want to push them. They deserved their own space. Even with the baby- especially with the baby. But knowing they agreed to move closer- she started crying.

“We’ve been waiting for time to put the door in so they’d have access to the nursery too if needed.” Tamlin reached up and wiped her tears. “These are happy ones, correct?” She nodded. “Good. Come, I want you to pick out the curtains for the window.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three more months to go and Flora was ready to evict this baby now. Sitting was a little uncomfortable, her belly becoming rounder by the day. It didn’t help that her babe started to kick daily, for no other reason than to make his mother uncomfortable.

Even outside in the garden, where the chairs could lounge out to prop up one’s feet weren’t comfortable. It was Elain’s idea to take their tea outside today. Flora shuffled about in her chair while Elain poured tea into a cup.

“Drink this,” Elain sat the tea cup and saucer beside her.

“What is it?” Flora was scared to sniff it. Last time she smelled anything but black tea she nearly hurled. Though that was early on in her pregnancy. She avoided it ever since.

“Raspberry mint. I made it for Feyre and it seemed to help with the second pregnancy.”

She took a hesitant sip and her eyes widened right before she downed more of it. She sat back her chair and made an inappropriate noise.

“This is the best tea I’ve ever had.” She took another drink from the saucer. “Thank you Elain.”

“You’re welcome. Hopefully it calms the little rascal.”

Flora nodded and resisted the urge to down the rest of her cup. She set aside and watched Elain take a sip of her own tea.

“How are your sisters?”

Elain contemplated for a moment. Flora didn’t know if that was a bad sign or not.

“Nesta has taken on a writing project.” Elain cut her eyes to Flora with a knowing look. “A romance novel.”

Flora sat up straighter. “Really? On a scale of what I read and what you read, how smutty is it?”

“What you read. You know Nes adores those Drake books. Stands to reason she would write something equally scandalous.”

“You know you love those books too,” Flora playfully rolled her eyes. “I hope she completes it. Tell her I look forward to having a copy on my bookshelf.”

Elain grinned. “I will make sure to let her know.”

“And Feyre? How is she?”

Flora held no ill will to the female. What happened between her and Tamlin was in the past.

“She’s good. The twins are giving her hell.” Flora laughed at that. “She handed off her workshops to local artists. So now she’s only supervising the ones in Illyria and Hewn city, occasionally hosting an event.”

“I thought you mentioned she planned for that?”

Elain took a sip of her tea. “She did. She’s just been putting off for decades. She’s worse than Lucien, having her hands in so many pots.”

Flora couldn’t disagree. She picked her tea backup and drank the rest before it was too cold. It was only minutes later when she realized she could still feel the baby move but his kicking stopped.

“By the cauldron I thought he’d never stop. You’re a lifesaver, Lainy.”

She only smiled and took another sip of her tea. They settled into a nice silence but Flora’s mind spiraled. No longer focused on her baby’s excessive kicking, she couldn’t help but wonder further about Elain’s sisters. She hadn’t had time to ask. Or even think about it but now…

“Elain?” She hummed in acknowledgment. Flora smoothed out the fabric on her belly idly. “Have you explained to your sisters he might be Lucien’s?”

“I have.” She replied. “They are aware we have a different relationship, the four of us. They are understanding. You don’t know them as well as I do, but I promise they will not care. If they did, I would never let them hear the end of it.”

She accepted that response. Elain studied her for a moment, then reached over, placing her hand on Flora’s stomach.

“No matter what, this is our baby. We’ve been over this. I will love him no matter who fathered him.”

“I know, I know. Thank you.”

Elain gave her a soft smile and pulled back her hand to stand. She came over and gave Flora a quick kiss. She patted Flora’s shoulder.

“Come, let’s clean this up and go bother our husbands.” She said with a grin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The time finally came and Flora labored off and on for days. The whole time Tamlin never left her side. Lucien kept the court running and Elain took over the kitchens by cooking. She’d brought all kinds of food every few hours to see if Flora would eat. Flora took most of the pastries. She joked the baby had a sweet tooth but they all knew it was just Flora’s preference.

It felt like an eternity passed before it came time to push. Their healer in the room supervised as planned. With Lucien and Elain flanking her sides, and holding her hands, Tamlin caught their child as he was pushed out into this world. Flora should have known the second she felt the head crown and Tamlin’s widened, what was about to happen. Of course she was too focused on screaming her own lungs out from the pain and pressure to realize it for what it was.

Their healer beside him cleaned out the baby's mouth and wails filled the room. Flora was finally handed a baby boy with the brightest red hair she’d ever seen in her life. And she laughed. She laughed and cried as she pulled her baby to her chest. All those months of worry, all the love for this tiny little being she grew in her body, and all the stress from labor hit her at once.

It was bittersweet but not in the way she expected or planned for. She didn’t realize Elain had moved off the bed until Tamlin was right beside her, hands cupping her face as he kissed her forehead then her lips. He was crying too but there was no sadness in his eyes. No words were exchanged; they weren’t needed. It was their healer who finally intervened, moving Tamlin so her assistant could take the baby to clean up and she could take over for the rest of the process. Flora looked over to see Lucien and Elain still by her side. Both of them had red eyes also.

“We have a baby,” Flora choked out, tears renewed. Both of them grinned at her.

“We do,” Lucien laughed through his tears.

They both gave her a long kiss each before the healer shooed them out to give Flora some space. They all agreed when she first became pregnant that no matter what, she wanted Tamlin by her side during the first few hours of recovery. She still felt guilty sending Lucien out, knowing what she knew now.

The guilt didn’t last long when she felt like she had to push again.

Tamlin was utterly smitten. Flora watched him cradle their baby in his arms while the head healer made certain everything else was gone and felt around her stomach. He was so gentle, like he was afraid he would break him. The healer finally took the baby back to show Flora how to feed him. Once he was settled, they cleaned up and Flora moved into their room.

After some time with just her and the baby, Tamlin came back to join her on the bed. She also finally realized how exhausted she was. Being back in her own bed, with her baby calm had relaxed her heavily. Tamlin put their son in the cradle by the bed and crawled up next to her. They were silent for a long time, so much she almost fell asleep with Tamlin rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. His soft voice pulled her back from sleep.

“Flora?”

“Tam.”

“How do you feel?” He was still stroking her knuckles nervously.

“Exhausted.” She knew that’s not what he meant. “Numb. I worried so much. I was so anxious. Now it’s over and I don’t feel anything.”

“Look at me,” he pulled back and tilted her chin up gently. His sad green eyes pleaded with hers. “The second you start feeling upset or overwhelmed, you tell me. Because you will- you just had a baby, our baby. Your body might be in shock.”

He let go and she nodded. “I know. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you,” he kissed her forehead. “Do you want to bring Lu and Lainy in? Or do you want to rest?”

“They can come in. They need to meet their son proper.” She grinned when she said that. Their son. The four of them.

“I’ll get them.”

Tamlin went through the door to the nursery and shortly came back with Lucien and Elain right behind him. After a few exchanges of kisses with Flora, Lucien took the babe first. Elain came and sat by her while Lucien stood, rocking the baby gently in his arms.

Then his brows furrowed, confusion etched in his face. “Are we sure he’s mine?”

“That’s exactly what Beron said when you were born,” Tamlin replied immediately, causing Flora and Elain to snort with laughter.

“No, I mean it,” Lucien replied through his own chuckles. “His eyes are green.”

“No, they aren’t,” Flora replied.

She had stared at her son the whole time she had him and fed him. Not once did she notice his eyes being green when he opened them. Elain got up and Lucien lowered him for her to look. Shock went over her face.

“Flora, they’re green.”

They brought their son over to her. She frowned as she took him and he grunted from being passed around. It took a moment for him to open his eyes again. Flora’s mouth fell open. Her son’s eyes were green. Tamlin’s green.

Tamlin looked down at their son with a soft smile. “The Mother has a sense of humor. When we said our baby she knew we meant it.” He sighed and looked at his wife. “Do you still want to wait? Before we tell your parents he’s here?”

“Gods yes.” Flora’s parents always meant well, but were so overbearing sometimes. “I need a few days before my mother descends upon the manor. I’m also going to need all three of you here to explain this.” She smoothed her son's red hair gently.

Along with overbearing, they weren’t understanding of her relationships. They only kept their mouths shut thanks to Tamlin being High Lord. Elain’s sisters understood. Lucien’s parents understood a little too well, considering who his father was. Flora was going to have to mentally prepare for the explanations she’d have to provide. Elain pulled her from her thoughts, moving her mate to sit beside Flora.

“Have you picked the name?”

Elain looked between her and Tamlin with her big doe eyes, innocently trying to hide her excitement. She’d been begging them to tell her what they picked for weeks. A small list was made by the four of them and from there, her and Tam picked two weeks ago.

“Yes Lainey,” Flora bumped her forehead gently against Elain’s. “We’re going with Ezryn.”

“Not the grumpy one,” Lucien exclaimed albeit playfully.

Before Flora could even scold him, Ezryn grunted and shuffled in his swaddle. It would have been perfect timing if his hair hadn’t changed from bright red to brown. Her eyes widened as she just stared at her baby, silence between the four of them deafening. It was finally Elain, who said something.

“Oh he’s going to be a rascal.” She covered her mouth and looked at her mate.

Then Flora laughed again. Laughed and cried like she had when she held him for the first time. The whole time she was worried about his hair and he changed it. Which meant her worries, her acceptance of her fate, was all a waste. Tamlin was laughing too, his head on her shoulder.

“He’s worse than you,” she wiped her eyes, turning her head to her husband. “By the mother he’s only a few hours old.”

“I still think he’s Lucien’s,” Tamlin chuckled, which sent Lucien howling.

Ezryn did not like that. To be fair to him, his little fae ears could only handle so much. Tamlin took him, rocking him gently in his arms. Lucien and Elain both made their exit, promising to come back with dinner later so Flora could rest. By the time he was settled again, Flora was also nearly asleep.

“He’s going to be a menace,” she whispered after Tamlin put their son in his cradle.

“He’s our menace.” Tamlin got in the bed with her. “His powers are just fluctuating because he’s a newborn. They’ll taper out in a day or so.”

She nodded and yawned. She then snuggled up to Tamlin to try and rest, though her mind raced.

“Will you check on Lucien later?” She whispered. “I’m worried. We all thought…”

“I will, I promise.” He took her hand that laid on his chest and gently squeezed it. “I think he’s fine, but I will ask Lainy to keep an eye on him. Today was a lot for all of us.”

“It was.” She yawned again. “Thank you.”

Silence fell between them. She let Tamlin brush his fingers through her hair until she finally fell asleep.

#Theyhadababyitsa[redacted]#that is a deep cut joke #pregnancy fic #Tamlin/Flora #Tamlin/Flora/Lucien/Elain #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #tamlin #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d7 #Spring Time Affairs #Polycule Tam Lu Lainy Flora #Tamlin/OC

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the-whispers-of-death · 28 days

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Bear! Reader cannot sleep alone, so it’s not uncommon to stumble into one of his boys’ rooms at 3am with one of his big blankets asking to cuddle 🫧

I imagine it's Stone, because Stone does the same thing to you. He just pops into your bedroom whenever, because he had a flashback and the poor baby just needs a cuddle to go back to sleep. So he's the type to not judge you for coming to him instead of him coming to you.

He just loves being able to comfort you, he's so clingy and needy. Let him drape himself over you, fall asleep on top of you, It'll help with your sleep, he swears.

He's such a good cuddler, doesn't complain if you want to lay on him or be spooned instead of him being spooned. You want to be the little spoon? You can, Stone would do anything for you.

Soap eventually crashes the cuddle-session because he had gone to your room in need of a cuddle only to find you not there. And soon after that everyone else follows you.

Stone pouts as Ghost pulls you into your arms and away from Stone. Because two clingy cat-coded men can't share you apparently.

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balbigalum · 2 years

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Debt.

When Reader has to go back to King's Landing after so many years the idea of seeing Aemond again fills her with dread, she doesn't like court but know courtesies are the best weapon a Lady can have. Still, Aemond wants pay back for his eye and he will get it.

(reader is the second daughter of rhaenyra, she took aemond's eye as kids, since she took something from him he has an urge to take something from her.)

Aemond/Reader Incest +18 Enemies to lovers if you squint Words: 4.9k

hey so i haven't written anything since i was 16 years old so if some of this doesn't make any sense, or aemond is too oc, or any comment or critique you have let me know. okay i picture reader to be a little bit like sansa in the sense that she really tries to use her manners to save herself but yeah

Your younger brother’s birthright had been questioned. That’s what you heard. You had an ill habit of sneaking around the long and empty halls of Dragonstone. Both the isle and the castle could feel so… void sometimes, so you found a way to pass the time while your older brother, and heir to the iron throne, and your younger brother, and heir to Driftmark, trained on their duties. Your feet felt cold against the stone floor while you listened, barefoot to not be heard, your mother wanted to fly all of you to King’s landing. She wanted to stand in front of the king herself. You felt dread take over you, the court of King’s landing had always felt so unwelcoming to you and your brothers, young Lucerys was too little to understand but you and Jacaerys knew better, “Bastards” People would whisper too often about you all. You didn’t need to guess why Lucery’s inheritance to Driftmark was being questioned, you knew. “Bastards”

Back in your bed, after the thrill of sneaking around had died when you heard the news, you tried to recall the last time you saw the rest of your family. It had been a grim occasion, the only type of occasion that seemed to be able to pull your family all together in one place, Lady Laena’s funeral. You remember Driftmark, and the casket, and Queen Alicent’s green dress and… You remember him. Aemond. You remember what he did and what you did. He had taken Vaghar from Rhaena and you had taken his eye.

It was not often you recalled the incident, he had called Lucerys a bastard and held him by the neck, Jace’s blade was on the floor by your feet and scaring Aemond seemed like the right thing to do. You had responsibility over your younger brother and your family name, you had to act. And you did. Untrained, what you had hoped to be just a threatening move turned out to be so much more. Prince Aemond Targaryen had lost his eye that night, and Queen Alicent had demanded yours to pay the debt. That was court to you, a black nest of vipers, always out to get you and your brothers, and now you had to go back.

The morning came damp and fresh like it always did on Dragonstone, your mother told you the news over breakfast. Luke looked worried but not enough to say anything, Rhaenyra assured him that she would talk in his name and that there was nothing to worry about. The journey was about three mornings by sea, and some five hours on dragonback, but only your mother took her dragon, she wanted to show she came on peaceful terms. You didn’t feel like joining your siblings and cousins during the trip, you spent more time staring at the sea than doing anything else. You liked the sea, and you liked to travel, you just didn’t like King’s Landing.

You looked over to Daemon, your stepfather, he dreaded court as much as you in some ways, the jesters never seemed to make him laugh and he thought courtesies foolish. You thought so too yet courtesies could be useful. He smiled at you and came closer “I don’t recall you getting seasick, darling, your lord grandfather wouldn’t like it,” he was playful, his violet eyes bright, he was trying to lift your mood. “Please don’t tell the Sea Snake, I could never bear the shame.” You said dramatically and he laughed, “It will be a short stay,” he assured you “We will talk with my brother and next thing you know we’ll be out of this shithole of a city.” You saw him walk away after that. You sighed, you already missed Dragonstone and you missed your dragon.

Finally you could see the shore in the distance after some days. It was around mid-day when your mother came to you to see that you were ready for your arrival, you chose a fine silkdress in velaryion green, with some details on sea blue and gold. She had told you about her days on the Red Keep and how much she had loved her home, how much fun and enjoyment she had felt in that castle. She would often leave the grief out of her stories, even if you knew about it. She smiled at you, as soft as ever. She let you know that while Jace and Luke were expected at the throne room to discuss the politics of Luke’s inherence, your presence wasn’t as necessary. She looked hesitant at you, you knew she wanted you there next to your siblings, but she understood if you wanted to explore the keep or to keep to yourself in your chambers.

And you did, you had prepared yourself for court, wore a heavy necklace and put some colour in your face but at the last minute you couldn’t do it. You weren’t scared, you did not scare easily but you were unsure of how many friends you truly had among the court. How many of them thought of you as a bastard? How many disliked your mother or Daemon? You did not want to know. You stood in your room pacing around, you felt almost suffocated by the high walls of the keep. Your room back at Dragonstone had open walls that looked over the sea, so big your own Dragon could come to visit you sometimes, peering his curious eyes through the balcony. But now you were locked in. So you did what you did best, you took off your shoes and opened the door.

The Keep had been built by Maegor, as red and cruel as he was, you heard there were secret passages and halls and to be fair you wanted to see how true that was. Sneaking around was easy while most guards and nobles were at court, you did pass some Ladies and servants but none seemed to pay you any attention. Stairs, and long hallways, doors that were closed and some other that open small passages in between walls. Finally you arrived at some distant part of the castle, you couldn’t tell if it was the west side or maybe the east side, maybe the next door would take you to the Tower of The Hand, you couldn’t help but giggle a little over this, you were truly enjoying yourself.

You stood before a long hall, empty. Probably a forgotten part of the castle, you could see an arch that led to a library, maybe where the Maester spent most of his time, maybe the people of the court thought too high of themselves to pick up a book. Either way, you were having fun, so you made a run for it. Your long dress felt soft against your legs as you ran through the empty hall, you were laughing to yourself, this was much better than whatever was happening at the Throne Room, it almost felt like Dragonstone and then it didn’t.

You stopped all at once at the arch that led to the library. Your breathing was harsh and you still held your skirts in your hands, a shiver ran up your back and you held them even tighter. Aemond. Prince Aemond, your uncle, the “one eye” prince was sitting between the books. Why was he not at court? Doing whatever princes are supposed to do at court. It was too late to turn back and find a way back to your mother or to Daemon or to Jace or Luke or anybody, he saw you.

His lilac eye sized you up, like he could not believe it, the rest of his face did not show emotion. You stood still, trying to command your face to do the same. He dropped the book he was reading and finally broke the silence. “Lady Strong,” You dropped your skirts finally. “How odd to see you here.” He was mocking, a smirk on his lips. “Do not call me that.” “Or what?” He stood up. “You’ll take my other eye?” You looked away, you didn’t like thinking back to that night, something broke in your family that day and it was never the same after. He hummed. “What’s wrong my Lady?” He was coming closer now. “Can’t find your words?”

You finally found your strength and looked back to him. He was taller now, his hair was pearl and he dressed in black. “I don’t think it is proper to talk about such things,” Since you were at King’s Landing you might as well use the courtesies septas had tried to teach you so many times. “Uncle.” You added after a beat. He seemed to think for a second, “Such things?” “Yes, such things.” For a moment you thought he wanted to say something else but two guards doing their usual round walked by. You could feel his stare as you left following the guards, it burned your back, he did not move from where he stood at the door of the library.

By the time you came back your siblings and cousins were back too, they told you Luke’s inheritance was saved and that they have been betrothed to each other. You congratulated them, it was a good match after all, the people you loved with the people you loved. When you asked where your parents were at they finally let you in the bloody details about what happened to Vaemond Velaryon at the hands of Daemon and how they had to talk some things out with the King himself about it. You thought about whenever you should get a sword too, maybe one day when your mother sat the throne you would get one, that was the only way to face the nobles of the court and their accusations. You kept your encounter with Aemond to yourself and made a note to at least carry a small blade next time you left your room.

A dinner was planned, hosted by the King himself. You sat next to Lucerys who sat next to Rhaena, Aegon had found his place to your right and in front of you, against your own desires, sat Aemond. You would not be intimidated by him, not in a room surrounded by your family, yet his presence was too strong to ignore. You could feel him looking at you through the night but you didn’t let him intimidate you, you stared back. You could read anger all over his face, and something else you could not tell. You weren’t the Ladies of the court, you were a dragonrider and a Targaryen by your mother, you were not scared of a mauled face. You held his gaze and used the opportunity to study his face. He had grown as much as you did, his features were sharper and his skin pale, everything about him was pale. Your eyes wandered up and down him, his long hair, his arms holding a cup, his hands with long and pale fingers. You wondered if years of sword training had made them rough... And then the servants put a plate in front of him, roasted pork and he turned to anger. His hands put down the cup he was drinking from harshly against the table as he stood up, you looked at Lucerys as he smiled, this was his idea. You kicked him under the table as Aemond picked up the cup again to speak. You wanted to tell Luke that this was not a good idea, that the people of King’s landing had no humour, including their own kin, but Aemond spoke first.

“Final tribute...” The music stopped. “To the health of my nephews and niece, each one of them handsome, wise,” He made a pause while the promise of a smirk played on his lips, you swallowed. “Strong... Come let us drain our cups to these strong heirs.” Jace stood up harshly, his hands fisted to his sides, he wanted to fight, the tension was too high to bear, before Jace could speak you stood up too.

“A dance?” You said, looking at Aemond. All the eyes in the room shifted to you, you were not going to allow these people to think the worst of you and your brothers. You walked closer to Aemond and offered him your hand. “A dance, uncle?” You repeated while you gestured to the band to play again. Aemond seemed intrigued, he knew he was provoking your brothers but he didn’t expect this response. He took your hand and led you to the empty side of the room where you could dance, Jace did the same with Helaena.

He knew the moves but felt stiff, as if he had been taught the technique but never tried it himself. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking above you, scanning the room probably, seeing what your brothers might do. His hands held your waist and your own hand tightly, you wondered if he could tell how harsh he was being. To answer your own question, his hand actually felt soft and cold, he shifted the one on your waist and that was when he finally bothered to look down at you. “What is this? A dagger?” He knew the answer, he was just letting you know that he knew. “Yes,” You said. “Who were you planning on using it on this time?” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his eye was back at the table while you danced. “Nobody, it’s for protection. I don't know this place.” You explained, your gut felt knotted, he was referring to the incident again. Had he truly never gotten over it? Or was he just holding it above your head, knowing how uncomfortable it made you? “Well... I guess you already know how to use it, would love to see you try to get a sword out with this butter knife of yours.” You looked away this time, it was hard to keep your head up with his cutting words.

The night had ended in tension, nothing big enough to worry about, nothing your family wasn’t used to. You excused yourself to your chambers as soon as you could, yes, you had stopped Jace and Aemond from ripping each other’s throat, but dancing with Aemond had left a bitter taste on your tongue. You felt guilty about his eye, you never stopped feeling guilty after that night so many years ago but you couldn’t find yourself feeling bad for him. His mother had tried to take yours, she had hurt your own mother, Aemond had called your little brother a bastard and then called all of you bastards in front of the King himself. He had taken Vaghar. He was poisonous like Queen Alicent. You lay on your bed with the blade in your hand, twisting it around, sleep came to you late and dreamless, you could still feel the ghost of Aemond’s hands on you.

You didn’t see Aemond after that dinner, you stayed in your room and sometimes visited your grandfather at his bed. He was growing sicker everyday, you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could. Sometimes the Queen Alicent would come by, she would help her husband and maybe compliment your dress. She looked tense, you wondered if it had to do with your mother’s presence in the castle or if that had been her natural state since Laena’s funeral. Some nights you’d overstay at your grandfather’s room while he slept, looking through his books and the small built of Old Valyria he had on the tables. Once when you were going back to your room you swore you saw prince Aegon being dragged by two guards in the dead of night, he looked drunk.

Tonight was one of those nights when you stayed with the King even when he slept. The doors of the room opened and Queen Alicent entered the room. “Princess... I didn’t see you,” She said. “Your grace.” You replied. “Sweet child shouldn’t you be in bed by now?” You nodded but didn’t move from your spot reading the spine of the books on Visery’s shelf. “So you should go,” She said, you finally looked at her... Gods she looked nervous. You nodded again. “Goodnight, Your Grace.” You smiled at her, you tried to make it a warm smile and she smiled back, tense.

You closed the door behind you and saw Ser Criston Cole and Aemond standing by, probably guarding the Queen. “Princess,” Ser Criston said but you were looking at Aemond, he looked... Angry? He was hard to read but he seemed more uneasy than normal, his right hand was fidgeting with the handle of his sword. He didn’t acknowledge you, you nodded at Ser Criston and started making your way back to your room.

You were walking through the darkness of the Keep, illuminated by small flames along the walls when you heard him. “Riña,” Aemond was following you, you quickened your pace. You could hear his heavy boots echo across the halls. What did he want? Why couldn’t he just let it go? “Ao enkagon iā gēlȳn” Your high valyrian wasn’t as sharp as it should be, you felt cold sweat in the back of your neck, you only understood one word: Debt. You couldn’t handle it anymore you started running, you swear you could hear his laugh, loud in your ears, he sounded nothing like the composed prince he was known as. You ran and you ran until you finally reached your room. You closed the door behind you, breathing heavily, you leaned against it, you couldn’t take your hand off the handle, you were scared if you did he would open the door. You stayed like that for a while. Listening. Trying to figure out if he was out there. Your heart hammering away in your chest. Debt. Debt. Debt.

You awoke with your back against the door, body sore and cold from sleeping on the floor all night. You had a bitter taste in your mouth and could still feel some sweat clinging to your back. Have you had a nightmare? Were your memories of Aemond torment true? Suddenly you felt like a fool, was Aemond really chasing you through the halls? That couldn’t be, right? Were you losing your mind with every passing second in the Red Keep? The strength of every ghost dead by the hands of a Targaryen finally coming for you? Was this how the madness started?

You felt an urge to pray, to the Mother or the Warrior for protection, maybe to the old gods even – but you knew better, you were a Targaryen by blood and heart, there were no gods in the sky, only dragons. Your heart felt heavy with sorrow, oh how you missed your dragon.

You didn’t leave your room much after that, your mother had decided to extend your stay at King’s Landing to get accustomed to her own future Queenly tasks. With your grandfather so ill it was a matter of time before her ascent to the throne. You did not want to worry her in such times, some nights you thought maybe of telling her... No, begging her to take you to Dragonstone on dragonback, just a couple of hours and you’d be home or even better you could bring your own dragon back to King’s Landing and things would be easier.

It was one of those mornings when you debated what to ask your mother for when you heard a knock on your door. You didn’t know when was the last time you’ve seen a person besides that one servant that brought you food. You crawled out to bed and opened it. Aemond. “Princess,” He spoke before you could close the door. “Your mother has grown worried about your absence, she originally commanded Aegon to accompany you on a walk... Yet it seems like he has lost himself somewhere,” He didn’t look happy about it. “So it’s up to me to attend his duties.” He commanded a servant that was standing in the hall. “Wash her. Get the Princess ready, her mother commands.” It was clear he did not care what you thought about any of this.

The servant girl kept quiet while she helped you and you were thankful for that. She helped you into a deep red velvet dress with black detailing, a ruby in the center of the neckline. When the door opened again Aemond was waiting for you as collected as ever. The promise of sunshine sounded nice but some dread found its way to your stomach. You tried to ignore it as Aemond offered you his arm. He was wearing all back again and his long sword rested on his hip.

You two walked for some time in silence through the garden, the birds were out and it felt nice. Your mother was right, you needed this. After some time you felt less tense, Aemond was known as a gentleman, the memories of him chasing you seemed to align more to a bad dream rather than a true event, you tighten your grip in his arm. “Tell me something, Uncle. You’re always reading, right? Tell me something you read about.” You said softly, enjoying the morning. He let out a small grunt. “I’m here to keep you company, not to talk” You pursed your lips. “Please?” You asked, voice small, he tensed under your touch, when you looked up to him he was already looking at you, an expression you couldn’t recognize. “You—” He took a harsh breath and grabbed you by the arms. “Who do you think you are?” He seemed puzzled... and mad. “I’m sorry, uncle, I didn’t mean to nag you, I just wanted—” “You want. You want. You always want and you take, don’t you? You’re a spoiled brat that always gets what she wants aren’t you?” You shook your head, you didn't mean it that way, and he was grabbing you so hard. “No, no, I’m sorry.”

He dragged you towards a hall and into a small room filled with books and herbs, a small table, it was an apothecary probably a place where the Maester worked. He threw you in and closed the door. He was pacing around like a locked animal, you didn’t know what to say. “Aemond...” You just wanted to go back to your room. He grabbed you by the jaw, not as harsh, and locked his eye with you. Lilac and menacing. “There is a debt to be paid,” He said, so it wasn’t a nightmare. Here before you stood Aemond, his composture lost, talking about a debt, talking about his eye. “And you will pay it, if I can’t take your eye then I will take something else.” You shook your head, he used his other hand to grab you by the back of your head. You were tired and he was hurting you. “You owe a debt.” Again. And Again. “Look at what you did.” Until he was yelling it to your face, he ripped the patch that covered his scarred eye. A saphire in its place, and that’s when it sinked. He didn’t know it was an accident. “I’m sorry,” you said but it sounded like a whimper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” You closed your eyes and you felt the sting of tears. “It was an accident, the knife wasn’t mine it was Jace’s, I was only trying to scare you, Aemond, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” You realize you had never apologized, not even explained yourself, you had told your own mother the story but never Aemond, all these years he thought you had wanted to hurt him. “No,” He said. You nodded. “I’m sorry, Aemond, I wish I could make it better.” You touched his face softly, your thumb brushing his scar lightly. He leaned into the touch. “You don’t mean that.” He said, sounding like a kid again, vulnerable. “Yes I do, Aemond.”

And he kissed you.

He kissed you deeply like no man had ever kissed you. He pressed you against him. “You are going to make it better,” He said against your lips, you let out a small noise, confused. “You’ll show me how much you mean it, how sorry you are.” He kissed you again and his hands started to explore you, your back and your waist, his long pale fingers all over you. He kissed your jaw and he was surprisingly gentle about it. “Aemond, please you shouldn—” “Don’t speak.” He said sharply and turned you around, your hands on the small table helping you support yourself. He held you by the waist, you could feel his weight on your back keeping you there, his breath warm on the back of your neck. “There is a debt to be paid, and you’ll pay it,” He kissed your neck. He breathed you in softly, again the gentleman in him showing through. “You’re beautiful,” He said, it sounded like he was talking to himself like maybe you were not supposed to hear. “You come back, after all this time, and you are beautiful.” He sighed and let his forehead rest against the back of your neck as he hiked your skirts up. You felt warm as if sunlight was bathing you, his touch was gentle, as gentle as he could be. You didn’t know what to reply or even if you were supposed to do so. Blindly you looked for his hand until you found it on your hip, you held it to your mouth and kissed his knuckles. He took a breath in. “Let me have you and there will be no debt left.” He said as you heard the clanking of his belt and the loud thud of his sword hitting the ground.

One of his hands, that always felt cold, found your core between your legs, you could feel your own shoulders shaking as his finger slid between your folds. “Uncle,” You didn’t mean to gasp so loudly but you were not used to this treatment. He shushed you. “Stay still,” He slowly rubbed you while he kissed your shoulder and neck. Your heart rate started to pick up until your skin felt hot. “That’s it.” He said as he slipped one of his fingers in, you whined. “Aemond,” You sounded like you were begging, you weren’t sure what for, he hummed behind you. “You sound so pretty.” He commented and one finger turned to two, his other hand groped at your chest, wherever he could, you felt like you were tingling, wet and desperate.

He took his fingers out of you. “Aemond, I—” You gasped, you couldn’t help yourself. “Is this what you want?” He asked and you shook your head no remembering what he had told you in the garden, you are not a spoiled brat, you closed your eyes and tried to still your breathing. “You do want.” He said again and it wasn’t a question this time. “It’s alright to want.” He said “It’s alright to want me” And you did. You wanted him. “You,” You said and your voice sounded foreign in your own ears, you’d never sounded this way before. “Please, you.” You told him.

He entered you slowly while holding your hips, he groaned and you whimpered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, the pace was satisfying you in ways you didn’t know you needed. Small sounds escaping your lips as he trusted in and out of you, your maidenhood was his now, the debt had been paid, yet you desired to stay like this always. “Aemond,” You whined his name as his hand snaked around you to touch your cunt, he kept kissing whichever part of you the dress allowed him to. “Your honour won’t be tainted,” He said, his breathing heavy. “I won’t tell, nobody has to know.” His hand was moving faster and he was getting rougher, a new sensation formed in the pit of your stomach, bliss was invading your veins and you could tell it was invading his too. His pace was quicker and sloppier. “I won’t let them humiliate you, I- I’ll take you as my wife,” A groan interrupted him. “Please, let me take you as my wife.” “Aemond...” You whined high pitched. “Aemond I feel—” He fucked into you harder and you felt how your stomach bursted into a thousand dragonflies, you moaned his name and you could feel him holding you even thigher, fucking into you harder and harder until his own orgasm hit.

You stayed tangled together catching your breath. You turned around and buried your head in the croak of his neck, now you were breathing him in. He smelled woody and like mint leaves, you left a small kiss on his neck. “I meant it,” He said finally. “I’ll ask for your hand in marriage, you won’t have to face any shame. And if you don’t want... me, I won’t tell about this.” You shook your head from the spot in his neck and you heard him say “Oh.” Disappointment and guilt creeping up his back. “You come with me,” You said. “To Dragonstone. You, me, Vaghar, and Myrax... We could live away from all of this.” You knew the high lords and ladies weren’t kind to him either. “We could fly east, see the wonders across the narrow sea.” You said looking at him, really looking at him, not at the one-eye prince, looking at Aemond.

He hummed as he often did, you noticed, and gave you a small smile. “I have so much to learn from you, don’t I?” He asked you playfully. “My Lady Strong?” He smiled, a real smile.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon

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duckyhowls · 1 year

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Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Baratheon(Lannister) OC - 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 (P2)

DuckPanda Original - PART 1 Daenerys Targaryen x Lannister!OC (Mercia Baratheon)

SUMMARY: The young queen, Mercia Baratheon, is the last living heir to King Robert after all three of her siblings die horrible deaths. As the Seven Kingdoms are on the brink of collapse, Mercia does all she can to hold it all together - though struggles arrive when the Long Night draws near, and The Dragon Queen comes for her throne. But perhaps there is a compromise they can arrange?

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Mercia stroked the soft neck of her loyal lioness, Potami, who sat committedly at her legs as the Queen rested upon the Iron Throne.

Once again, the young queen was holding court with at least a hundred guards rowed on either side of the room, something that Mercia did just to ease her mother's paranoia. For all of Mercia's siblings had been killed, two out of three were assassinated – so she didn't blame her mother for becoming desperate to have a ridiculous number of guards positioned to protect her last remaining child.

Near Mercia's lioness stood The Mountain, only two paces left of the throne with Maester Qyburn. On Mercia's right was her uncle and her mother, staring down stoically at all of the lords that Mercia had summoned to Kings Landing to speak with.

"If the last Targaryen takes the Iron Throne, she'll destroy the realm as we know it," Mercia spoke, not taking her eyes away from her lioness whose piercing, blue gaze scanned the lords below. "Some of you are bannermen of House Tyrell, but House Tyrell is in open rebellion against the crown. With their help, the Dragon Queen has ferried an army of Dothraki to our shores. Unsullied soldiers who will destroy your castles and your holdfasts for their queen without a second thought. Her armies will burn your villages to the ground, rape and enslave your women and butcher your children."

Mercia lifted her green gaze to the many lords standing before her, all of them listening intently, hanging on to every single word that came out of her lips. "This is how Olenna Tyrell rewards centuries of service and loyalty?"

Her mother then spoke up, stone-faced. "You all remember the Mad King," she called out. "Do you remember the horrors he inflicted upon his people? His daughter is nothing less."

Mercia glanced at her mother for a moment. She hated it whenever her mother sounded so sure. Mercia, despite being the Dragon Queen's enemy, knew from the accounts of spies that Daenerys was nothing like the Mad King. From all that Mercia has witnessed through reports, Daenerys Targaryen was an anti-slavery monarch whose only goals are to free the people of the world and take back her ancestral throne. That, in itself, was different, but not mad in the slightest. Nonetheless, they had to convince the lords to join their forces with the crown. For the sake of Mercia and her family’s lives at least.

"In Essos, her brutality is already legendary." The words tasted bitter in Mercia's mouth, as she forced herself to twist these stories to make the Targaryen Queen sound like a mad tyrant. "She has crucified hundreds of noblemen in Slaver's Bay. When she grew bored of that, she fed everyone that opposed her to her dragons. It is my sworn duty before the faith to protect the people, and I will, but I need your help, my Lords."

"We must stand together," Cersei interjected once again, sounding confident and determined to convince these men to side with them. "All of us. If we hope to stop her."

The lords whispered amongst themselves for a moment before Lord Tarly stepped forward, stoic and tall as he addressed the young queen. "Your Grace, forgive me but she has three full-grown dragons. The same as Aegon when he conquered the Seven Kingdoms. How do you propose to stop them? With your lions?" Some men in the room laughed.

Mercia's hand that was stroking Potami's fur went still, and her eyes met the old Lord's. Then, she turned her head to Maester Qyburn and nodded to him.

The thin, frail man looked over at the lord, blank-faced as usual. "We are currently at work on a solution, my Lord."

Mercia stood then, clasping her hands together and giving the lords a small smile. "Please, discuss this together. Take your time, we have all day. For now, I must insist that I get off this damned, uncomfortable chair. I will call for the court again in a few hours."

Turning to her lion, she lightly tapped her hand on her thigh once. "Come, Potami."

The lords all watched the young Queen leave the throne room with the huge tawny lioness loyally trotting at her heels.

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"I am Eddard Stark," said the man that had been forced to kneel before the enraged common people of Kings Landing. "Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King."

The man glanced towards his right, where, nearby, his eldest daughter, the Lady Sansa Stark, nodded to him in encouragement. On her left was the newly titled queen regent, Cersei Lannister, her golden hair long and ever so beautiful. She was smiling proudly at her eldest son, the newly crowned King of Westeros, Joffrey Baratheon, who stood near Eddard Stark, smirking satisfyingly at the discord before him.

Mercia watched with a frown from Sansa Stark's right as the man, her late father’s closest friend, who had been in the dungeons for days, was now being publicly humiliated. Mercia had never felt this ashamed of her brother as she did now, watching Joffrey seem so pleased at this poor man's suffering. Despite being a traitor to the crown, Mercia only had heard such kind things about Eddard Stark, that he was the most honourable and one of the most prominent lords in the country. And with every spoken word they have exchanged, even if there wasn’t much to be said, he always treated her with kindness and the upmost respect. This lord did not deserve this shame.

Looking away, down to the ground now, Eddard Stark continued. "I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of the Gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children, but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son... and seize the throne for myself."

What? Mercia whipped her head to look at her mother, Cersei, who turned to look at her with a small smile, though the young girl could see the harsh warning behind the older one's green gaze. ‘Do not say a word’.

Meanwhile, the crowd had erupted in an outroar, one peasant in the sea of people even throwing a small stone at Lord Stark's head, causing the man to gasp in pain as blood seeped through the wound and drip from his brow. Beside Mercia, Sansa gasped and grasped the princess’ hand. Mercia turned her head away from the sight, squeezing Sansa’s hand back.

"L-let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, by the grace of all the Gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." Through every word, Eddard Stark's face contorted, as if he were in pain of speaking falsehoods. Mercia knew of the letter and will her father had left behind, asking his friend to rule until Joffrey came of age.

The crowd murmured amongst themselves angrily, but Maester Pycelle stepped forward. "As in sin, this man has confessed to his crimes in sight of Gods and men. The Gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." Maester Pycelle then turned to Joffrey and bowed his head. "What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?" he asked, spitting the words as if the man accused was some worthless demon.

The crowd jeered and called out angrily, but Joffrey raised his hand with a pleased smile, as if all this chaos excited him. Mercia knew that it did.

The crowd went silent, and Joffrey spoke, "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile," he continued, looking to his betrothed, the Lady Sansa. "And my Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father."

The Lady Sansa smiled softly at the King and Mercia frowned. She knew her brother better than to be someone of mercy.

She was right when he announced his next words, and Eddard Stark's head was put to the sword and placed on a spike on the city walls for months.

Mercia never forgot the Lady Sansa's screams that dreadful day.

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Part 3 Coming Soon!

#daenerys x reader #part 2 #joffrey baratheon #sansa stark #cersei lannister #ned stark #game of thrones #dany x reader #fem x fem #queen #lannister #baratheon #targaryen #dragons #kings landing #maester pycelle #the mountain #khaleesi

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starogeorgina · 1 year

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Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Targ oc, Minor Aemond Targaryen x Targ oc

Notes: In this story, Aegon and Helaena aren't married, and Aegon isn't anywhere near as bad as he is in the show (he hasn't SA or raped anyone)

1.01

You picked at the food on your plate, uninterested in what was going on around you. Many great houses had gathered to celebrate your marriage to Aemond, but you felt nothing but sorrow. Targaryen weddings weren’t something to be missed as they were celebrated as grand events, but you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

You look to your left and smile slightly, seeing your father laugh while talking to his brother; he looked genuinely happy. He had been sick for a long time and didn’t show signs of improving. You just hoped you’d be able to bear a child before he passed away. After all, that was your duty.

The thought sent a chill up your spine.

Your father had hoped such a large event would help close the gap between your two families, but you didn’t have much faith. You loved Rhaenyra and adored her sons; it broke your heart to see the way your mother treated them. Many times over the years you’d heard Ser Criston Cole slandering your oldest sibling, including calling her a spoiled cunt. Your mother would give him a look but never once correct him.

Fast-paced music and roars of laughter filled the room while everyone enjoyed themselves. You smile, noticing Helaena and Jace dancing. Jace was always kind to your sweet sister, while most mocked her for being different. You and Helaena weren’t so different; you too were haunted by the visions in your dreams. not that anyone listened when you spoke about them.

When your mother sits in the chair beside you, you take a large gulp of wine. She reaches out and touches the necklace hugging your neck, asking, “Where did you get that?”

The disapproval on her face was obvious; she had wanted you to wear a star-shaped necklace to show your commitment to the Faith of the Seven. Your queen mother had picked your dress, which was extremely modest and uncomfortable; your hair was braided so tight it hurt your scalp. Your necklace was the only thing that made you feel normal.

The black dragon wrapped around your neck was a perfect replica of your dragon, Dallax the Dark. It even had a red jade stone to match his red eyes.

“It was a gift.”

“A gift?” She asks in a low voice, “A gift from who?”

“Me,” Aemond says, chiming in with a smirk. “I know how much Theodora cares for her beast and thought it would be the perfect wedding gift.”

You resist the urge to call him a liar as your mother compliments him on getting you such a considerate gift; if she knew Aegon had gifted it to you, her reaction would have been much different. The tension between your mother, Aegon, and you had been building for some time. You roll your eyes and finish your drink.

—

You don’t feel a spark of enjoyment for the remainder of the evening until your eyes land on Aegon; the look he gives you set something alight. He struts through the hall, paying no mind to those dancing around him; the table becomes quiet when he stands in front of you. Both your new husband and mother look unimpressed between the two of you.

“I’m surprised to see you; you disappeared after the ceremony,” you say with narrowed eyes. Moments after you and Aemond exchanged vows, Aegon left, embarrassing your mother and angering your father. Personally, you weren’t surprised he’d left.

He grins, ignoring your comment, and extends his hand, asking, “May I have this dance?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls on the corner of your lips. You accept his hand and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor. You dance in silence, aware that all eyes are on you by anyone who isn’t too drunk. You notice Daemon whispering in Rhaenyra’s ear while looking in your direction smiling, while your father looks concerned.

“I’m surprised you're still sober. I thought you would be passed out in a dark hole in Silk Street.”

Aegon spun you, then pulled you in close, his arm wrapped around your waist. “I always knew you’d make a beautiful bride.”

His words make you blush. You knew Aemond wouldn’t use a word like beautiful to describe you. You snort, “This dress is hideous.”

The white puffy sleeves were overly puffy, along with the rest of the outfit. Your larger chest was noticeable underneath most clothing, so your mother made it her mission to conceal it. It would bring great shame to your family if the tiniest hint of your upper body were to be shown.

“Gods, I’ve never seen such a miserable bride.” He lets go of your waist and begins dancing with you again. “Do you trust me?”

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

“It depends on what it is.”

Aegon suddenly stops dancing and grips your face, forcing you to make eye contact. “I’ve got an idea. Follow me outside.”

“I can’t leave my own wedding.”

Aegon clenches his jaw, frustrated. “Tonight you will be his. You will perform your duty as a wife and hate it; you might as well spend the next few hours enjoying yourself.”

You chew on your bottom lip while thinking about his words. “Fine, but we’ll need to run before mother has someone drag me back.”

—

“Dracarys!”

You hear Aegon laughing as Sunfyre dodges Dallex’s flames. Growing up, you and your brother often got into trouble for playing the dangerous game with your dragons. The words were never set out loud, but all four of you knew that it was only playful, and the dragons never posed a real threat to each other. You enjoyed watching Aegon on edge. Dallax was so dark that he blended into the night sky, making it harder for any other Dragonriders to see him.

Reluctantly, you return Dallax and Sunfyre to the dragon pit. When you reached the top of the staircase, you were greeted by your mother and her sworn protector. “Ser Criston, please escort my son back to the wedding,” she said sternly. When they had both gone, she glared at you and said, “On your wedding night?”

You look down at the ground, not knowing what to say.

“Theodora!” She snaps. “Do you have any idea how many people saw you leave with Aegon? What will they think? Your recklessness has caused this house great shame. Why must you do this today? of all days.”

Anger boils inside you. “We didn’t need a big wedding. It could have been small and over by now. Nobody wanted this marriage except you.”

Your father had suggested betrothed you to Jacaerys, which wouldn’t have been terrible. You weren’t in love with Jace, but you did care deeply for him, and he was always kind to you. Your mother refused and said it would be better to stick to the Targaryen custom of marrying you to one of your brothers, crushing you. The day you turned sixteen, Aegon begged your mother to allow him to marry you, but she refused and said only when she was cold in the ground may you wed, which meant she intended for you to marry Aemond.

She sighs and gently places her hands on your shoulders, saying, “I didn’t do this to punish you. It is your duty, and where there is duty, there is sacrifice.”

You push her hands off you and say, “You did it because I remind you of Rhaenyra.”

“Where would you get an idea like that?” She's taken aback by your words.

“Father says it all the time, and I see the way you look at me when he does,” you say, blinking away tears. “I don’t see any other reason why you fight so hard to keep me and Aegon apart.”

“How is it that you can be so shortsighted? If Rhaenyra comes into power... she will cut off any challenge to her succession, and Aegon is the king's firstborn son.”

“I know all this; you’ve told us time and time again how Rhaenyra will come for us all one day,” you say with a hint of sarcasm, earning a scolding glare. “But how does this prevent us from being together? Rhaenyra wouldn’t just come for Aegon; she would come for all of us, regardless of who he is married to.”

Your mother shakes her head and says, “You poor clueless girl. Aemond would continue to fight for his family with you by his side, but Aegon? He would give it all up if he thought that’s what you wanted.”

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x you #Aegon II Targaryen #HOTD #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #Aegon II Targaryen/you #aemond targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x oc #children of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen/oc #Aegon ii Targaryen x fem oc #aegon targaryen x fem oc #Aegon Targaryen x oc

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dreamersinthedaylightinspo · 1 year

Text

THE DREAMERS IN THE DAYLIGHT: HIGH LADY

Scene: Feyre takes the Stand

WARNING: This fic is strongly Feysand-critical, and contains OCs who do not have their backstories described in the below scene. This is a scene from my fic, the Dreamers in the Daylight, which is in drafting stages. I've made efforts to tag properly here on Tumblr but please be forewarned when you read.

With the chime of a bell, the court was now in session.

Feyre sat up straight on the stand, recalling her lessons with Rhys. Look only at Eunomia - not the Night Court. Here, against her, it would be no good to show vulnerability. The Keeper of Laws and Scales had no feelings - a heart of pure stone - and she would take Feyre's natural desire to seek her mate's support and guidance as a weakness to exploit. She must only be the High Lady of Night, seated above everything and everyone.

Eunomia thumbed carefully through her stack of papers and files. Feyre spared a glance for the assembled Courts in the galleries above then. As expected, Tamlin was seated near the rail, flanked by his young sentry. He watched as Eunomia, satisfied now with her organization, straightened her back and approached the bench. The Keeper's golden robes swished softly around her sandaled ankles as she stepped lightly across the mosaic floor.

Feyre drew her eyes to Eunomia's just as Tamlin shifted his gaze to the bench. To her.

She schooled her face unto cool neutrality, despite the surge of anger she felt.

They really were two little peas in a pod, Feyre thought.

She expected the sound of Rhys's dark, melodious laugh at her remarks - but there was only silence.

The spell - the invocation of Truth - it had blocked their abilities. For the first time in years, Feyre was utterly alone inside of her own head.

A pang of unease struck as she instinctively dug down for that bridge, that bond - but there was nothing. Only quiet and memories. Her own memories, and nothing of Rhysand.

Feyre risked a glance at the assembled Night Court - her sisters, her family, her mate. Nesta was busy caring for Nyx, but Cassian had arrived, seated on Rhysand's right side.

Her mate locked eyes with her, and nodded.

"My lady, I have asked you a question. "

Feyre emerged, into reality. "Repeat it, if you please."

No apologies. Not for this female - not now. Eunomia repeated, "I have asked you to identify your name for our record."

"Feyre Archeron, the Cauldron-Breaker, High Lady of Night, Defender of thr Rainbow."

"Strike the High Lady's additional titles," Eunomia said, with a glance towards the shifting quill scratched notes on an endless roll of parchment. The quill immediately drew lines through its previous work. "In future, my lady, please use only your name and your official titles for identification purposes."

"If you insist."

"I do, thank you. Do you understand your duties here?"

"I am to tell the truth."

"That is correct. You swore an oath. Do you also understand why you are here?"

"I am here," said Feyre, "to correct a great injustice and misunderstanding that you seem to have about my Court."

Eunomia didn't rise to the taunt. "Can you elaborate on your point?"

"The Night Court has not always been a steadfast or reliable ally and friend to the peoples of Prythian," said Feyre, putting a hand over her heart as she addressed the assembled lords and ladies. "However, your accusations - your crusade - is in vain. You seem to have some strange ideas about our role in the tragic events of the past. I believe that we will be able to correct your misunderstandings today."

Silence was to be expected, but Feyre decided that she had made a decent show of it. The trick was not to be overly flashy - trying to make herself more eloquent never served - but to be sincere, and she was. They had to remember that Eunomia was at fault. She had called this trial for revenge. The Night Court's mistakes were their own.

Eunomia merely raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Let's begin, then. Can you describe your duties as High Lady of Night?"

Feyre replied, "I manage correspondence and arrange meetings. I also preside over the Hewn City on occasion. I listen to and hear our people’s concerns, and alleviate them. I organize and find solutions to our problems. I find it best to interact personally with our people – to meet with them as individuals, rather than as a faceless mass of subjects. I also teach in Velaris.”

"What do you teach?"

"Art. I'm a painter."

"I see. And what else?"

Feyre blinked. "I'm sorry?"

And winced - that was too close to an apology, even if she hadn't meant it as such. She should have said, "I beg your pardon?" or "Excuse me?" or something else more - High Ladyish.

"What else is there?" Eunomia asked. "Do you have any other responsibilities?"

Feyre's gut suddenly clenched. "I don't like what you're implying."

"I am not implying anything. It is important, before we proceed, that we have the most accurate information. I am asking if you have any other responsibilities that you may have neglected to mention."

Inhale, exhale. Her explosion of temper had saved her once, but not now. Not now. "No, that's all."

"I see. You have described some managerial duties. Can you elaborate on this more? Do you manage any of the Night Court's correspondence with foreign nations?"

"No."

"Do you manage anything with regards to trade, either between foreign nations or the other sovereign Courts?"

"Not directly, no."

"Do you manage anything with regards to the Night Court's military - for example, do you train and manage units of soldiers?"

"No."

Feyre winced again. She'd gotten into a rhythm and answered without thinking. She was a fighter. A warrior, like her mate. She should have said yes - even if, technically, Eunomia's question was not about her own fighting prowess.

But the Keeper merely continued, "Do you manage any diplomatic relations between the other sovereign Courts of Prythian?"

This was a trap. This was a trap. Without her bond with Rhysand, filling the emptiness inside of her, she might as well have been that teenage girl in the woods, freezing and alone again. Eunomia's eyes were as gray as the skies above the barren trees. Always, the winter, in her memories. "No," said Feyre.

"I see. So, you have now described for us your duties. You are High Lady, and in that capacity, you interact personally with the people of the Night Court, and manage certain tasks – but you are not involved in trade, diplomacy, the military, or international relations. Am I understanding correctly?”

Damn her. This was her goal - to make Feyre so small, and weak, and flushed with shame. "That's not right."

"I am repeating what you have told me. Recall that you swore an oath to speak the truth."

"I haven't lied, but you -"

High Lady of the Desk. She'd made that joke to Rhysand, privately, in their own bedroom, and yet, Eunomia had somehow aired it out in front of everyone. She'd minimized it. There was no High Lady in Prythian, until her. No females who ruled as equals with their mates, until her. And yet, Eunomia made it so insignificant.

I don't think I could handle it... if they called me High Lady.

She felt each pair of eyes, watching her, as if they could see what was under her skin. As if they could see what was in the mirror, lurking just beyond her subconsciousness. Her true self, which only Rhysand really knew, which she had done so much to conquer. To accept.

When she didn't answer, Eunomia replied, "That's fine. We can move on. Perhaps you may clarify some other things for me."

She went back to her table and drew up one of her files.

"As you know, I have spent a considerable amount of time speaking to witnesses and constructing a timeline of the relevant events. I am going to read for you the timeline that I have constructed. Please stop me at any point if I have something incorrect. To my understanding: the curse upon this land was broken in midsummer. Six months passed, and you began planning your wedding to Lord Tamlin –” Here, Eunomia pointed to where he was seated in the gallery, “– and presumably, began to assume the duties of the Lady of Spring. However, your wedding was interrupted due to a bargain that was struck between you and Lord Rhysand –”

Here, again, she pointed, and Feyre seized the opportunity to look at him again. Her beautiful, perfect mate. She ached for his voice in her head, his dark power flooding through her, soothing her as it always, always had. His sparkling eyes were full of emotion, and Feyre heard the echoes of him, telling her to be strong. Be strong. Be brave.

She could do it, if he was here. This was only another obstacle that they would overcome, as she and Rhysand had always overcome everything - together.

I love you, Feyre thought. She let it shine out of her. I love you more than life itself. More than anything. She knew that it would reach him, even though her thoughts were shielded from his.

Eunomia was still speaking. “You spent intermittent periods in the Night Court, as a result of this bargain. However, in the winter of that year, there came a point when Lord Rhysand did not return you after the expected week was past. Two months later, you returned to Spring, after the bargain was severed by King Conand the Second of Hybern. Is this timeline correct, to your estimation?”

Feyre lifted her chin. Nothing would break her. Not even this. "That's correct, yes."

"Very well. At what point, then, did you become High Lady of Night?"

The silence in the courtroom was utterly complete. Feyre felt her hard-won confidence teeter, standing on the ledge of that old insecurity. Two months - but Velaris was home. The Night Court, her family. They were hard months, to be sure, and all the work that had come after - no. No, she couldn't take this away, too. She couldn't reduce the love that Feyre's family shared. She had spent so long trying to forget those dark times, and yet -

"My lady," Eunomia prompted. "Do you need me to repeat the question?"

"It was just before I was taken back to Spring.” Not returned. Feyre wouldn’t give her that, wouldn’t pretend that she’d gone back willingly. “We went before the priestess – Rhysand and I, after I found out that he was my mate.”

"Were there any witnesses, apart from the priestess?"

Feyre felt a chill run down her spine. "We have a certificate. It's notarized properly."

For a horrifying moment, Feyre waited for Eunomia to say, "But how could you possibly know that, since you are illiterate?"

But Eunomia merely replied, "Yes, I have a copy in my records. I am asking if there were witnesses."

"It was a private ceremony," said Feyre, and by the fucking gods, there was no way to sound confident now. Not when she saw so clearly the path that this was treading down. "We intended - later - to invite our family."

"So, there were no witnesses at your marriage and mating ceremony."

Feyre closed her eyes. "No. There were no witnesses."

"And when you ascended your throne, did Lord Rhysand give you any official responsibilities?"

"No. I wasn't made High Lady for any official agenda. I was made High Lady because we love each other, and because we are partners."

Eunomia simply nodded, not reacting to her words. “So, you were made High Lady in a secret ceremony, with no witnesses, and you were then returned to Spring with no official responsibilities.”

"I just told you it wasn't secret. With Hybern on our doorstep, attacking us, kidnapping my sisters -"

"But it was a secret," said Eunomia, pinning Feyre in place with her sharp voice. "You had no witnesses, and didn’t tell anyone. In fact, no one outside of the Night Court knew that you had become High Lady until after you had left the Spring Court a second time, after months had passed. You were not debuted formally before the High Council until well after the invasion of Prythian had begun.”

There it was - the crux of the argument. Feyre bit her tongue, and said nothing, so Eunomia moved on.

"In your current capacity as High Lady, you do not directly or individually handle any matter relating to foreign relations, trade, military, or inter-court diplomacy. Yet you immediately returned to Spring upon your ascension as High Lady of Night. Can you explain to me why that is?”

"It wasn't immediate - it was because of Tamlin. Because of what he did with Hybern -"

"Forgive me, but I'm not sure what you're trying to say. Are you suggesting that you became High Lady before your mating ceremony, because of Lord Tamlin's involvement with Hybern?"

“No.” Feyre felt – heavy. Stupid. Stupid, stupid ignorant human. Unworthy. Unimportant. "I became High Lady because I love my mate."

"Then, why did you return to Spring?"

She was utterly ruthless, immovable. Worse than Nesta. Conspiracy, sabotage, and insurrection. Justice and revenge. Feyre stared in amazement at the Keeper, who merely folded her hands behind her back to wait for her response.

"I didn't do anything wrong," said Feyre. "When I was taken back to Spring, I did what was necessary."

"Necessary."

"Yes."

"Define necessary," said Eunomia.

Feyre repeated, "I didn't do anything wrong."

"I am not asking if you think you did wrong. I am asking you to define what actions you took in Spring that you deemed necessary. What was your goal?"

Tamlin's eyes - so watchful, even from beneath his golden mask - were on her now. Feyre felt them most of all. His eyes had always been on her. Watching, but not seeing. Not until it was too late. Him, and now Eunomia - this was all their fault.

"He had made some sort of truce with Hybern," said Feyre, deciding that she wouldn't even spare him a glance of contempt. "I assumed that he cared more for his people than he did - that they would be safe."

"This does not answer my question. What, exactly, was your goal when you returned to the Spring Court, despite having been mated, married, and ascended upon the throne of the Night Court? What, exactly, did you deem it ‘necessary’ to do while you were there?”

Thrice-damned she-devil, Feyre thought, barely leashing her fury. Eunomia was going to force her to say it out loud, as if it wasn't in her precious timeline of "relevant events." As if they didn't know what the justice of Night looked like.

“I tried to tell – Tamlin,” said Feyre, stumbling somewhat over his name. She’d rarely spoken it aloud since the end of the war. “I tried to tell him that I wasn’t going back to the Spring Court, but he didn’t listen. He never listens. So, I had to return – so that he wouldn’t hurt me, or my family.”

"Did you tell him that you had become the High Lady of Night?"

"No." Of course not.

Eunomia, for some reason, didn't push her on this. "What was Lord Tamlin's reaction, when you returned to the Spring Court?"

He'd held her. Feyre remembered how devastated she'd been, to be away from her new mate. She recalled how much she'd wanted to rip Tamlin's arms from his body, to break the hands that were touching her, since they didn't belong to Rhysand. She also remembered that there had been tears in his eyes. Tamlin had always been a surprisingly emotional creature. He had only ever wanted to keep her safe, regardless of how it made her feel.

"He was relieved, I think," said Feyre. "He seemed to think he was rescuing me." Then, remembering herself, she added dismissively, "I wouldn't know for sure. You'd need to ask him."

"Rescuing you? From what?"

"From my family. My mate."

"But you didn't tell him that you had been mated to Lord Rhysand. You told no one that you were High Lady of Night."

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

Feyre stared at her. Tamlin had been cursed to hold a heart of stone, but this? This was another degree. "I wouldn't expect you to understand that kind of situation."

“Then please, my lady, enlighten me,” said Eunomia, “as to why you would formally join another Court, in its second-highest position of power, and fail to disclose that information to your former fiancé, after he believed – as you say – that he was rescuing you from your own Court. You have to understand that this strains credulity. And furthermore, you still haven’t answered my original question. What actions were necessary, after you returned to the Spring Court?”

The audacity of her. The sheer arrogance.

"I did nothing wrong."

Eunomia sighed. "I request the court's permission to treat the witness as uncooperative."

The spells lining the edge of the room flared slightly, and Feyre felt as the magic crept into her throat, twisted around her vocal chords and pull. She gasped.

"My apologies, High Lady," said Eunomia, without so much as an ounce of sincerity, "I realize this may seem harsh, but I must say that you are being extremely vague in your responses. Please, speak as clearly as possible, and provide relevant details to the court going forward. Otherwise, I dare say that we might be here all day."

Feyre had never hated anyone more than she hated Eunomia, in this moment.

The command from the Keeper of Laws and Scales was absolute. Feyre could not, dared not refuse anymore. The binding spell – the Authority of Truth – was strong, and there was no ability that she possessed that allowed her to bypass this. Even Helion’s sharp magic, latent within her, yielded before Truth. Feyre felt the memories rise to her mind, unbidden. Her secret, innermost thoughts, her feelings, her dreams and her fears –

"I needed to punish them," said Feyre. "For what they did to me."

"Who is they? What happened?"

"I was drowning."

"In a lake? Please, my lady -"

“No,” Feyre snapped. “I was suffering – after what happened Under the Mountain – and no one in that entire damned Court lifted so much as a finger to help me. Tamlin was making it worse, smothering me, lashing out with his magic – and even when I’d escaped, he couldn’t let me be happy. So when he came to drag me back, I decided to show everyone the kind of monster that he really is. I showed them all his true self.”

Eunomia paused, just a moment. She regarded Feyre, but was as inscrutable as ever. Then, she said, "So, you felt that the Spring Court had become inhospitable to you. You left for the Night Court, became High Lady – and did not tell anyone that you had formally renounced your ties to Spring, or to Lord Tamlin. Then, you returned to Spring, to punish them – all the while failing to disclose your true intent. Am I understanding you correctly, my lady?”

Saying it like that was - wrong. Wrong, somehow. Feyre bit her cheek, trying to resist.

"I was only -"

"It is a yes or no question, my lady. I will remind you again that you swore an oath."

The Authority of Truth was squeezing her throat. Feyre choked out, "Yes."

When the pressure was relieved, Feyre coughed, and added, "But – it was to protect Velaris. They couldn’t know about Velaris, not back then. I wanted everyone to be safe but our people –”

Eunomia waved her hand dismissively, and turned to face the assembled gallery.

"The court appreciates and thanks you for your testimony today. This concludes my presentation of the evidence on charges of conspiracy - "

"It wasn't my fault!"

She rose to her feet, the shout in her voice causing Eunomia to turn right on her heels.

“My lady, I will not ask you again. You will show respect to this court and these proceedings, or I shall treat you as hostile. Please, sit down.”

"You don't get to do this." Feyre's voice was breathy to her own ears. Her blood pounded. "You don't get to rewrite the narrative of what happened."

"My lady -"

"You have no idea. No idea what it was like for me - and you don't get to brush my suffering aside because it's convenient for your political agenda -"

"Political agenda?"

For the first time, Eunomia's face revealed a flicker of emotion.

And it was rage.

Pure, incandescent rage, a mirror to Feyre's own. So, there was a heart, after all, somewhere in Eunomia's chest. But she couldn’t be satisfied that she’d gotten a reaction out of the Keeper of Laws and Scales. Not when Eunomia marched back to her banister, reached into one of her many files, and drew up a set of papers.

"My lady, do you have any idea how many children died during Hybern's invasion of the Spring Court?"

Feyre grimaced. Not my fault. Justice. "No."

“Six hundred and thirty-seven,” said Eunomia. “The Spring Court’s records are better intact than most, due to their circumstances during the reign of the so-called High Queen. However, many of their villages were completely flattened, reduced to ashes, and their records along with them. So, given the fluctuating nature of refugee populations, and the expected gap in recordings – we shall say that six hundred and thirty-seven children of Spring died during the invasion of Hybern, that we know of. I suspect that the true count is much, much higher."

Block it out. Forget. Remember - it was not her fault. Feyre closed her eyes.

“So, earlier, you said that you assumed – rather than directly ascertaining – that Hybern had made some deal with Lord Tamlin, wherein the rights and dignities of the Spring Court’s people would be respected even if he lost his authority,” said Eunomia. “You assumed that an invading army would spare the females, elderly, and the children, is that correct?”

No. Not like that. Feyre didn't want to think of it. Didn't want to believe.

"I made an error in judgement. I didn't consider whether we'd need the Spring Court's armies - to fight Hybern, later."

"Just the armies," said Eunomia, dryly.

There was damnation in her tone. I am a murderer. From the moment she'd become fae, there had been blood on her hands. From the moment she'd entered Prythian, in fact. But the Spring Court - no, it was different. It wasn't like Velaris. It wasn't her home, even when Feyre lived there. It was Tamlin. Tamlin was Spring, and he was the Court. He was the one that she'd braved the Mountain for, the one she'd cared about. He was the one she'd wanted to destroy.

So, she hadn't thought about the Spring Court at all.

"Do you have anything else that you would like to add to the record, or shall I conclude the proceedings now?"

When Feyre did not answer her - there was nothing that she could say, to that, anyway - Eunomia approached the bench and handed her the sheets of papers. Feyre was too stunned to do anything except take them, with numb fingers, and regard the list. Names, ages, places of birth and residence. It was a thick packet.

"Since you were unawares before," said Eunomia. "Here. You may wish to inform yourself of the facts before you return to this court."

And with that last condemnation, Eunomia once again faced the gallery.

"My lady, you may step down from the bench. The court thanks you for your time and testimony today. This concludes the presentation of evidence in regards to charges of conspiracy against the Spring Court. We are now adjourned for today."

The spells flared one last time, and the bell chimed. The magic dimmed and receded like a tide, and Feyre felt the threads of her own magic resurface.

Darkness flooded her - sweet night. Darling.

Silently, she reached across the bridge for her mate. Feyre exhaled shakily, relieved when she found him. He filled her head with warmth, with stars, with love. She had survived, though she felt now that she may have been skinned alive.

Rhys, tell me everything is going to be okay.

For the space of one heartbeat - two - three - four - she received no answer.

Rhys?

At last, Feyre looked up.

She saw Eunomia carefully folding her papers, and tucking them under her arm before she bustled out of the doors. She saw the Courts of Summer, Autumn, and Winter rising to depart. She saw Thesan lean over to engage Helion in conversation - and at his side, Daphne, looking satisfied.

Footsteps approached - her Court. Her family. Feyre smiled, relieved for just a second - until she saw the looks on their faces.

Rhysand surged forward, extending a hand to help her down from the bench. Feyre squeezed his cold fingers, and did not let go as she stood, and stretched. He quickly seized the packet from her hands, and handed it to Azriel, who tucked it away just as quickly, out of sight. Cassian was looking pale, but extended his wings just so, as if to block them all from sight of the others. Elain was wringing her hands, half-turned away to where Eunomia was already disappearing out of the court's main entrance.

Worst of all was Amren.

"What were you thinking, girl?" she asked, low with disappointed. "What happened?"

"Not now, Amren."

Rhysand's voice was harsh, his face tight as he drew Feyre against him, to his side, rubbing her arm.

"What is it?" she asked, looking around at them. "I thought -"

"Not now," Rhysand repeated, gentler, but he still did not look at her. "We need to rethink our strategy. Mor -"

"I'll go," Azriel said.

He half-glanced at Elain, who was not looking at anyone. Her eyes were still on the gallery, eyeing the faeries who were slowest to depart. The Day Court, especially - Feyre realized that she had not seen Lucien all day, had not even looked for him. But Azriel showed now reaction, and turned to stride quickly out of the courtroom.

Rhys, what did I do?

Feyre gazed up to him. Her mate, her great love, the father of her son.

Amren's gaze simmered with unusual contempt, gazing at her High Lord.

"If we coddle her," she said, "then she will never learn."

Rhysand growled, "Not here, Amren."

"No," Feyre said, blood pounding in her ears. "No, Amren - tell me. I need to know."

Rhysand's distress made itself known to her through their bond, feeding Feyre's own - but he said nothing when Amren glared at Feyre and hissed:

"You admitted to the charges. She asked you if you hid your true intent from the Spring Court, on behalf of the Night Court. That is conspiracy. You said 'yes.'"

It wasn't her fault. She'd done nothing wrong. Those dead children, dead faeries - that wasn't her. It was Hybern who had killed them. Tamlin, who had failed them. Feyre had survived everything, and gotten justice for the harm done to her. Justice.

But the spell must have had an aftertaste - because she couldn't admit it. It would be a lie.

Rhys...

It's alright. The dark rumble of his voice still soothed her. We'll figure it out, darling. We'll fix this.

Together.

My fault.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #my fanfic #the dreamers in the daylight #anti feysand #tamlin #my ocs #the spring court #adding uhhhhh #anti feyre #to be safe #anti rhysand #acotar critical

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katastronoot · 7 months

Text

Friday Kiss Tag Game

Tagged by: @hannahcbrown thanks friend!

Tagging: @wispstalk @boethiahspillowbook @friend-of-giants and anyone else who wants to do it. This is so sweet

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

I thought about drawing something but I haven’t written anything for Baurus and Frieda yet. I planned on making it short and sweet but then 1200 words later here I am haha

••••••••

Strength.

She had always needed strength.

The moment she lost her parents and became orphaned on the streets of Anvil, she wished for strength. Pleaded for it. Prayed to the gods—the gods who were but just a whisper in the wind. They never really made their intentions clear. They weren’t listening to her prayers, couldn’t have been.

Because strength.

It never came to her when she needed it most.

Frieda’s gaze focused on the warm amber candle light flickering against the back wall of the washroom. It shifted the drab temple walls to those shades of warmer orangey hues complementing the deep red imperial banners that hung the walls. Her body was finally getting adjusted to the heat of the water that surrounded her, she could feel the stress of her endeavors begin to fade. With an exhale of breath she closed her eyes, trying to imagine that same flame from her candle. It took more self-control than she wanted to push away the visions of fiery hells that she journeyed through in the day prior. It was unavoidable.

Her waking hours were spent in the plane as well as her nights. She dreamt of that place.

Her own place. Her own piece.

Oblivion.

•••

He hadn’t seen her come back to the temple that night.

Martin was spending every waking hour studying the texts. He was on duty and was determined to never leave the emperor's side. He couldn’t let it happen again.

It was Jauffrey that gave him the order to get some rest. He would have denied it and stood guarding the door until his feet ached and he succumbed to over exhaustion. But, Frieda.

Frieda might just be the one reason why he would step away.

And he hadn’t seen her come home.

Most of his brethren, the other blades were retired for the night. It was late. The halls of the temple were quiet, only echoing each solid footstep he took. After hearing word that their hero came in but just a moment ago—soaking wet and hobbling down to the quarters—he took great stride to reach her.

Who knew what kind of torment she went through.

He did not find her sleeping in her cot and the rain pounding on the roof told him that she was not camping under the stars. He knocked on the door to the baths. No answer but a crackle of thunder shuddering from above. However, warmth was peeking through the cracks in the doorframe.

“Frieda.” He called softly but firmly. His eyes took in the sight. A sight that he has seen one too many times.

Her bare form was slumped in the bath. Articles of bloodied armor and underthings scattered the stone floor. The smell of incense and soap invaded his senses. It would have been pleasant if it weren’t for how dark the bath water had turned.

Crimson.

He approached her, chest rising and falling heavy. His skin touched hers and he felt her pulse beating at ease. He took a breath.

“Frieda, wake up.” He nudged her shoulder before taking a seat on the floor, an arm resting on the tub. Her eyes were rolling side to side behind her lids. Spasms and jolted movements struck through her joints as hushed whimpers escaped plush lips. She must have been having another one of those dreams. Those nightmares.

His gaze examined her body—riddled with cuts and purple marks. The dips and curves in her beautiful form were beginning to flatten. When was the last time she had a proper meal?

He cursed at her state.

For one so experienced in the art of restoration, she never conserved enough energy to heal herself.

•••

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of a voice.

Baurus.

Frieda took a deep breath calming the race of her beating heart. She didn't startle so easily back then. She was so much more composed. But, sending her soul into the madness of oblivion every day does provoke change.

Her eyes met his dark brown. Soft.

“How long was I out?” The hoarseness in her voice made her grimace.

“Not sure. I noticed you did not come in and as soon as I could I went looking for you… Frieda. Look at you.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at the mother-hen tone to his voice. He was just that. Always so caring and kind.

“I am still breathing, aren’t I? My limbs are all in place. I seem quite alright.”

He looked down upon her. His build still held above her even at the angle. She took notice of the furrow in his dark brow, its creases painted with concern. Someone with such duty should not worry about one such as her.

“Baurus, truly—“ her vision tore away from his to the sight of her pale skin against the tinged water. More and more marks. More that would become scars serving as constant reminders of her place in this war. Constant storytellers painted along her flesh. A wrenching sensation washed through her stomach.

“—I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten?”

She shrugged, “I had a meal this morning.”

He let out a sigh, “Would you like me to bring you something?” His voice was quiet. She looked up into his eyes—not wanting his warmth to leave her.

“Please, stay.” Her tone cracked as she placed her palm against his skin.

“I’m not ready to be alone again.”

His body shifted closer. She could feel the heat from his skin against hers that had begun to chill from the cold bath water.

“How is Martin?” She asked with intent to distract herself from her state.

Baurus shook his head, “He has been working hard. I don’t think I even saw him blink his eyes today. He’s pushing himself to the point—“ his voice took a pause and he exhaled. “You need to rest. Both of you. Just take a moment for yourself and breathe. Please. I am tired of seeing you suffer.”

“We both have a duty…I can’t rest. You know this.”

He felt her hand grip his wrist. As he looked down into her eyes he was able to see through the darkness that pooled beneath her eyelids. Her beautiful heterochromatic eyes that glimmered in blues and greens. He saw her beauty through her misery.

What he would give to take it away from her.

“You are strong, Frieda. You will fight this battle and remain successful as you are every day. In years to come we will look back on this as just a small feat in our lives full of many.”

Her fingertips brushed along his arm, pulling him in closer towards her. All of her attention pooled to the words that he spoke.

“I am here for you. I always will be. For you, for Martin. I am here and I do not intend on going anywhere.”

His voice grew softer, “you are not alone anymore.”

She smiled through the wetness that formed against her eyes. With a gentle tug on the linen of his tunic, he yelped as she nearly pulled him into the cool water with her.

The delicate skin of his lips met hers in an embrace. It was not forceful. Not lustful—but tender and comforting. They both needed this. A release of emotion in an act of intimacy. Being both on duty at the temple never allowed for much opportunity to show their affection.

This kiss was one of many to come, even if she had to wait far in between.

His lips parted hers. Deep brown gazing into two orbs—one of blue and one of green.

She knew at that moment that he was the one thing she never thought she could have.

Her strength.

#tes #my writing #oblivion #fan fic #oc frieda #baurus #hok #tesblr #tag game #oneshot #oblivion fanfiction

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