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#every other founding father gets to grow old EVERY OTHER KING GETS TO GROW OLD
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You have no idea how excited I got when I saw you posted about Aemond Targaryen requests ❤️ can I request a. story with him and reader Where he gets jealous. Like a Lord from a different house keeps trying to get her hand in marriage. Also the reader grew up in castle and has been his best friend since babies.
You Belong To Me || Aemond Targaryen x Reader
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A/N: so I slightly diverted from the request, but the overall premise is pretty much the same :) hope you enjoy
Summary: Aemond and the reader have been best friends since childhood, however Y/N’s desire to find a husband awakens extreme jealousy in the prince, making him realize his feelings for her. But what if it’s too late?
Warnings: Angst, Jealousy, Fluff end
Growing up, Aemond never really had any friends. It made perfect sense to him, he was a prince above all and after years of putting up with his brother’s and nephews’ cruel pranks, he had long ago stopped trusting most people. However lady Y/N was a rare exception, the daughter of a northern lord who had sent her as a lady in waiting to princess Helaena, in hopes of her finding a noble husband, when the day comes.
During those years by the chance of fate Y/N had grown very close to the younger prince. She’d be the first to console him after the numerous times his brother would try to humiliate him and when he lost his eye, Y/N would sneak into his chambers every night to tell him stories until he’d fall asleep, much to the disapproval of her septa. Even Queen Alicent, soon after the incident, grew fond of the northern girl, who was always by Aemond's side. Like any mother would, she found comfort in the thoughts that her beloved son had someone to care for him.
Years had passed, despite the loss of his eye, the younger prince had grown into a dangerous swordsman and Y/N had flowered into a beautiful young maiden, still full of hope and dreams. And though the two couldn't spend as much time together, they still deeply cared for each other.
It was a bright sunny day in King’s Landing and Y/N was accompanying princess Helaena on her daily walk through the lavish gardens. The girls were so caught up in their sweet talks that they almost didn’t notice the two silver haired princes approaching them.
“Ah there you are, dear sister. Excited for the upcoming feast in honor of your wedding with Aegon, I assume” Aemond smirked at Helaena, making his brother scoff at the reminder.
“Gods, the wedding” Y/N beamed “I wonder when will my turn come, what if I meet someone at the feast”
Suddenly Aemond’s whole demeanor dropped, those words struck him like an arrow. Of course like any young lady, Y/N would dream of meeting her future husband, he knew that day would eventually come, but for so many years he had subconsciously chosen to ignore these thoughts.
It was the day of Helaena and Aegon’s wedding. Earlier that day, Y/N had helped the princess ready herself. While she was gently placing the ornate garments on Helaena frame, Y/N couldn’t help but let her imagination wander to the day of her own wedding. Ever since a child, she had dreamed of that moment, but as the years went by, her hopes of it coming to fruition were slowly fading away. Not long ago she had come of age and yet not a single marriage proposal or even an attempt at courting had come upon her. Aemond was like her shadow, the only man she had spoken to and his presence seemed to prove effective in scaring any possible suitors away.
This night, however, Y/N was determined to find herself a betrothed, she had to, or her impatient father would soon marry her off to some old cruel northern lord in hopes for an alliance. She carefully picked up the dress Queen Alicent had sent her, it was a deep emerald green color with delicate gold embroidery across the bodice. Y/N smiled to herself, having grown up without her mother, made her really grateful for having Alicent by her side.
The royal wedding was a grandiose affair, tables lavishly decorated with exotic flowers and the finest gold cutlery. Nobles from the far east and highborns from all across the seven kingdoms had come to pay their respects. It was clear that the queen wanted this event to be remembered.
Y/N sat in awe of the scenery before her, indulging in the stories of the foreign ladies sitting beside her, that’s when she noticed Aemond, standing by one of the decorated pillars and she could swear he was stealing glances at her. Oh how she wanted to go and talk with him, her closest friend, but Y/N knew that if she did, all her chances of finally finding a suitor would be damned.
“Care for a dance, my lady” Y/N was suddenly shaken from her thoughts. A man with golden curls and piercing green eyes was extending his hand to her. ‘A Lannister, perhaps’ she thought to herself. The maiden happily accepted his offer, it looked like luck was at last upon her.
She spent the whole night dancing and talking to the Lannister lord, she quite enjoyed his company, though she had to admit none of it could compare to the company of her prince. What she didn’t know, however, was that throughout her whole time with the lord, Aemond was staring daggers at them. The one eyed prince couldn’t explain it, but a burning rage was building up inside him. The sight of another man touching Y/N, his Y/N was so antagonizing, he hadn’t noticed how strongly he was gripping the handle of his sword, oh how he wanted to slice it through the golden bastard. He was trying to keep his composure, but once he saw the couple heading outside to the gardens, he could no longer contain himself, he got up and followed them, anger mixed with jealousy clouding his vision.
The night sky was clear, thousands of stars glistening like diamonds. Y/N was beaming, walking by the lion, smiling and talking about her dreams of the future. This fairytale moment, however, was shortly cut by no other than the dragon prince himself, her Aemond.
“Y/N, come, let’s go” he scowled, looking her directly in the eyes. But before the puzzled girl was able to respond, the Lannister man stepped forward “And why should she listen to you? As far as I’ve heard, she’s not your betrothed, she does not belong to you” he laughed.
These words awoke a whole new level of rage in the young prince, furious, he took out his sword and pointed it at the man’s chest, making Y/N let out a frightened squeal “Aemond, don’t” she pleaded.
“You know who I am, don’t you, you pest” the prince hissed at the lion, without putting down his weapon. “Dare you say another word, none of your Lannister gold will be able to save your life from my dragon” this threat undoubtedly scared the man as he turned around and headed back to the feast, without a word.
“Why? Why did you do this” Y/N whispered on the verge of tears. “I thought you were my friend, I thought you wanted me to be happy”
“Come, let’s go inside” Aemond sighed, taking her hand in his.
“NO” the girl protested “All these years I’ve been by your side, I’ve done everything for you to be happy and this is what you do to me? All I wanted was just to be happy!”
“He doesn't deserve you, he is NOT the one for you” the prince snapped.
“Oh, and who is then? Some old ugly lord, that my father is going to marry me off to and-” her words were suddenly cut off by a soft pair of lips on top of hers. Y/N was caught completely off guard, memories of their childhood flooding back, but it didn’t take her long to return the kiss, instantly clasping her hands around his neck. That kiss was full of longing, it was a release for all these feelings they’ve had developed for each other throughout the many years. It now all made perfect sense to Y/N, all these years she had spent imagining her future spouse, too scared to think of the one she truly desired, her dragon, her Aemond.
Once out of breath, they pulled away, resting their foreheads together.
“Me, you belong to me” Aemond whispered, gently caressing her cheek.
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fortheloveofwonderland · 10 months
Text
My Reply | S.R
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This one was a request from the lovely @reidsaurora-replies for my milestone celebration which got wildly out of hand. I think I damn near used every lyric of the song in this one. Also, Maeve does not exist in this universe. I felt like his phone calls with her were too similar to the letters with reader and not needed
Summary - Spencer writes his deepest tragedies down on paper for his pen pal. After ten years of exchanging letters and some divine intervention from JJ, the two of you finally come face to face.
CW - this one covers most of Spencer’s canon storylines including Tobis Hankel and his drug addiction, his moms illness, his fathers abandonment, getting shot in the knee, his headaches, Emily’s “death”, prison arc, Mr Scratch and Emily’s kidnapping, angst, interfering friends, lots of literary quotes.
WC - 6.3k
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Making friends was always something Spencer Reid had been inherently bad at. He was always too young or too smart which always seemed to put people off of forming friendships with him. 
When he joined the BAU, his team called themselves his friends. But Spencer knew if he’d met any of them outside of work he would have nothing in common with them. 
They were simply friends by proximity, which admittedly was better than having no friends at all. But he couldn’t talk to them about everything, afraid to scare them away with talk of his mothers illness or his fathers abandonment. 
And sometimes he just needed to talk to someone. 
It was Garcia’s idea that he sign up for a pen pal. When she found out about his mom during the course of the fisher king case, he’d confessed that he didn’t feel comfortable talking to the team about such things. 
At first she’d actually suggested talking to someone online, she had many online friends who she talked to in various chat rooms. But after almost an hour of trying to explain that to the technophobe doctor and getting little more than a deep frown in response, she changed tact. 
A pen pal appealed to Spencer greatly. He already wrote daily letters to his mom and found it somewhat cathartic, getting his thoughts down on the page, but he never bothered her with the darker stuff. 
The idea of a faceless person he’d never meet reading his deepest, darkest thoughts was actually intriguing to him. And so with the help of Penelope he found himself a pen pal. 
In his first letter he’d just introduced the basics, his name and age, what he did for a living and that he lived in DC. 
He went on to explain how hard he found it to make friends and the difficulties of talking to his already established friends about the darker parts of his life. He ended the letter with a quote from To Kill a Mockingbird.
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” - Harper Lee.
He received a reply little over a week later. 
Your name was Y/N and you were twenty two, three years younger than him and a grad student at Columbia University. You told him you would be happy to read whatever he sent you, that you were more than willing for him to write to you about the things he didn’t tell his friends. 
You signed off with a quote of your own quote from the book Infinite Jest.
“You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realise how seldom they do.” - David Foster Wallace. 
And so he did just as you said and he wrote another letter. 
His second letter to you was five pages long. He went into great detail about his mothers illness, how he’d been left to deal with it alone at ten years old. He wrote about how he’d made the decision at eighteen years old to have her committed to a sanitarium. 
He told you about growing up as a child prodigy in Las Vegas and how hard that was. You were the first person he ever told about Alexa Lisbon and being tied naked to a flagpole. 
He spoke about the events surrounding Elle leaving the team and how it didn’t feel complete without her. 
He ended the letter by apologising profusely that he’d wasted your time with his long winded rambles and said he hoped to hear from you soon and scrawled a quote from The Great Gatsby.
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald.
He said he would understand if you didn’t reply. But you did. 
The letter took two weeks to arrive and you explained that it was because you wanted to really process his words and give each and every one of them the time they deserved. He read the last few lines of your letter over and over again in a loop even though they were etched into his memory after only one glance.
I wish there was something I could say, to erase each and every page you've been through,
even though it's not my place to save you. 
“When I get lonely these days, I think: so be lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” - Elizabeth Gilbert - Eat, Pray, Love. 
He wasn’t familiar with the book and so he’d gone out and brought it and read it cover to cover within an hour. 
Reading your letter made Spencer feel understood for the first time in his young life. You didn’t pass judgement on him. Spencer found that between the pages of your letters he found a kindred spirit. 
The letters continued back and forth for several months until one day you didn’t receive a reply. His last letter had been penned to you on route to a case in Atlanta, which you’d responded to the day you received it. But there was radio silence from Spencer. 
You shouldn’t have been as worried as you were, but you couldn’t help yourself. His letters had become such a huge part of your world, often rereading them hundreds of times just to make sure you didn’t miss any little nuance on the page. 
His handwriting was ingrained within you, his scrawly, sometimes barely legible penmanship danced behind your eyelids every time you closed your eyes. His letters had rapidly become the best part of any day. And for over a year you didn’t receive a reply. 
After a while you’d stopped holding out hope every time you collected your mail. Eventually you gave up ever expecting to hear from him again. Maybe he didn’t need you anymore. Perhaps he’d made a real life friend, maybe even a girlfriend and you’d been rendered ineffective. 
But then little over a year after you sent your last letter, you found an envelope in your mail slot with the familiar handwriting you adored so much and the DC postmark. 
Y/N,
I don’t really have any excuses, all I can say is I’m sorry. I have written you fifty three letters over the course of the last year but never mailed a single one. They are piled up on my desk, addressed and even stamped, but I couldn’t bring myself to mail them. 
I’ve been struggling, I can’t lie to you. I can’t even lie to you through a letter and tell you I’ve been fine because I haven’t. I think you would see through my prose, know that I wasn’t being truthful. And you’ve never given me a reason to be anything but honest with you.
The case in Atlanta was one of the hardest I’ve ever worked. I’m not going to beat around the bush, I’m just going to tell what happened and hopefully this letter will end up with you and not in the pile on my desk. 
I was kidnapped by the man we were hunting down. I spent two days tied to a chair being beaten within an inch of my life but a man with multiple personalities. In fact, that’s not strictly true. I wasn’t beaten within an inch of my life; one of the personas killed me. 
I’m not entirely sure how long I was technically dead before he revived me but obviously not long enough to cause permanent neurological damage. Irreversible brain damage occurs after four minutes without oxygen so it stands to reason it was less than four minutes. 
But during that time, my life flashed before my eyes, including every single word of every single one of your letters. 
One of the alter’s drugged me in his own way of trying to save me. Drugging me was supposed to help with the pain, both mental and physical. I fought it at first, desperate for him not to stick that needle in my vein. But after that first hit, I stopped resisting. 
I think you can probably already see where this is going. You’re incredibly smart and you seem to know me so well. After I shot Tobias Hankel dead I took three vials of dilaudid from his corpse. 
I should have prefaced this by saying I am now ten months sober, and offered up the good news first. But there were several months that I continued using the drug in secret, hoping it would aid in erasing the memories of it all. 
It took a case in New Orleans in which I met up with an old friend Ethan and ended up almost destroying my career for me to decide to get sober. I’ve had a lot of difficulties in my life, as you know, but getting clean is the hardest thing I have ever done. 
And now for the first time in months I’m craving again. Maybe that’s why I’m writing to you, determined to send this letter this time. I need to know that everything is going to be ok and you are the only one that I will believe it from. 
My team tries. Now it's all out in the open, they try to help. But you don’t even need to try. Your help is so effortless, so easy and I’m in real need of that right now. 
His letter went on in this vein for another six pages. He also included several pages of handwritten poetry which he had copied out of a book to send you. With each word you consumed you felt your heart breaking for him a piece at a time. 
And he signed off with a surprising choice of quote from The Lorax.
“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” - Dr Seuss. 
You spent the next month or so trying to cultivate the perfect reply, but for the first time in your life, words failed you. 
It was three days after Spencer received his one year sober chip that your letter arrived. 
I got your letter and the poetry you sent me, postmarked in December of last year. I really hope you’re doing better, all your friends close by your side, one step closer to recovery.
I hope by the time you receive this you are close to one year sober, but if you didn’t make it you need to know that’s ok too. Life is full of ups and downs Spencer. If you didn’t make it this time you will the next time. Or the one after that. 
If you relapsed I need you to not beat yourself up over it. You will be ok, Spencer Reid, for that I am certain. 
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” Maya Angelou - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. 
***
When he got shot in the knee, he wrote to you from the hospital. He told you how hard it was for him to turn down pain medication when he was in so much agony. But he was over two years sober now and he wouldn’t do anything to risk a relapse. 
Your reply spoke of how proud of him you were and how you knew it couldn’t have been easy for him but you hoped the fact you were proud went some way to aid him. 
He told you it meant more to him than you would ever know. 
Then he started having headaches and the letters became sporadic. When he did write he told you how painful it was for him to try to focus on the words in front of him. 
I’ve seen so many doctors and no one can tell me what’s wrong with me. It’s like they think I’m making it up, like this pain isn’t real. 
On my good days it’s a dull throb but on the bad days it’s nearly paralysing. I’m so scared that this is a precursor for schizophrenia. I'm still young enough for my first break, and it is a genetic illness. 
I love my mom but I can’t turn out like her, Y/N, I just can’t. I'm so, so scared. 
But your letters are the greatest comfort to me. I don’t think there are words to describe how much they mean - I will try to surmise it with a quote from Charlotte's Web -
"'Why did you do all this for me?' he asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.'" - E.B White.
You could feel his fear through the pages. His handwriting was somehow even harder to read than usual and sentences often tapered off with no ending. There were whole passages scribbled out so violently his pen had ripped the paper in places. There were crude drawings of brains and dark rain clouds in the margins. 
Spencer, 
I am so sorry you are going through this and that no one can give you the answers you seek. But this isn’t the end for you, even if it is schizophrenia, you can still live a full and normal life. 
If you'll just hold on for one more second, if you just hold on to what you have, you will wake up tomorrow. Behind every rain cloud lies the sun. As Victor Hugo said in Les Miserables -
“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.” 
In his next few letters he seemed to be getting better, his headaches slowly dissipating until they only hassled him every once in a while. Things seemed to be looking up for him. 
But then one of his best friends died. 
His detailed letter told you all about Ian Doyle and Emily’s history with him and went on to conclude how she died on the operating table. 
I’ve been through a lot of trauma in my life, lost a lot of people close to me but never like this. I’ve never had to bury someone I love and honestly I don’t know how to move past this. 
My initial reaction has been dilaudid. It's the only thing I can think of to take the pain away. 
Tell me not to do it, Y/N, please. Please tell me that this grief will get better and that using drugs again is not the answer. Please help me stay clean. 
"When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time — the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers.” John Irving - A Prayer for Owen Meany
It took you longer than it should have done to formulate a reply. You felt pressured, like his sobriety hung in your hands. You hated that his friend had died but you didn’t think it was fair of him to put this on you. And you told him such.
Spencer,
I am sorry to hear about Emily, I know how close the two of you were. I’m no expert on grief, I can’t tell you how to deal with this.
You know full well that using dilaudid again is a bad idea, you really don’t need me to tell you that. Honestly, I’m a little frustrated at you for putting this on my shoulders. 
I am always here to help Spencer, in any way I can but sometimes I think you expect too much from me. We’ve been trading letters back and forth for the better part of five years and I don’t think you’ve ever really asked me about myself aside from those first initial letters.
And it’s fine, you needed this friendship more than I did. But over time this has started to feel so one sided and I don’t always look forward to your letters as much as I once did. 
I realise this is not the best time for me to be saying these things but I can’t hold back any longer. I’m glad I can be someone you can turn to but I have my own life, my own issues and I have no one to talk to about them. 
You put too much pressure on me Spencer and it’s a lot to take. I’ve tried to help shoulder your misery all these years but it’s starting to bring me down. All I can say is you need to wake up, you've gotta believe; you can't give up. Time keeps going on without us, long after we're dead and gone.
And you finished it with a simple quote from After You by Jojo Moyes.
“No journey out of grief was straightforward. There would be good days and bad days.” 
It was no surprise to you that you didn’t receive a reply. 
***
Y/N,
It’s been two years and I’m sorry for that. Two years, one month and eleven days. The truth is your last letter was hard for me to read as you can probably understand. 
The hardest part of reading it was the fact that I knew you were right. I’ve been selfish all these years. I’ve treated you like a sounding board for my problems and never once asked how you were. 
It's taken me time to write this because I wanted to get to a better place before I responded. I was angry at first, I felt like I was being abandoned again and my anger would not have been conducive. 
Then I was hurt, hurt that the one person I thought would always be there for me had turned their back on me. I displaced my grief over Emily’s death onto you and anything I would have written in that time would have only been the rage fuelled epitaph of a grieving man. 
And then once I dealt with those emotions, life simply got away from me. Emily was alive and well, her death was faked to get Doyle off of her back. Again I was angry about being lied to by my friends but eventually I was just happy she was alive. 
Then I turned thirty and had a crisis of faith I suppose. I guess with my intellect I always assumed I would be doing something more with my life and turning thirty kind of threw me through a loop. 
We had some changes to the team, new agents coming and going. All in all things have been somewhat hectic. 
But that’s not why I’m writing. 
I am writing because I really do want to know everything about you. I want you to be able to open up to me the way I always have to you. I want to be your shoulder, your repreve. I really hope I haven’t completely blown our friendship and I hope to be the kind of person who you can talk to. 
These arms remain stretched out to you and maybe someday you'll accept them. Maybe it's too late to save a young girl's heart that's long stopped beating. But I hope that it isn’t. 
“You have been in every way all that anyone could be…if anybody could have saved me it would have been you.” Jennifer Niven - All the Bright Places. 
You wanted to tell him it was too little too late, that after two years of silence you weren’t interested anymore. 
You wanted to simply not reply, ignore him entirely like he’d done to you. 
But you couldn’t. And so you replied. 
It was your longest letter to date, depicting in great detail how he’d made you feel over the years and all the hardships you’d faced without having someone to vent to. 
But getting to write it all down had been purifying, and by the time you were finished you weren’t mad anymore. 
I am willing to give this another shot, but things have to be different. If we’re to continue this friendship then it has to be a two way street. 
But I can’t pretend that I haven’t missed your letters because I have. I see pieces of you between the words, parts of yourself I’m not sure you realise you leave on the page. 
I’ve painted a picture of you in my mind's eye and even after two years with no letters, I’ve carried that picture with me wherever I go. 
I feel like I somehow know you better than I know myself and I hope going forward you can start to know me the same way. Charlotte Bronte once said -
“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.” - Jane Eyre. 
***
Spencer didn’t know how it happened, he only knew that it had happened. Over the course of all the years writing to you it was almost a surprise it hadn’t happened sooner. Or maybe it had and he just didn’t realise until now. 
Spencer Reid had fallen in love with the woman who wrote her prose to him. 
It had been ten years of letters, every single one of which he kept in their envelopes in date order in the bottom drawer of his desk at home. 
Those letters were his lifelines on bad days, the one thing that kept him tethered. He didn’t even know what you looked like, even what you sounded like but he loved you. He loved you with every fibre of his being. 
And he couldn’t stop himself from telling you exactly what you meant to him. Even if it inevitably destroyed what the two of you had, he couldn’t stop the words from flying across the page. 
So that’s pretty much everything that’s happened these past few weeks. Mom’s doing ok but obviously it's a huge adjustment for her and I’m not entirely sure how long I can keep her living with me but for now it works.
How did the interview go? I have absolutely no doubts that you blew them all away with your presentation, you’re a hard person not to fall in love with.
Your presence in my life has brightened my every waking minute. You once told me that behind every rain cloud lies the sun; you are the sun behind my clouds. Your letters bring me back to life, your handwriting penned onto my soul. 
Is it foolish of me to be in love with someone I have never laid eyes on? William Makepeace Thackery said in Vanity Fair -
“It is better to have loved wisely, no doubt: but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.” 
I suppose that’s as good of an answer as any. 
***
Five days after he penned his love confession, he was arrested in Mexico. Once all the drugs had left his system, only after he was extradited and arraigned and placed at Milburn was he able to dwell on the fact he never received your reply. 
And being trapped in a cell gave him way too much time to think about that. 
It was possible you had replied, maybe even just to tell him he was crazy to even think he could be in love with someone he had never met. But he was sure you wouldn’t have even bothered to respond, thinking him a lunatic you needed to cut ties with. 
After a month in prison on one of JJ’s visits she brought a letter with her which she had found in his apartment. She recognised the handwriting on the envelope from several she’d seen him reading over the years. 
She wasn’t allowed to give him the letter but she offered to read it to him. At first he’d declined because he had no idea what to expect from your reply but after several long minutes he’d decided to let JJ read it to him. 
Spencer,
I am pleased to hear your mom is doing well but I do think you know that this solution won’t work in the long run. You say you live in a one bedroom apartment? You and I both know that you can’t sustain having your mother live there permanently. But I know you and I know you will figure out what’s best for you both.
The interview was amazing and they offered me the job on the spot. If it wasn’t for all your help with the presentation there is no way I would have gotten it, so thank you so much for that. 
As for the other thing…
For some time now I have been wondering about feelings I didn’t understand. You’ve been such a large part of my life for so long and even though we’ve never met I feel like we have, if that makes sense? I feel like in my heart I know you. My heart knows your heart.
Falling for you was as inevitable as the sun rising each morning. Perhaps it is foolish but I believe Thackeray knew what he was talking about. And I also believe Emily Bronte was talking about me and you when she said, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 
Spencer had interrupted JJ then, when she was smiling from ear to ear as she read your words out loud. 
“That’s enough.” He cut her off, burying his head in his hands.
“Wow, Spence, I had no idea you’d met someone.” 
“I haven’t met anyone. She is simply a woman at the other end of a series of letters.” 
“How long?” JJ placed the pages down in front of her.
Spencer looked up at her, a small blush on his cheeks. He didn't want to be talking about this, least of all on the other side of a plexiglass screen with his other inmates nearby but he responded all the same.
“Ten years.” He shrugged. 
“Ten years?” JJ sounded incredulous. “Ten years of letters and you’ve never met? Why?”
“I, uh, it never really came up.” It wasn’t a lie, you’d never once discussed meeting in all those years. 
“Is it like a distance thing? Does she live far away?” 
“No,” He sighed with a shake of his head. “She’s in New York.” 
“New York!” She huffed. “New York is a five hour train journey, Spence!” 
“Jennifer, now is really not the time for this.” He lowered his voice as JJ’s had garnered eyes in their direction. “There is really no point in discussing this as we have no idea when or even if I’m going to get out of here.” 
“Don’t say that.” She shook her head.
“It’s true.” He shrugged sadly. “I really can’t think about all this right now, ok? Just take the letter back to my apartment and pretend you didn’t see it. Please?” 
If it weren’t for the desperation in his eyes she might have argued it. But she didn’t want to waste what little time she got to spend with Spencer fighting.
“Ok.” She relented with a small roll of her eyes.
“Thank you, JJ.” He offered a tight lipped smile. “How are the boys?” 
JJ filled him in but she wasn’t really focused anymore. In her head, she was already penning a letter of her own…
Y/N,
My name is Jennifer Jareau, JJ, and I work with Spencer at the BAU. I’m not sure if he’s mentioned me to you or not. He hasn’t really told me too much about you if I’m honest. But I have learned that he has strong feelings for you and you for him. I’m wondering if I can make a suggestion…
***
When you received the strange letter from Spencer’s friend JJ in response to yours, you’d been initially extremely confused as to why he was letting his teammates read your secret correspondence. 
But when she’d gone on to tell you that Spencer had been arrested along with all the details surrounding his incarceration and how she’d read your letter to him during their visitation, you started to understand. 
But then a few days later, before you had a chance to reply to her, you received another letter from Spencer with a postmark from Milburn Correctional Facility.
Y/N,
Maybe Thackeray and Bronte were right or maybe they were wrong, I can’t say for sure. What I can say with certainty is that I can’t carry on like this a moment longer.
Something has happened to me, it won’t be hard for you to figure out what as soon as you see the postmark. I am not willing to get into it or explain how I ended up here. But I have no idea how long I am going to be inside and I don’t want the rest of our communication to be sent through a string of guards who will pick apart each tormented sentence. 
I ask you not to write me back. This has to be the end of the road my dear. This letter has to be our last. I don’t know how much longer I will continue to be able to live like this. Each day my hope dies a little more and I’m sure I won’t make it out of here alive. 
I am writing simply to say thank you. Thank you for all your years of listening, for all your patience and kind words and your hopeful prose. In my darkest hours you have shown me the light, dragged me out of the shadows of my own creation. 
I love you for all that you are and all that you have done but even you can’t save me this time. This really might be the end for me and I don’t want you to blame yourself. You are the only reason I made it this far in this treacherous game we call life. 
Take care of yourself, continue to live your absolute best life. And in time I pray that you forget me and are able to love someone far more tangible. 
All that is left to say can be summed up by a quote from The Miniaturist - 
“You are the sunlight through a window, which I stand in, warmed. My darling.” Jessie Burton.
You replied firstly to Spencer, his heartbreaking words more pressing than JJ’s letter. You kept it short and to the point, knowing that various other prison guards would read it before it even made it to his hands. 
I appreciate but can't accept this thank you note that's sealed with your last breath and I won't stand aside and listen to you give up. 
You are stronger than that Spencer Reid and if I know anything about your team from all the years of hearing you speak of them it’s that they are the best at what they do and they will prove your innocence. 
Just remember what Ernest Hemmingway said in A Farewell to Arms -
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger at the broken places.” 
You will be stronger at those broken places, Spencer, I have no doubt about it. 
And besides, if you don’t make it out of there, how do you  propose to ever meet me? 
Whilst on a role, you grabbed a clean sheet of paper and started scrawling again. 
Jennifer,
Thank you for your letter. I have spent some time musing on your suggestion and I think you might be right. 
I think it's time for me to take a trip to DC…
***
Spencer never opened your last letter because he had no intention of replying to it. If he didn’t read it, he could pretend you had never sent it and he wouldn’t be tempted to write a response. 
Instead he stuffed it between the pages of his book and tried not to think about it. 
After two and half months his team proved his innocence and he was released but he was thrown into the deep end of trying to find his mother. 
And even once he found her unscathed, he was rapidly thrust right into Scratch’s web after he kidnapped Emily. 
Taking the elevator back up to the BAU alongside JJ after they’d escorted Emily to the hospital it already felt like a lifetime had passed since he left prison. And all he wanted to do was chronicle all of it to you. 
Maybe once the dust settled, once he’d wrapped his head around everything that happened he would open your letter and send you a reply. 
But for the first time in ten years, Spencer didn’t want to drag you into his mess. 
JJ was strangely quiet as the elevator made its ascent. He didn’t even want to be here, he’d planned on going straight home after leaving the hospital. He hadn’t slept in his own bed for two and a half months and he couldn’t wait to collapse into it. 
But JJ had insisted that instead of him getting the metro home, if he popped back to the BAU with her to collect some paperwork, she would drive him home. 
And honestly he was just too exhausted to decline. 
JJ’s eyes were hyper focused on the digital floor numbers as they got higher. A few seconds after it displayed number five, one floor below the BAU, she turned and looked at him. 
“Don’t hate me for this.” She blurted out. 
“Excuse me?” Spencer frowned, too tired to try to understand what she meant. 
“I couldn’t just let it go.” She shrugged, a guilty smile on her lips. 
“Let what go?” His frown deepened. 
Her eyes flicked back upwards as the number five rolled into the number six and the elevator started to judder as it prepared to stop. 
“Just remember I love you and that’s the only reason I interfered.” She shrugged as the elevator stopped entirely and soon the doors were peeling open. 
Spencer looked away from her and out of the open doors to where someone was standing just a few feet back. 
Spencer’s eyes landed on the stranger only it wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew exactly who this person was standing on the BAU floor. 
He remembered the way JJ had read him your letter and how you’d told him your heart knows his heart. 
Well his heart knew yours too. And he knew the heart beating a few feet away from him was yours. 
“Y/N?” He croaked, slowly stepping out of the elevator but not too close to you. 
“Spencer?” You smiled at him, the kind that reached all the way to your eyes. 
Neither of you noticed JJ slipping quietly away, wanting to give you some privacy. 
“What are you doing here?” His brows were furrowed and he was rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. 
“You’re friend JJ wrote to me. She told me everything that happened to you. And she made me realise that ten years is too long to wait for a first meeting.” Your voice was like honey to Spencer’s ears. 
Your prose was beautiful, but hearing the words from your lips as you stood in front of him in all your ethereal glory was more than any letter could convey. 
“I…I am actually speechless.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 
“You? Speechless?” You giggled and Spencer felt the sound all the way to his heart. 
“You’ll come to learn I am much more of a wordsmith on paper. In person I am incredibly awkward and often trip over my words. I ramble when I’m nervous or clam up entirely, no in between. I spout facts and statistics rather than have a meaningful conversation. I am much more comfortable writing my words down on paper than speaking them out loud.” He let the words spill out of his mouth, proving his point entirely. 
“I’ve waited ten years to hear your voice. Please never stop talking.” You smiled so brightly at him he felt like he was floating. 
You were here in front of him, not just hidden between pages of letters. You were real, tangible; within his reach. 
And suddenly the last thing Spencer wanted to do was talk. 
He took a few tentative steps towards you and cautiously raised a hand to your cheek. You sighed in content when he cupped your face and nuzzled against his palm. 
“I could talk to you about anything and everything all day long, my love.” He smiled, inching his face closer to yours. “But at this moment in time I have one slightly more pressing desire to do with my mouth rather than speak.” 
“Oh yeah?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. 
The warmth of your body and your smile encompassed him. As he looked into your eyes, finally looked into your eyes, every bad thing that had ever happened to him slipped away. 
“Love starts as a feeling, but to continue is a choice. And I find myself choosing you, more and more every day.” He quoted Justin Wetch’s Bending the Universe. 
“Spence?” 
“Yes Y/N?” 
“As sweet as that is, I thought there were more pressing desires to use your mouth for?” 
“If you insist.” He smiled and quickly closed the small space between you.
When his lips finally met yours it felt like all the pieces of the universe were falling into place. 
For ten long years you’d communicated in the pages of letters, constructing replies to what felt like one sided conversations that were confined to only live on paper. 
As the kiss deepened every single one of those words seemed to float in the air around you, spiralling like a tornado made of a decade worth of missives. 
He swore he could hear each and every word whispered to him in the voice he’d longed to hear all these years as he kissed you like you were the most important being on the face of the earth. 
And when he pulled back and mumbled I love you against your lips, it was the easiest reply you’d ever given. 
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Whispers of the Dragon's Heart
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pairing: Fanon!Alicent Hightower x Male OC
summary: It is time for Alicent to give birth to her first child which was secretly fathered by Daegor Targaryen.
Word count: 3,1K
Warnings: Fluff, cheating, infidelity, childbirth
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The library was a refuge from the prying eyes of the Red Keep, a place where secrets were whispered among dusty tomes and the flickering light of candles. Alicent Hightower and Daegor Targaryen sat in a corner, their voices hushed, but their hearts pounding with a forbidden love.
The room was shrouded in an atmosphere of solemnity, the shelves filled with ancient knowledge and the scent of old parchment. Candles cast long shadows on the towering bookcases, giving the impression that they were hidden in the depths of a cavern, far from the machinations of the court.
Alicent's emerald eyes were alight with a mixture of longing and fear as she gazed at Daegor, who sat across from her. His violet eyes, so like those of his brother Viserys, held a calm determination that she found both reassuring and unnerving.
"Daegor," Alicent whispered, her voice trembling, "we cannot continue like this. The risk of discovery grows with every stolen moment."
Daegor reached out, his hand brushing against hers in a tender caress. "I know, Alicent, but I cannot deny what we feel for each other. Our love is worth the risk."
She looked down at their intertwined fingers, her heart aching with love for the man before her. "I love you, Daegor," she confessed, her voice barely audible.
Daegor's thumb brushed against her knuckles as he smiled softly. "And I love you, my sweet Alicent. I dream of a future where we can be together openly, away from the prying eyes of King Viserys."
Alicent's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her fears momentarily forgotten in the warmth of Daegor's presence. "I dream of it too, my love."
But their stolen moment of tenderness was interrupted by a sudden, sharp pain that gripped Alicent's abdomen. She gasped, her hand flying to her belly, her knuckles turning white from the intensity of the pain.
Daegor leaped to his feet, his concern overriding everything else. "Alicent, are you all right?"
She nodded, trying to hide her discomfort. "It's nothing, just a twinge."
Daegor didn't buy her reassurance. He moved closer, gently helping her to her feet. "We should get you back to your chambers. I'll find a maester."
Daegor wasted no time. He swiftly led Alicent out of the library, his arm supporting her as they navigated the Red Keep's corridors. Her contractions were growing stronger, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to hide her pain.
In a nearby hallway, Daegor spotted Maester Owen, a trusted healer of the Red Keep. Without hesitation, he approached the maester, his face etched with a look of deep concern.
"Maester Owen," Daegor called out, "I was passing by the library when I found the Queen in great pain. I fear she may be going into labor. Please, come quickly!"
The maester's eyes widened in alarm at the news. He was aware of the Queen's advanced pregnancy and the potential complications that could arise. Without a moment's hesitation, he nodded and followed Daegor back to Alicent's chambers.
As they entered her private quarters, Alicent was sprawled out on a luxurious couch, her face contorted with pain. Maester Owen immediately rushed to her side, assessing her condition with a practiced eye.
Daegor stood nearby, his expression a mixture of genuine concern and the anxiety that came with the weight of their shared secret. He watched as Maester Owen tended to Alicent, doing his best to reassure her that everything would be fine.
The maester, after a thorough examination, determined that the Queen was indeed in labor. He turned to Daegor and said, "Your timely intervention may have saved both the Queen and the child, Prince Daegor. I will do everything in my power to ensure a safe delivery."
Alicent, still in pain but relieved that they had made it this far without her secret being exposed, managed a grateful smile toward Daegor. He nodded in response, silently promising to stand by her side through this ordeal.
With the lie successfully planted, Maester Owen continued to attend to Queen Alicent, and the process of bringing a Prince or princess into the world began in earnest. Daegor watched over them, praying that their love and their secret would remain hidden, at least until the child was born.
As Maester Owen continued his efforts to assist Queen Alicent through her labor, he couldn't help but notice the unease in the room. His eyes darted between Alicent and Daegor, and the fact that Daegor was present during such an intimate moment raised suspicions in his mind.
With a furrowed brow, Maester Owen finally voiced his concerns, "My lord, while your assistance is appreciated, it is highly irregular for a man to be present during a childbirth. I must insist that you leave the room at once."
Daegor's heart sank. He knew that any further insistence on staying would only raise more questions. He couldn't risk exposing their affair or the true parentage of the child. He nodded, trying to mask the turmoil in his eyes.
"I understand, Maester Owen," Daegor replied, his voice strained. "I will go and find King Viserys immediately. He should know of the Queen's condition."
With a heavy heart, Daegor turned and slipped out of the room, leaving Alicent in the capable hands of the maester. His mind raced as he made his way through the Red Keep, his thoughts filled with fear for Alicent's safety and the memories of his past loss.
As Daegor reached King Viserys' chambers, he was greeted by a guard who informed him that the King was in a council meeting. Daegor couldn't wait, so he quickly devised a plan to inform the King of Alicent's situation without revealing too much.
Entering the council chamber, Daegor approached King Viserys, who was engaged in a heated discussion with his advisors. He leaned in and whispered urgently, "Your Grace, Queen Alicent is in distress. Maester Owen is with her, but he requires your presence immediately."
Viserys, his face pale with worry, excused himself from the council meeting and followed Daegor to Alicent's chambers. Daegor's heart pounded with anxiety as he hoped that the King's presence would ensure Alicent's safety.
Little did he know that the events set in motion by this childbirth would have far-reaching consequences for the Targaryen dynasty and the realm itself.
Hours turned into a seemingly endless wait as Daegor stood beside King Viserys outside the birthing chamber. He had convinced the King that his presence would offer comfort to Queen Alicent, drawing upon the memory of his late wife, Mya. It was a lie, of course, but one that Viserys believed without question.
Inside the chamber, the sounds of Queen Alicent's labor pains echoed through the hallway. Each scream, each cry, sent a shiver down Daegor's spine. He couldn't help but flinch with each agonizing sound, his face a mask of concern and sympathy. Viserys, preoccupied with his own worries, failed to notice the turmoil in Daegor's eyes.
As the hours dragged on, Daegor's anxiety grew. He knew that childbirth was a perilous journey, one he had witnessed end in tragedy before. He had lost his own wife, Mya, and their unborn child in such a way, and the memory haunted him still.
But for Alicent's sake, and for the sake of the child that might bear his blood, he could do nothing but wait and hope. The cries from the birthing chamber were a constant reminder of the fragility of life, and Daegor prayed silently that history would not repeat itself.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Maester Owen emerged from the room, his expression inscrutable. Daegor's heart leaped into his throat, and he exchanged a worried glance with Viserys.
The maester cleared his throat before addressing the King. "Your Grace, Queen Alicent has given birth to a healthy son."
Relief washed over Daegor, and he couldn't help but smile. He had feared the worst, but now it seemed that fate had been kinder to them. Viserys, too, beamed with joy at the news of an heir, oblivious to the complexity of the situation.
Daegor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope and love for the child he could not publicly claim as his own. He knew that the secret would remain hidden for now, but the challenges that lay ahead were far from over.
As Viserys left Daegor alone outside the birthing chamber to meet his newborn son and Queen Alicent, Daegor stood there, torn between his desire to see Alicent and their child and the need to maintain the façade of an innocent bystander.
He watched the door to the chamber, anxiety gnawing at him as he imagined the joy and relief inside. Alicent had successfully given birth to a healthy son, and Viserys would be overjoyed. Daegor's heart swelled with a mixture of happiness for the mother and child and the ache of knowing he couldn't openly share in their moment.
Minutes turned into an agonizing wait as Daegor fought against the urge to enter the room. He knew that his presence in there could raise suspicions, unraveling the elaborate web of deception they had woven. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white with the effort to control his emotions.
Finally, the door to the birthing chamber opened once more, and Viserys emerged, cradling the swaddled infant in his arms. A proud smile adorned the King's face as he looked at Daegor.
"Daegor," Viserys called out, "meet your new nephew. I have named him Aegon, in honor of our forefathers."
Daegor approached Viserys, his heart heavy with both relief and sorrow. He gazed at the innocent babe, Aegon, who bore no resemblance to him but was still his own flesh and blood.
"He's beautiful, Your Grace," Daegor said, forcing a smile as he feigned joy.
Viserys nodded, blissfully unaware of the truth. "Alicent is resting now. She has gone through quite the ordeal. We shall celebrate the birth of our heir together, Daegor."
Daegor agreed, his thoughts racing as he contemplated the challenges that lay ahead. He would continue to play the role of the loyal uncle and brother, hiding his love for Alicent and the secret of Aegon's true parentage. It was a delicate dance of deceit, and Daegor knew that one wrong step could bring their carefully constructed world crashing down.
As Viserys handed the swaddled infant Aegon to Daegor, a lump formed in Daegor's throat. He couldn't help but feel a swell of emotions as he cradled the child that was his own flesh and blood, the secret he had guarded so carefully. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he blinked them back, hoping Viserys would attribute his emotional display to the circumstances.
"Your Grace," Daegor began, his voice wavering with feigned emotion, "holding this child reminds me of my own loss. My late wife, Mya, and I lost our child in childbirth. It's a feeling of both joy and sorrow, and I can't help but be moved by the sight of this precious babe."
Viserys nodded sympathetically, unaware of the truth behind Daegor's tears. "I understand, Daegor. Loss is a difficult burden to bear, but today, we celebrate new life and hope for the future."
Daegor nodded, gently rocking the infant Aegon in his arms. He marveled at the tiny features of the child, so full of potential and promise. But his joy was tempered by the knowledge that he could never publicly claim this child as his own, and he couldn't openly acknowledge the love he felt for Queen Alicent.
Viserys placed a reassuring hand on Daegor's shoulder. "We will raise Aegon to be a great Targaryen prince, strong and wise, just like his uncle."
Daegor's heart ached with the weight of his hidden love and secret. He nodded once more, vowing to protect Aegon's identity and his love for Alicent at all costs, even if it meant living a life of deception and denying the truth to the world.
Under the shroud of darkness, when the Red Keep lay in slumber and its corridors were silent, Daegor Targaryen ventured through the hidden passages he had discovered as a young boy. He moved with stealth and purpose, navigating the labyrinthine paths that led to Queen Alicent's chambers. His heart pounded with a mixture of longing and trepidation.
As Daegor approached the queen's door, he found it slightly ajar, and his heart skipped a beat. Alicent, knowing he was coming, had stayed awake to see him. He gently pushed the door open and slipped inside, his eyes meeting those of the woman he loved and the son he had fathered in secret.
Alicent was seated near the hearth, holding their newborn son, Aegon, in her arms. The soft glow of the firelight illuminated her face, revealing a mix of exhaustion and tenderness. She looked up as Daegor entered, her eyes brightening at the sight of him.
"Daegor," she whispered, her voice filled with affection and relief. "I've been waiting for you."
Daegor crossed the room in a few swift strides, his heart overflowing with love and longing. He knelt beside Alicent, his eyes fixed on the tiny bundle she cradled. With trembling hands, he reached out and gently touched Aegon's cheek, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of his secret son.
"He's beautiful," Daegor said, his voice filled with wonder and emotion. "Our son, Alicent."
Alicent nodded, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked down at the child they had brought into the world together. "Yes, Daegor, our son. Our love has given life to this precious boy."
Daegor leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Aegon's forehead before turning to Alicent. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had welled in her eyes. "I love you, Alicent, more than words can express. I will do everything in my power to protect you and our son."
Alicent's lips met his in a passionate and longing kiss, sealing their shared secret with an unspoken promise. In the quiet hours of the night, they were united in their love for each other and their commitment to keeping their forbidden affair hidden from the world.
As the night stretched on, Daegor and Alicent found solace in each other's arms, knowing that their love was a secret flame that could never be extinguished, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.
In the hushed moments after their shared embrace, Daegor's concern for Alicent deepened. He pulled away slightly, his hands tenderly framing her face as he looked into her eyes, searching for any signs of distress.
"Alicent," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine worry, "how are you feeling? Giving birth must have taken a toll on you. Are you in pain? Is there anything I can do to help?"
Alicent smiled weakly, appreciating his genuine concern. She reached out, placing her hand over his. "I'm weary, Daegor, but I'll recover. The maester has assured me that I and Aegon are both in good health. Holding our son, feeling his warmth against my skin, it brings me strength."
Daegor nodded, relief washing over him as he heard about their well-being. Still, he couldn't shake off his worries entirely. "Please, Alicent, promise me that if you ever need anything, if you feel unwell or if Aegon does, you will send for me immediately. I cannot bear the thought of you suffering in silence."
Alicent nodded, her eyes reflecting the depth of her trust in him. "I promise, Daegor. You've always been my refuge, my sanctuary in the storm. I will not hesitate to reach out if I need you."
Their hands remained entwined, and Daegor pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. In that moment, they found strength in each other's presence, knowing that despite the challenges they faced, their love would be their guiding light through the darkness that lay ahead.
Daegor cradled little Aegon in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth as he softly sang a High Valyrian lullaby, the words flowing with a melodic cadence
"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, Aegon, Dohaeriros jin arlītsos, hen jon nādīn. Skoriot avy aōha zōbrie issa, Aegon, Vezhofīli rhaeshis anhaan, ao sagon īlvi."
"Little dragon, close your eyes, Aegon, Dream of lands far and wide, where you'll go. Stars above will guard you, Aegon, With the love of your mother and father's embrace."
The soothing words seemed to work their magic, as Aegon's eyelids grew heavy, and his tiny fingers slowly unclenched. Daegor carefully placed the sleeping babe into his cot, tucking him in with great care.
Turning his attention back to Alicent, Daegor offered her a supportive arm, his worry for her well-being still etched on his face. "Alicent, let me help you back to bed. The maester was right; a bit of movement will do you good."
Alicent leaned on Daegor, her steps slow and cautious as she made her way back to the bed. The pain from childbirth still lingered, but she was determined to regain her strength for their son's sake.
Daegor gently lowered her onto the bed, his eyes filled with tenderness and concern. "Rest now, my love. I'll be here to watch over both you and Aegon. You've done marvelously."
Alicent managed a small, grateful smile, her exhaustion evident in her eyes. "Thank you, Daegor, for being here with us, for loving us."
Daegor leaned down, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead. "Always, Alicent. Always."
As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Daegor Targaryen knew it was time to leave. He had spent the night in quiet vigil, watching over Alicent and their newborn son, Aegon, making sure they were safe and well.
With a heavy heart, he carefully placed a handwritten letter by Alicent's side on the bed. The letter contained his most heartfelt words, expressing his love, devotion, and the promise of their secret bond. It was a testament to the love they shared, a love that had to remain hidden from the world.
With one last lingering look at the sleeping queen and their child, Daegor turned and silently made his way to the door. He moved with the same stealth he had used to enter the room, ensuring that no one would see him, especially not Alicent's vigilant handmaidens who were likely to arrive early to tend to their queen.
As he stepped into the corridor, Daegor knew that their secret was safe for now, and that he would continue to protect and cherish both Alicent and Aegon from the shadows. He could only hope that someday, circumstances would allow their love to be openly acknowledged, but until then, their whispered affections and hidden bond would have to suffice.
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yoonia · 2 months
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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xii
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⟶ Chapter summary | The daunting stories of the other kingdoms in the Far Far Away land allure you, helping you forget the formidable circumstances that you must deal with as you adjust living in your new home. 
⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 7,062 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include some form of classism, black magic, deceit ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi ⟶ Author’s note | Continuing our adventure with the story, this chapter and the few upcoming ones may show or imply some places and characters mentioned in the other stories included in the Once Upon A Fantasy collab that this story is a part of. Spoilers may be hinted in this story, but there will be no need for you to read the other stories first to enjoy this series.
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chapter xii. alias
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Warm sunlight piercing through the windows, forming golden curtains as they fall against the grey walls and dark beige floors during late afternoons. 
The air that carries with it the salty scent of sea, which grows stale and humid as you walk down the dark hallways, or when you venture through the quarters located on the lower ground of the main palace. 
Cold breeze brushes against your skin as you pass through the connecting halls between the main palace and your private quarters at the West Tower. A complete contrast to the warmth within your bedchamber which seems endless, welcoming you like a warm hug upon your return from your long day. 
The rhythmical sound of waves crashing against the rocky walls bordering between the palace grounds and the Carmine Sea often accompanies you, whether lulling you towards your peaceful slumber in the night or allowing you a peaceful reprieve during the day.  
The mixed scent of dusts, dried ink, stained papers, and old books permeating through the palace’s library often accompanies you during your tutoring hours. You often allow yourself to be drowned in them as you get lost in the books that you are reading, or while you are deep into the tutoring sessions with Lady Laurel and Lord Gordan during the day. 
There are a list of things that you have begun to associate with your new home. 
Weeks have long passed since you moved into The Stargrave Castle. As you keep busying yourself, your father’s absence no longer feels disconcerting. You no longer feel as if you had been tossed in a foreign land to fend for yourself. And for some reason, even without his presence, you have found a way to get to know more about the King himself, as if his story is written in every single nook and cranny within the home castle. 
Through the set of keys that he had left you with and the enchanted doors you venture into, you have learned so much about his magic, his secret endeavours, the other lives that he has lived in under his other personas, and the way he was seeing the word. Through the lessons that you have been given and the daily conversation that you have had with the King’s loyal aides and disciples, you have been learning more about your father’s work and his way of ruling the kingdom. 
Granted, there are still so many secrets behind his work and his magic, the latter is the one that he seems to hold dear as a lifeline that not even a single one of this closest aides could explain to you when you tried to sneakily question them, yet you have learned just enough to be able to understand about him more. 
Through the places you have found within the castle, from the treasure rooms to the library and his royal study, you are beginning to learn more about the family history—the King’s family history—when the golden plates and the ruby stones could tell you not only how long he had slowly started building his empire, but also how far he had traveled to gain his riches and support to help his people. 
There are still so many things that you wish to learn. Not only about your father, but your entire family, as you had never truly learned about your own roots aside from what has been written in the books for the commoners to learn about the royal family.
But above all, what has made you more curious to learn would be about your mother. Other than her paintings and pictures that you were left with, and the necklace that you have been given to, you realise that you have nothing else left of hers that could tell you more about her.
Who was she, the woman who had stolen the heart of the Wicked King? Where did she come from? Did she ever learn about magic, or the family secret that your father has entrusted upon you the day he departed from the home castle?
And if your mother, the Queen, had once lived in this castle, which part of the castle had her private quarters had been located in? Or had she spent most of her life sharing the same quarters with the King? 
Did you father ever entrusted her with the same set of keys? And if he did, had she ever traveled down these hallways, trying out the secret doors—whether they are the ones with the treasures or the ones that had been enchanted with spells—and learned the same secret that your father had kept just like you have?
Over the years, you have tried to learn more about the Queen from your governess. Yet Nanny Abigail had only ever answered your questions with the most simple words that any child would yearn to hear—
“Her Majesty was the most gracious Queen that the people had once admired and loved.”
“The Queen was the most beautiful woman in the empire, not one had ever hold the candle to her beauty, not until you arrived in this world, Your Highness.” 
“Her Majesty was smart, brilliant, and talented, if it hadn’t been her beauty that had caught the King’s heart, then it would have been her brilliant mind.” 
Despite how good it made you feel to hear nothing more but good things about your mother shared by the person who had claimed to have known her the most, nothing that she had said to you ever answered your true questions. 
And none of the written books and scriptures that you have found in the library has the answers as well, no matter how hard you have looked. 
Regardless, you have learned so much more than you had ever asked for through the books that you have found in the royal library. As they have given you the most insight about life here in this fairy tale land. As of late, whenever you are not deep in the long, lecturing hours, you would find yourself diving deeper and deeper into these books. 
Each written text that you have found there almost have the same effect to you as the doors you often travel into, as they take you into various journeys and exciting adventures without taking you further away from the castle, allowing you to see more about the new world, the new realm that you have been thrust into and have yet to see before. 
With your father’s rule — ‘one magic door per day’ — which he had left you with, you were given the limitation which has hindered you from opening out as many magic doors as you possibly could while he is away. You know that he must have had his own reasons to give you such rule to follow, yet it leaves you wanting more. You want to see more places, more wonders, and more chances to somehow find a way to venture through other places within the fairy tale land instead of having to go back to the human realm to see the same places you had once gone to. 
Deep down, you are quite sure that the magic doors would one day take you to see these amazing, magical places that you have been reading about. Until then, the books have become a different mean of traveling that you can enjoy. 
Just like how you are about to be using one of those books now as a form of escape. 
There is a pep in your footsteps as you are leaving your afternoon lessons, hugging the thick book that you have chosen to bring back from the library to waste the rest of your afternoon. The exhaustion that you have been feeling from your latest exploit through the magic door still follows you around, clinging onto your bones and muscles as you make your way back to your bedchamber. Yet the excitement of reading the stories about the magical lands and kingdoms from your new book manages to help you forget about it for a little while. 
Walking up the hallway leading to your bedchamber, your eyes are caught by the scenery that you are presented with by looking out the main window of the West Tower. From up high, the widespread ocean seems like a massive mirror, reflecting the golden afternoon sunlight and bringing more warmth into the space around you. This marvellous image has often caught your attention, leaving you astonished and in awe at the sight you are seeing. 
And just like always, once you look out into the ocean, your gaze would drift towards the high cliffs attached to the side of the palace walls. Every time this happens, your mind wanders to the mysterious mercenary that you had encountered during your latest feat. The masked man who has been visiting the long nights that you have spent in your bedchamber alone after your past encounter in a foreign town. 
Min Yoongi. 
The mere mention of his name brings back the sparks that you felt the first time you met him. It seems odd to feel a tangible bond with a complete stranger that you have just met. But you know that the feeling is real, and it seems hard for you to deny it when the sparks seem to follow you, always making their presence known whenever the thought of him crosses your mind.
Ever since the day you spent in Narlès with Min Yoongi, you have been experiencing the same dream. The images have been returning to you in broken parts like an echo of his presence. His face would appear between the hazy images of the events that you encounter during the day at Narlès. More often than not, Yoongi’s image would somehow merge together with the mysterious man that you once met in your past dream; the faceless man that came to see you at the top of the cliff above the Carmine Sea. 
Thinking about him makes you long for him. With a sigh, you wonder if you would be able to see him again should you try to venture through one of your father’s magic doors tonight. 
Except that there will be no adventure for you this evening. 
In truth, you haven’t been going through any of the magic doors ever since the last adventure you had.
The trip that you had to the market town of Narlès had taken most of your energy that it required you more than a day of rest to restore your stamina. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you when it happened, knowing that the previous trips that you had taken through the magic doors had always drained your energy that it would have taken you hours to recover. 
Normally, the only thing you needed to do was have a proper rest at night and a good sleep to replenish your energy and be ready for the next day. And yet, for some reason, days had gone by since the trip to Narlès and you have yet to restore your energy. Exhaustion still follows you, and it didn’t help that you were still feeling tired even after you had woken up from your long sleep. 
This had been one of the reasons why you have been spending more time reading, be it in the library or within the privacy of your bedchamber, searching for an adventure through the stories you read in the books about the magic realm. And it was also the reason why you had simply lost track of time reading at the library today until one of the palace maids came in to check on you out of concern. 
It wasn’t so hard for you to get so captivated with your reading material today, more than ever. 
Today’s lecture had been about the notorious kingdoms and empires within the Land of Far Far Away which you may have to become acquainted with in the future. And what you learned—although still limited in details—had left you feeling astonished that you were eager to learn more. 
You learned about the kingdom that was lead by a king who was half man-half beast, with his followers and people who would turn into their beast counterparts under the full moon. There was also the kingdom filled with mages, ruled by a powerful Mage King who has lived for more than a thousand years and is still thriving to this day.
You read stories about the empires that are being ruled under the power of the moon. One empire is said to be ordained with the blessings of two magical moons, while another is to be said to have acquired magic from the moon that the people of the empire have worshipped as the divine being which had granted them not only magic, but also life and prosperity.   
But the one story that captivated you the most was the empire that was governed by the sun. Ruled by the newly crowned Sun Emperor who was said to have fallen in love with a nameless Princess with magical voice who is notorious in the Far Far Away Land, so much so that people would travel across the continent and the wide ocean just to hear her sing. 
As you sit down in your bedchamber, lounging on the settee by the window overlooking the cliffs and the sparkling ocean, you open the book that you brought back with you which tells the tale about the sun empire, its young Emperor, and his wife, famously known as the Sunray Sparrow. 
Today, in her lecture, Lady Laurel talked a lot about the sun empire, Aetherys, in terms of its success in advanced science and technology. She had at first captivated you with the stories and pictures of the empire’s known inventions; the air ships that seemed like giant bird floating in the sky; modernised trams passing through the cities as means of transportation instead of horses and stage coaches; and buildings that are built high enough to touch the sky with artistic styles that are quite unlike any other places within the continent. 
While the story of an advanced empire had been inspiring for you to listen to, the story about the sun empire which had drawn your attention the most had been its love story. Known to be the tale of the century, it was written alongside of the empire’s centuries-old history and achievements for every other kingdoms and empires to learn about. 
“They spoke about the danger of dark magic,” explained Lady Laurel when you inquired her the reason why this love story was written as such, “As the threats from dark mages and wizards often come with no signs nor warnings. Every good ruler with magic abilities must be prepared for the day such threats may come, and these stories may proved ways in defeating them.”
Just like how the love story captivated you the first time you heard it from Lady Laurel, it makes your chest flutter as you read it all over again. Their journey, past struggles, and their love before they were finally able to rule their empire sounds like a fairy tale that is often read to young children, but the story truly happened, notorious among the people in the Land of Far Far Away which later inspired an author to write it into a book for other generations to learn in the future. 
A sigh comes out of your lips once you are done reading the story once more. 
Such love story truly exists here in the land filled with magic and wonder, all written in the books that regular people in the human realms would read as fairy tales lulling them to sleep. As you close the book and set it aside, the flutter in your chest returns, and your gaze wanders outside the window, just in time to notice how quickly time has passed since you first return to your chamber as the golden sunlight is slowly retreating beyond the horizon. 
But the sunset that would have usually captivated you doesn’t do its magic this evening. You turn away from the sight, gazing up all the way to peak of the cliffs instead. As you wonder about finding love in the fairy tale land, a certain figure appears in your mind. The same figure that you would often see in your dreams at night. 
Except that in place of the hazy image of the man with whom you encountered in your dreams many nights ago, you see the handsome face of another taking his place in your memory. One who owns a pair of cat-like eyes, wears a sly smile that seems unwavering, and speaks with a deep voice as he escorted you through the market town of Narlès during your impromptu date just a few days ago. 
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The moment you walk through the door and breathe in the air around you, you can already tell that you have once again arrived somewhere far away from home. 
Fresh air, with more earth and pine scents wafting around you instead of the salty scent of the sea or the damp air bouncing between the cold palace walls. The temperature here reminds you quite a bit of Smotia. It doesn’t make you feel homesick, yet it is still enough to make you feel a sense of longing, and you start reminiscing the things that you would normally find in Smotia to compare them with the things you get to feel in this place.
Oddly, there is also a new sensation that you have yet to feel before. The ripples of magic from the portal still clings to you the same way they always do, but there is something else here that you can feel drifting around you. An invisible force that pricks on your skin, caressing you lightly as it welcomes you in its home. 
What is this sensation? 
You wonder to yourself as you slowly take account of your surroundings. 
Once again, you find yourself emerging into an unfamiliar house. This time, you are standing inside the bedroom that appears to be tight and small, with not a sight of a door separating the room from the other parts of the house that are visible from where you are now standing.
Just like the merchant house you came out of previously at Narlès, the small house is filled with various wooden furniture, set and adorned in the bare minimum. Only enough to show people that someone lives in this house and has been regularly using it. 
A made-up bed that is big enough to fill up the entire bedroom is set in the center. The sheets are neat and clean, as if someone had taken the time to tidy up in the morning. But upon close inspection, it doesn’t seem like anyone has been using it for a while, with the sheets cold and the mattress feels hard under your touch. A knitted blanket hangs on the foot of the bed, helping to create a warm and cozy look in the room. With one touch, you realise that it is nothing more but a mock wool instead of the warm, comforting kind you would use during the winter. 
Quite a front, you wonder, smiling at your father’s meticulous effort to hide the real purpose of this small house from prying eyes.  
As you turn around, you are welcomed by a scene that is has become familiar to your eyes. Taking you back to the day you accidentally emerged into the King’s study room back at the main palace in the heart of Smotia, a full-body mirror stands at the corner of the room. The sight of the dark void that appears there instead of your reflection and the swirling magic dust dancing at its center show you where the portal is present; your point of exit that will bring you back to the home castle once you are done with your excursion.  
Looking at the portal from up close, the sight no longer seems eerie to you like how it used to be when you first began using these portals. If any, seeing them has always left you feeling astonished, always in complete awe at how the portals always appear in different shapes and at the most unexpected places you could find; a door leading to another room, the front door of a building, a closet, a mirror, a pantry filled with daily necessities, and even a wooden cupboard that barely fits your height.  
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing this kind of sight, you wonder to yourself as you refrain from reaching out to touch the dark void and its magic dust, already becoming familiar to what kind of reaction you would feel should you touch the magic.
Curious to learn more about this place, you turn away from the mirror, ignoring the en-suite bathroom and the wooden closet on the other side of the room to make your way outside. Unlike the merchant house you’ve been to, this house appears to be smaller in size. The living room seems almost bare of fancy furnitures and trinkets adorning the quiet space. 
A small kitchen with its private dining room is set up across the house, looking as tidy and clean like the rest of them. You try to picture yourself living here and making use of the rooms, as it seems impossible to imagine seeing your father, the ruler of the empire, sitting in such a small space with his grand presence. 
Thinking about it makes you smile, and it only makes you feel more eager to see what kind of world that you may find right outside of these walls. 
Opening the front door, you almost think that you are walking out of another portal. The house seems to be hidden between giant trees, making it seem as if you are walking out of a tree as you emerge into what appears to be the edge of the forest. 
You don’t sense any time difference between this place and the home castle, yet the darkness that welcomes you as you step out of the house almost plays a trick on you. It leaves you feeling disoriented for a moment, thinking that you have arrived in the evening time. But then you look up, catching the streaks of sunlight penetrating through the thick foliage to know that you still have some daytime left to venture around. 
You tighten your cloak—once again dressed as a common traveller for this trip—and graze over the dagger hanging on your hips for the final reassurance that you need. What lies ahead of you is a mystery to unfold, with possible danger lurking close the same way it did in the previous places you visited, and having your golden dagger with you gives you some sense of security. 
With your resolve, you begin your march into the thick woods ahead of you to find out where you have arrived to.
Traveling through the forest doesn’t take as much of an effort as you had expected it would. From the tree house, you follow along the gravel-covered pathway taking you through the dense woods, taking your time with your journey as you enjoy finding a serene moment by walking between the giant trees. 
Around you, the massive trunks appear like protective walls, with the top of the trees almost reaching all the way up to the sky above. The thick canopy of leaves provide you the perfect shelter, with streaks of sunlight escaping through the gaps to help you find your way.
The sounds of birds chirping and the murmurs of wild animals moving about from the deepest side of the forest become your company against the stillness. It feels peaceful, and you can slowly feel your troubling throughs being silenced by this sense of calmness. 
Not too long, the ground begin going downhill and you can tell that you are coming close to the end of the pathway; the sound of the forest slowly fading, the fresh air slowly shifting with a hint of smell from dirt and firewood, the trees growing sparse and thin the more you walk. 
And then, right before your eyes, the line of trees opens up to what seems to be a main road of a small village—or town. The main road is quite small, and presently empty. Typical to many roads crossing through small towns, there is only dirt covering the road, with traces of carriage wheels, horses trails, and human footprints imprinted along the dirt road.
Looking around, you try to be cautious yet hopeful to find any clue which could show you where to go or find people to talk to. And then you decide to follow the dirt road, not stopping until you reach what seems to be a small village. 
Rows of houses appear before you. The village seems quiet, closed off, some looking unkempt with wild vines growing on the walls and even reaching all the way up to the roof, while others are looking like they are housing more farm animals rather than a family of humans. You can see wooden fences marking their modest property, with piles of hay lined up on some of the open yards and small animals roaming within the barriers.  
Everywhere you look, there is not a sight of familiar-looking insignias or markings that may indicate if this village is a part of the empire’s territory, making you wary about going further to take a closer look at the housings to see if you can find the people residing within them. 
Walking cautiously through the village, you realise that you have yet to see anyone coming out of the houses or the barns. A situation which seems quite peculiar, as the sun is still quite high in the afternoon and the weather is warmer here compared to the estate you had emerged from. 
This is definitely a farmers’ village, but where did everyone go? 
Just as you are beginning to feel lost, you catch a sight a group of men walking towards the village, coming from the opposite side of the road. With cautions and determination to find answers, you walk up to them, meeting them halfway while mustering the courage to greet them. 
Noticing you, the men raise their heads and slow down. All eyes are on you, filled with curiosity and alert to a stranger who is suddenly coming to them. 
Upon closer look, you identify them as local farmers. Each men wearing clothes coated with dirt and soil, and carrying with them various types of farming tools, either in their hands or hoisted on their shoulders. A couple of the men walking at the back appear to be the younger in age, and they are pulling wheelbarrows filled with goods and crops that they must have just gathered from the field. 
“Excuse me, Sir?” you greet them with a polite bow, and the men stop moving completely to regard you. “May I inquire you the name of this place? Where exactly are we?” 
The exhausted farmers look puzzled at your question. They exchange incredulous gazes with each other for a moment, which makes you feel quite uneasy. None of them seem to be irritated with your intrusion, however, much to your relief. 
In fact, they appear mostly to be in—disbelief, upon hearing your question.
“Why—” one of the gruff looking farmers looks around at his workmates one last time before answering you, “we are in Grimm, lass.” Instead of mockery that you had expected to receive from him, there is a subtle pride brimming in his voice, which only becomes more evident when he raises his chin proudly and adds, “The farming district of Grimm.” 
Your eyes grow wide. “Ah, I see,” you politely mutter to him while you work through your memories to recall where exactly you have heard this name before.  
“Yer not from around here, are ye?” Another farmer questions you. The man seems to be the oldest  among his peers. From the look in his eyes, you can see that he is perhaps the most respected one of them all, also shown from the way the younger ones behind him seem to be letting their guard down once he has spoken.
Seeing that he seems to be the leader, you offer him a smile and give him a courteous nod. “No, Sir. I’m just passing through.” 
A different farmer lets out a surprised laugh. “Well, that’ll explain it,” he says with a thick accent that sounds foreign to your ears. In fact, the other ones have that same accent, all heavy and somehow sounding delightful for you to hear as they start murmuring to one another. “Sorry for being wary, lass. We don’t get much of visitors here in Grimm, unless ye have some business with the fellas from the farmsteads.” 
Again, you offer a polite smile as you speak. “No business here, I’m afraid. I’m just traveling through. Figured might as well see around the area—as long as I’m not intruding anyone, that is,” you explain calmly, using the same excuse that you have been using as of late each time you are met with strangers during your excursions. 
“Good luck with that then, lass. Nothing to see here but the boring farm, some dirty barns, and old farmers like us,” the same farmer says, “Unless ye want to travel downtown or the main towns. Lots of interesting stuff to see there.” 
You store these information for later, to use when you eventually need to decide whether you want to venture further away from the portal. “Are you heading back from the farm grounds, Sir?” you try to question them as you point out at their tools. 
The older farmer looks over at his fellas. “That there is true. ’Tis the crop season, so every farmer in the village are working hard to secure the crops and tend the meadows. Us folks are just coming back for a break while secure these crops here to bring home to our family”—he says as he points out at the wheelbarrows they are pulling with them, all filled to the brim—”but we’re not done just yet for the day. We still have some work to do. Even the wives and children are out there in the farm, handling crops and stocks before nightfall comes.” 
That explains why the village is so quiet. Everyone is out there, working together to harvest their goods. 
Just as the older farmer finishes speaking, the younger one from the back of the line shouts his question to you, “Did ye come down from up the hills there, lass?” 
Looking over to him, you follow his gaze and glance over your shoulder, noticing from the distance the pathway piercing through the forest from which you came from. “Yes, Sir. I did.” 
“That seems to be Lord Ahn’s private property. Ye know the fella?” a curious one from the group asks you while his eyes remain looking up the ascending foothill, as if he can still see you walking down the path to come across the village. 
Ahn. Is that another one of Father’s false identity? You wonder to yourself just as your memory takes you back to the paperwork you found back in Narlès. What was the name written in those letters again? 
You try to remember, just as Sir Elias’ deep voice rings through your head—
“Anee?” 
That’s right. Baron Aran of South Narlès. So this must be Father’s other name that he uses here.
“I am…a distant relative of the Lord, kind Sir,” you cautiously say to them while hoping that none of them had actually shared personal stories with ‘Lord Ahn’. 
Father should’ve left me with his paperwork and the list of his disguises along with his keys when he left.  
Thankfully, it seems that they believe your lies. Because the men only nod their heads with admiration before the first farmer who spoke to you muses, “What a fine man Lord Ahn is, so I surmise you are just as nobble as the man. Are ye sightseeing around the Lord’s estate?” 
You laugh nervously, stifling your relief to answer, “I just want to look around out of curiosity. I am learning how to do business myself, so I thought to have a quick look of my great uncle’s estate while I was in the middle of travelling before officially learning more.” 
This sparks yet another look of approval from the men. “A lass learning a man’s business. What fine bloodline the Lord has come from,”the old farmer says to you. “Just follow this road ahead and ye shall find the open land belonging to the Lord. You’ll see the village’s men working on the field as we speak.” 
“So it would be right to assume that there’s where you’ve been working then, my kind Sirs?” 
Another farmer answers, “Aye. We always work with the Lord’s workmen during harvesting season like this one and right before winter comes. Lord Ahn has the biggest estate to care for and there are many able men here in this village to do all the work.” 
You bow at them to show your gratitude. “Thank you kindly for the help, Sir. I shall continue my journey before the day grows dark, then. I pray that you’ll have a good day.” 
The farmers begin to make their leave, continuing their journey home while dragging their tired feet and heavy tools with them. But not before leaving you with a warning, “Beware of any suspicious men, lass. Be sure to return before nightfall.” 
“Right, as he says. This land here isn’t safe for a young lass once evening comes,” another adds. 
“Stay away from the forest ‘is well. ’Tis dangerous for a young lass to be too deep between those trees,” says the oldest farmer, causing you to smile at the kind warning that he gives out of concern, until he suddenly adds just as he leaves, “much less for a lass with unrefined magic like yourself.” 
With those words, your breath is suddenly caught in your throat. 
Your heartbeat picks up when realisation dawns on you. 
That this is no longer the human realm. You have finally arrived at a different place within the Land of Far Far Away. 
“And if ye ever get lost or gone too deep into that forest, remember to stay away from any old castle if ye see ‘em. Stay under the sun and stay close to the people’s side of the village, is all I say,” says the last farmer of the group as they walk away, while you let his words slowly sink in.  
A castle hidden inside the forest. Forbidden for you to come close or to enter. 
“Well, that sounds…familiar,” you muse under your breath, suddenly recalling the rumours spreading in Smotia that has been plaguing almost your entire life. 
“Take care there, lass. Enjoy yer stay here,” the oldest farmer says for the last time with his gentle voice before he joins the others. “If ye ever need any help, that there’s a tavern for travellers at the village borders called Y’Old Whispers. O’Moran’s the owner. Just say yer new ‘round here and he’ll have ye the fine brew of his that’s said to be good for young elves.” 
You have no words to say as you watch the farmers walk away. Each one nodding their goodbyes to you awkwardly yet so pleasantly that you almost feel guilty for not being able to say a thing in return. 
But your words simply fail you. Your mind is too busy taking all of these new information in. 
Finding out that you are in a magic town no longer seems relevant after all the things that you just heard from the old farmer. As he walks further away, you can still hear the murmurs of him conversing with one of his workmates who keeps asking him questions. 
Each word coming out of him are all about you. 
“…I can sense it. There’s no mistaking this gaffer…” 
Even without listening to him directly, you know exactly what he means with his words. What the old farmer sensed was you. And you clearly heard him say that you have unrefined magic within you, right before he mentioned ‘young elves’. 
Had he really been referring to you when he spoke of such a thing?  
Just who…who in the gods name am I, really? You ask yourself as you look down at your own hands, as if you can find the answers there. Except that there is nothing written there. Nothing that you can feel within your grasp except for the shadow of the sparkling magic that seems to follow you ever since you stepped out of your father’s magic portal. 
What other secrets are there that your father is keeping from you? What is it about you that your father is still hiding? 
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You were almost right about this place being similar to Smotia. 
At first glance, everything seems quite similar, but the more you get to look around you, you soon find out that things are not quite the same. Barring the villagers dwellings that you saw earlier, what you find as you continue your journey down the road reminds you of a smaller version of the Land of Smotia. And yet, for some reason, you can feel that there is something lingering in the air that feels darker, more sinister, something that not even the bright sunlight above you is capable of hiding. 
Once the main road ends, the land opens up to a vast pastureland which puts you in awe. 
As far as the eye can see, lush green fields undulate gently under the warm embrace of the sun, their golden crops swaying in rhythmic unison under the flowing breeze. Rows of meticulously tended crops, from amber waves of wheat to vibrant expanses of emerald cornfields, flourishing before your eyes like a patchwork quilt laid out across the hills and valleys that seem endless. The air is redolent with the earthy perfume of fertile soil and fresh crops, and there is a hint of dew drifting in the air despite the warm sun. 
Under the open sky, the melodious chirping of wild birds, the rustling leaves of the towering trees bordering the estate, and the trickling sound of the sparkling river appearing not too far in the distance become music to your ears. 
If the sounds of the forest calmed you, the sounds that you hear breezing through the air feel invigorating, drawing you further towards its center, where farmers are seen working and tending to the crops and the fertile land. 
This is where those men had come from, you muse as you watch the hard working men, young and old, who are working across the meadows. The conversation you shared earlier plays out in your mind as you marvel at the sights you see around you, making you wonder to yourself, 
Is this the estate that they referred to earlier? 
Is this where Father gains his valuable crops, those that wouldn’t be able to grow in the Land of Smotia?  
As you wonder about your father’s—and, inadvertently, the empire’s—connection to this place, you start to get lost in your marvelling, still too astounded at the wondrous sight of the prosper land. Until something peculiar happening at the center of the field catches your attention. 
A movement. Deviating from the unformed motions of the farmers weaving through the rows of crops. 
A figure that looks completely unlike the farmers nor the locals who are seen engaging themselves with their work on the field, that his entire presence easily stands out among others. 
You find it hard to look away as he begins making his way towards you, while you come to a halt right in the middle of the field. It feels as if you are stuck in a dream state, as you watch him coming closer to you. Wearing bright coloured clothing that appears to be a common villager’s attire instead of the dark cloak and black attire he was wearing the last time you met him, and a bamboo hat covering his hair and face, he seems like a mirage that is slowly entering your dream while you are wide awake. 
Everything around you seems to be moving in slow motion; the passing wind that is blowing your hair, the hem of your cloak that is floating around your ankles, even the sway of the high grass around you.
As he slowly eliminates the distance between the two of you, he raises his head, and his face comes to sight. Under his gaze, your heart dips. Your skin grows warm, and you suddenly feel weak on the knees that you don’t dare making any effort to move, even if your heart yearns to be closer to him. 
He continues to walk closer, still with his eyes locked on you. Unlike you, who is watching him with wide, astonished eyes, he looks calm, knowing, as if he has already expected to see you today before you even knew that you would end up in this place. 
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he is standing right before you. Wearing a warm smile on his face, he instantly takes your breath away. While the deep gaze that he gives you draws delicate flutters inside your chest. 
“Min Yoongi.” 
A gasp follows as his name slips out of your lips. Hearing you calling his name, his smile widens, and it snaps you out of your stupor, helping you realise that this is real. That this is not another dream that haunts you in the nightfall. He isn’t just a mirage, welcoming you in a foreign land while you are in dire need of having a companion to make you feel less lonely. 
“I told you that we’ll be seeing each other again,” Yoongi says with the same deep voice that whispers to you at night in your slumber. The same deep voice that he gave you that night when you parted ways back at Narlès. 
“Welcome to Grimm, little dove. I’ve been waiting for you.” 
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— © 2024 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.
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esther-dot · 4 months
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Ten years ago, the Others were defeated, the Starks took back the North, the Targaryens reclaimed the Iron Throne, and the Old Gods transformed Sansa Stark into a dread and dangerous beast. Now, winter is coming, the beast remains, and the family would really like Sansa to be a full time human again.
The Beast, the Beauty, and the Bastard 3k
It is a reworking of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, but with a bit of a twist. Hope you enjoy!
Certain As the Sun 22k, incomplete
Sansa is bright, beautiful, and out of place in her little town. After her father is captured in a forgotten castle, she moves to take his place with the cursed prince.
Gifset by @dcbicki and Gifset by @yenstarkofrivia
Rapunzel
From Tower to Tower 10k incomplete
Locked away in a tower for eighteen years by a witch claiming to be her Mother, long-haired Sansa seeks freedom and a chance to regain her crown as Princess of the kingdom. But the tower is high as she has no means to get down, aside from her incredibly long hair, and no guarantee of safety in the outside world she has been warned about. One night, when the witch is out, and a thief who climbs the tower seeking refuge happens upon her, she stuns herself by taking a chance and asking him to help her escape. Assuring him that she will have all charges against him dropped when he returns her to her rightful parents, she embarks on a series of first discoveries with her new bandit friend Jon.
I'll not be climbin' up, I'll only be calling good morning 13k @violetcoloredglasses
Princess Sansa, the rightful queen, has been trapped in a tower by her usurping step-mother for nigh on three years now. Between the benevolent interference of a local woods-witch, the seemingly random appearance of a dashing young man on a horse, and a magical book that Sansa uses to turn a man into a crow, she may have found a way to change her stars.
flower shaped heart 25k, incomplete @missfaber
Alayne Stone has lived her whole life in her hidden tower, forbidden by Mother to leave. But she yearns for an adventure like the ones in the songs, so when a man named Jon Snow crashes into her tower and into her life, she seizes the chance. They travel to King's Landing where the floating lanterns shine each year on her nameday. The new world is exciting and frightening, but Jon Snow is there to guide her every step. He is not nearly as terrible as Mother said men are, though the rest of the world might be. Danger, betrayals, and lies form the steps of their journey as Alayne uncovers terrible secrets. corresponding moodboard
Let Down Your Red Hair .6k
A Jonsa Rapunzel story told in verse. With her father beheaded and her brother marching against the king, the last thing Sansa expects is for her hair to never stop growing. She is soon locked away in the tallest tower of the Red Keep, withdrawn from court as the War of the Five Kings rages on. Elsewhere, rumors of her magical hair have spread to the Wildlings, who see her fiery strands as their last hope against the coming winter.
Tangled edit by @kitten1618x, Tangled edit by @queen-sans-in-the-north, Tangled edit by @sardoniyx
Tangled gifset by @dcbicki
Sleeping Beauty
La Belle au bois dormant 4k
When The North celebrates the birth of Lady Sansa, all the realm is invited to celebrate with them. Each Lady of a Great House bestows a gift upon the little lady, including Cersei Lannister, whose presence at the celebration is both unexpected and unnerving.
Once upon a Dream 1k by @azulaahai
Sansa is under a curse - fallen into a magical sleep, she, according to the prophecy, can only be awoken by a kiss from a dragon. Arya rides south to ask for help from the dragon king Aegon, but the king’s grumpy half brother Jon might prove to be an obstacle.
Visions are Seldom All They Seem 14k
Sansa Stark is sure her life is a great song. She's a beautiful princess. She's been cursed. And the only way it will be broken is to sleep for a hundred years and be awoken by true love's kiss, given by a king's son. She's more then happy to prick her finger if it means getting her happily ever after with a handsome prince all the sooner. But a hundred years is a long time. To be fair to Sansa, Jon did not realize how long it would be either.
Sleeping Beauty Gifset
East of the Sun and West of the Moon
you are my sun, my moon (and all of my stars) 133k
When the white wolf came, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to give him his eldest daughter. Eddard Stark had grown up on legends of wolves, on the stories of bargains made by the First Men, on the knowledge of the price that he and his family might one day be forced to pay.  His father had explained the reason their house had taken a wolf as its heraldry and “Winter is Coming” as its motto, a reminder of a promise to honor, a recognition of a debt owed that would need, one day, to be paid. Ned had breathed a sigh of relief when his sister’s twentieth winter arrived and the beast had not. And he had watched the dawn sky for the first signs of the snow that would mark that his daughter, too, might also be spared, might escape the fate that had been handed down by their ancestors. But no man could be so lucky.  Sansa, too, had been born with the North in her blood, had been raised on the stories of white wolves, had lived her life with the knowledge that one might come for her.
this is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty 22k by @dialux
“I fell,” Sansa says softly. “I flew.” [When a strange, hooded man appears out of nowhere, demanding a woman in return for keeping the Others and dead out of Westeros, Sansa goes with him. It’s the best and worst decision of her life.]
PRE CANON - WESTERN - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6
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avalentina · 2 months
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My newest fic, this one will most likely end up being published as a series. For now it is in my Harry Styles page on my Masterlist. I'm not sure how long it will be, and I'm still working on the story itself so it might be a bit before I post more, but the poll showed that about 2/3 of you wanted it now. So without further ado ...
Word count: 4,074
Warnings: bits of anxiety, depression, feeling overwhelmed; Robin Twist's death, grief; unnamed douchebags who want you for your money and title
Noble!Harry (Peerage!Harry) x Princess!Y/N
Note: This story features certain words in multiple languages mainly traditional Chinese, but I have put the English word or phrase in parentheses directly after the translated word or phrase.
Ex: Mǔqīn (Mother)
The Princess's Lover
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Zero: Enchanted Love
(any and all pictures are not mine, all I do is collage them, pictures of Harry are a reference for his appearance during the specific moment, all other pictures are only for the purpose of an outfit/hairstyle/accessory, Y/N can look however you would like her to)
I remember the day as though it was just yesterday. Hard to believe it was closer to five years ago now.
(FLASHBACK)
I was at yet another ball, sometimes it feels like my parents, the King and Queen of MiraZhou, host one every week. I'm 19 year old Princess Y/N, the only girl to graduate from my private high school without ever being kissed. I've had a few offers for courtship, none of which I've accepted, all of them just a family's desperate attempt to increase their wealth, status, and favor in the eyes of my parents. I'm being the perfect princess, as I usually tend to be. I've never found anything I wanted to rebel for, I mean I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have more choice in my life, but I guess you could say I'm terrified to actually find out what that would really entail.
This ball tonight was a masquerade, not that it actually made a difference in my case, seeing as I’m stuck wearing a tiara. The one I'm wearing may be my second favorite tiara, and my favorite formal tiara, but it does a wonderful job at making it known exactly who I am. For that reason, I've actually been trying to avoid talking to anyone at tonight’s ball.
It’s not until I’m summoned to my parents’ side for the formal ‘thank you for hosting’ part of the night that my care for this particular event heightens. My family knows everyone in our court based on their voices alone. As a family of four gets to the front of the line. I recognize the voices as Duke Desmond, Duchess Anne, and Lady Gemma of Duchy Holmeshire, but it’s their son that I can’t say I’m familiar with. As they make their approach, I catch eyes with him, the soft green of them is mesmerizing, I feel as though I could get lost in them and just be happy.
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“And I see Lord Harry has returned from University, Cambridge in England correct?” My father asks Lord Harry directly.
“Yes, your majesty, uh sir.” Lord Harry replies, fumbling his words slightly probably to do with being away for so long, but he has an english accent that he must’ve developed during his time abroad, and it definitely suits him well.
“It’s good to have you back in MiraZhou Lord Harry.” My mother says, offering him a gracious smile. “I don’t believe you’ve formally met Princess Y/N?” she adds.
“I have not, It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, your highness.” Harry says to me as we make eye contact again and he does another short bow.
I can’t help the wide smile that appears on my face as I return the introduction. “Likewise Lord Harry,” I say and offer him my hand to kiss. A gesture I don’t give out lightly, and you can tell that by the tiny gasp that slips out of my mother’s mouth before she stifles it, and the way Duchess Anne’s smile grows a tad bit wider.
As the Styles family of Holmeshire takes their leave so the next group of nobles can greet us, Harry and I caught eyes one more time and I mouthed silently ‘bye’ with yet another wide smile.
After the “thank you’s” were over, my mother and father turned to each other. I heard my mother tell my father, “I’ll invite them to the palace for dinner one day next week.” I smiled to myself and excused myself for a brief restroom break, that I spent staring at where Harry had kissed my hand, remembering the softness of his lips, and how I really hope he didn’t have any other potential matches. Harry and I didn’t get another chance to talk that night, but we always seemed to be catching each other’s eyes, even from across the large ballroom.
“Y/N, darling, the Duke and Duchess of Holmeshire will be joining us for dinner tomorrow night.” My mother said at breakfast that following Tuesday morning. My attention perked up at that.
“Are Lady Gemma and Lord Harry joining them?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Not this time, but they both will be joining their parents here for dinner on Thursday night.” She said with a smile that I returned. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up about a courtship dear. Tomorrow night will allow your father and I to find out about Lord Harry’s current status, and any potential matches he may already have.”
“I know Mǔqīn (Mother), thank you, and I apologize for my obvious reaction, I’ll work on those some more.” I say, apologizing.
“Xiǎo jiāhuo (little one), we're happy you're actually excited about a possible courtship. I saw the way you lit up that night, it reminded me of how happy the first few conversations I had with your mother made me. Which is why you, Lizabeth, and Helena will be having dinner in the slumber party suite you used to enjoy. That way we can shield you from whatever potential hurt there may possibly be.” Father adds to mother's comment.
“And darling, your expressions are wonderful, a princess should not be void of emotion, nor always show indifference, your emotion shows your honesty in that feeling and that is what makes you an amazing princess. Your manners and etiquette are exactly where they should be. True feeling is just as important as manners and etiquette. Now run along, you have classes to get to.” Mother finishes out our conversation. I love attending University, it's the only time I'm allowed to wear jogger pants and hoodies in public. With no makeup or tiara or heeled shoes. I am intentionally supposed to look unimportant, because it does help me blend in a little bit more and instead of eight guards I only have three, all dressed down to appear as students as well.
My midnight violet Lamborghini centenario topless with ‘gongzhu (princess)’ as the license plate is the closest resemblance to royalty I get. After my classes for the day are done, Creyton, who is my lead guard, and I head to my favorite nearby pizza truck for a slice each before we return to the palace. Our usual nearby chess table is taken today and when I look again, it's none other than Lord Harry and a friend of his playing while enjoying a slice as well.
I elect to take the table next to them which happens to be open. As Creyton and I begin our setup and start talking, Harry turns to me, having probably recognized my voice.
“Your highness, what brings you out into the city today?” He asks quietly, careful to avoid drawing attention to me. He turns to Creyton and offers a handshake.
“I attend university in the city, so classes, but my lead guard, Creyton here, and I usually stop for a slice or two and a few plays on a chessboard before heading back.” I say with a small smile.
“We really should be going Y/N.” Creyton comments, now that I've been ‘recognized’ we have to head straight back or risk breaking protocol, and I like having Creyton around too much to let him get fired for something as simple as a protocol violation.
“I'll see you at dinner on Thursday night H.” I say to him, not wanting to compromise his lunch either. With that I head back to my car. Creyton follows me closely and we met up with the other two members of my security team. They share a very brief ten to fifteen second report before we get into the cars and head back to the palace.
“Princess, you know you're not supposed to talk to anyone besides me during that time, and you're definitely not allowed to advertise my name and who I am.” Creyton says to me during the quiet drive back to the palace.
“I know, I'm sorry Creyton, I wasn't expecting Lord Harry to be there, let alone at our usual table. It won't happen again, and I fully understand any repercussions that arise.
Lizabeth and Helena were not the best of distraction that night. Especially considering all they talked about was Lord Harry's return from England, and how attractive he is.
“Ladies, please, his parents are downstairs having dinner with my parents.” I say aloud and both girls turn to me.
“He's here? Lord Harry is here? Y/N please you have to introduce us.” Lizabeth practically begs.
“He, is not here, just his parents, and I will consider introducing you after they find out if he's available for a match. And if he is, I've pretty much already got dibs, I hope. Did you two miss the candids of him kissing my hand and the wide, stupid smile on my face.”
“Oh my God, Y/N has a crush! It's about time.” Lizabeth squeals.
“And on that note, we promise to back off, but if he has any extremely attractive friends please promise to introduce us.” Helena states and I smile.
“I know he has at least one semi-attractive friend. But he definitely wasn't from here. His accent sounded way too Irish.” I said and they both just looked at me. “I’ll look into it, I promise, just not right now.” They both grumbled a bit, but agreed.
It was late Thursday morning when my mother and father both entered the study I use for my schoolwork. I have three different 20 page essays due next week so I decided to have one of the kitchen staff bring breakfast to my study. I just finished finalizing and submitting one, and was polishing the second when they knocked. I closed my laptop so I wouldn’t be distracted by my essay while they told me whatever it is they have to say.
“Look at you, working hard on your economics degree.” Father said, smiling proudly.
“But that’s not why we’re here Damien.” Mother interrupts before he can continue on that line of topic further. “We’re here because we thought you might want to know more about Lord Harry Styles before dinner tonight.” She continued.
“He is not currently courting anyone, and Duchess Anne mentioned that he asked her to help him get up to speed on where you’re at and what has been keeping you occupied lately.” Father said and I legit squealed. It felt like hundreds of thousands of butterflies were dancing in my stomach. “We figured that would be your reaction and wanted to make sure you had ample time to put your finest princess foot forward for dinner tonight. We’ve arranged a walk through the rose garden for the two of you before dinner starts. Lord Harry will be here at four, and dinner is at six.” He finished saying.
“So in girl terms, you might want to start getting ready now.” Mother added with a smile and I quickly excused myself and hugged them both before taking off towards my rooms at nearly a full sprint.
“Mel, Marie, Helga!” I hollered into the staff door from my entry room. Mel and Marie are my new ladies maids and Helga is assisting them in learning everything before she officially retires next month. The girls tie half of my hair up into a braid and a bun, and then curl the remaining pieces, I have a simple gold and diamond tiara, gold gladiator flats, and a one shoulder golden gown. I ended up on the gold because i knew it would reflect in the sun during our walk, and it’s also a color I’ve always loved wearing. Plus it’s proven to be a confidence booster, and I have a feeling i’m going to be in need of a lot of that tonight. Other than my title, I have no idea what I have going for me in regards to why I’d make a good match. Though I’d rather he like Y/N, rather than just Princess Y/N. I needed to be radiant tonight, for myself, although, who wouldn’t want to look golden?
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At exactly 3:56 pm I make my way towards the main palace entrance, it’s a solid five minute walk from my rooms, and it usually takes guests anywhere between fifty and seventy-five seconds to go from the drive, up the stairs, and finally step inside the doors. Which means that if I timed this correctly he should be just stepping inside the doors as I step off the last step to get to the entry foyer.
I maintain my normal pace and arrive to the front entry in exactly five minutes. However when I get there, Harry is already waiting for me in a mostly black suit, a bit of gold on the shirt, and a black suede hat.
“My apologies Lord Harry, it took a bit longer to get ready than I had anticipated.” I said to him as soon as I had made my approach.
“Well, it was well worth the minute long wait, you look radiant your highness.” He says back with a bow. “Shall we?” He suggests and holds his arm out for me to take.
“You’ll have 12 feet of privacy.” My mother informs us as I take his arm and we depart. I wave a small goodbye to my mother and father before turning all of my focus onto my walk with Harry.
“You’re going to have to guide me, I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea where we’re supposed to be going.” He says with a small chuckle.
“I suppose, though getting lost does sometimes lead to finding something unique, fascinating, and totally unexpected. A left at the spiral hedge just up ahead.” I say.
“That’s true, it’s an adventure, that much is for sure.” He replies with a smile.
We walk in silence for a minute or so as we enter the rose garden. He pauses just before the first fountain.
“Why me?” He asks a few seconds after we stopped. He’s staring into my eyes and I can’t help but stare back. “My mum told me that you have a habit of turning down courtships, and being very selective about who you let kiss your hand, so why let me? I mean you could have your choice of princes from distant lands, lords with so much more wealth, and fame than myself, the male heirs of duchies that make mine look infintesimal.”
“I hope this isn’t awkward of me to say but to be honest, the first time we caught each other’s eyes, I felt like I could be lost in the soft green of them for eons and be happy for each second of that time. That’s not a feeling i’ve ever had before.” I say, he smiles and the way it lights up his entire being is pure magic. I can’t help but smile too. “It’s actually why I wore gold today, I knew I would struggle to say what I wanted to…”
“And you needed the confidence boost?” He finished my exact thought. I nodded and he smiled again. “Me too, I knew I would need it to even manage to say a word to you.” He continued as we started walking again. “I can't help but feel leagues below you.”
The conversation flowed so easily from there, it was one of the easiest conversations I've ever had. We talked about university, our degrees, our families, our childhoods, my dogs, our favorite books, movies, shows, anything and everything. As we approached the entrance again he paused one more time.
“I’d like to have another outing with you soon, and I also want to aopolgize for making you violate protocol in the park the other day.” He says to me, and I have never met someone who means everything so genuinely, who is so kind hearted, and it just feels almost right to be around him.
“I’d like that as well, and as far as the other day is concerned, that is my fault, I know not to engage with the public while undercover like that, I couldn’t stop myself though, because it was you and I wanted to have a conversation with you.” I say back, desperately hoping it’s not too much.
“May I?” he asks and begins to reach for my hand. I gladly let him take it and press his soft lips to it once again. I feel the blush rising in my cheeks, and I smile as he offers me his arm once again. We make our return in silence, just sharing smiles with each other.
Harry and I had about two outings each week for the next couple of months, but he still hadn’t asked for permission to court me. It was beginning to stress me out to the point where my parents took us down to one outing every other week. We would text in between, but I was still terrified that he would never ask me, that he didn’t see in me what I saw in him. The every other week outings turned into two outings over a three month period, the texts had stopped, and I was afraid that I was going to have to accept a courtship out of obligation rather than want. It might sound weird, but after almost seven months of knowing Lord Harry Styles, I was in love with him. I was in love with someone who didn’t even want to court me.
The Styles family joined us for dinner on a Monday night, and I was to tell Harry that a courtship was no longer an option, I was to be courting another Lord within the week. I was at least happy my parents agreed to let me tell him privately with a chaperone just twenty feet away.
When they arrived that night, something felt different between all of them, something had happened to them. I was dressed in a ruby red and gold Qipao with a gold plated ruby and diamond tiara, my hair was pulled back into a woven ponytail style with curls for volume. Harry was in all black except for his shoes which were a camel color, and his long hair was also pulled back. It was the first time I had seen it that way, and it was definitely doing something for me, no matter how much I wished it hadn’t. When he finally removed his sunglasses for dinner, I had initially wondered why he was wearing them in the first place, but I saw firsthand why, when he politely removed them before dinner. His normally bright, soft green eyes were slightly puffy, he had definitely been crying.
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Dinner was terribly quiet, no one felt like talking, Harry seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact with me and it felt like everything was seriously ending. I excused myself for a few moments which I used to try and compose myself, what I was about to do was beginning to feel overwhelming and almost painful. As I went to make my return, Harry was already waiting for me in the rose parlor as my family called it. It looked out to the rose garden and the vases were filled with roses of all colors.
“Harry? Did something happen? Your entire family was quiet during dinner, it worries me.” I asked him quietly.
“Yes, I’m not sure how much you actually know, but my parents aren’t actually together. My mum maintained her title when they split just because of how loved she was by the people of Holmeshire, your parents actually had to approve it. I was only seven when they split, and have maintained a relationship with both of them, my mother moreso though. She has had two relationships since, one which none of us speak to anymore, and the other, Robin, he passed from cancer a little over three months ago. It was getting progressively worse and I just knew I needed to be there for my mum, which is why I stopped texting you, and why it was hard to find time to see you. You have to believe me when I say I wanted to see you, Robin was a good man, he made sure I had good values, and taught me that it’s actually ok for a man to cry.” Harry explains to me, I just sit and listen quietly, knowing he just needs to get all of this out. “My mum has been trying to slowly reconnect herself back to my father over the past six weeks and while it is definitely an adjustment for all of us, I want to start doing things for myself again, rather than just doing things for my family, I want to get back to spending more time with you.” He finishes speaking, and the tears I have been trying to force down, overflow.
“Harry, we can’t, my parents are expecting me to start pursuing other potential matches at tomorrow night’s ball. I’m supposed to tell you that,” I cry while trying to explain it all to him. Harry being the gentle and beautiful soul he is, uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. I take a few deep breaths before continuing, “Harry I’m to tell you that courtship is no longer an option for us, I’m meant to tell you goodbye, and it breaks my heart to say that to you. I… I need to go.” I say and attempt to rush out but Harry stops me with one word, “wait.”
“Y/N it’s not tomorrow yet, let me try one thing.” He says and steps closer to me.
“Harry, we shouldn’t, I can’t, you can’t do anything Harry, our chaperone is right there, just twenty feet away, and my father…”
“Relax, I’m not going to do anything like that, I want to ask for permission to court you in front of everyone, tonight.” He says with a smile.
“I suppose it’s worth a try, I don’t want to say goodbye to you Har.” I say softly.
“Then it’s settled, and we’re doing this now.” He offers me his arm and I take it, hoping it won’t be the last time.
When we get back to the dinner parlor where everyone else is, still sitting in silence. Harry grabs their attention immediately.
“Excuse me your majesties, Princess Y/N has just informed me of everything, and it upsets me greatly, especially because with my family’s recent loss of Robin, I needed to take time to put them first, and put their well being above my own, even though I would have much rather been spending that time with her highness. Which is why since it’s not tomorrow yet, I’d like to ask you for your formal permission to begin a courtship with her highness Princess Y/N.” Harry announces.
“I suppose you are correct Lord Harry, it is not tomorrow yet, and I suppose…” my father begins, turning to look at my mother, who nods at him, before continuing. “I suppose that my wife and I can excuse your recent absence and forgive you for upsetting our daughter.” he wraps up.
“And as long as it’s what the Princess wants…” My mother picks up and looks at me, I nod eagerly, a wide, bright smile returning to my face for the first time in months.
“It is, it’s everything I want.” I say happily.
“Then you have our permission, and our blessing to court Princess Y/N.” My father announces. I’m just so happy that I was wrong about Harry not wanting me, I hug him. He’s surprised at first, but hugs me back almost immediately. It’s the best feeling in the entire world, to be in his strong arms, I'm impossibly happy.
“Okay, that’s long enough.” My mother says as my father wraps an arm around her waist.
“Sorry mother,” I say, breaking apart from Harry. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it though.
The conversation for the night livens up after that. Harry and I are allowed to sit next to each other on one of the couches. We’re holding both of each other’s hands and whispering to each other for the entire rest of the hour. Just before we go our separate ways for the night he whispers the best phrase in the entire world to me.
He simply says, “I love you,” squeezes my hands again, kisses them both, and heads towards the Velychnyy (Majestic) Suite.
Hope you enjoyed!
As a quick reminder as of 1/17/24, I'm still working on this story, I don't want to post any of it until I'm finished writing it (mostly potential format changes) so please be patient with me and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future The Princess's Lover (TPL) posts by commenting below!
-Ava
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dragonwritersblog · 3 months
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Royally Screwed!
Read on AO3
1/2/3/4/5
Hey guys! Just in case, I might not be able to update as frequently as I usually do since college is starting back up but I'll try and get a chapter up at least every two Wednesdays! I hope that's okay with you guys! Anyways, without further delay, here is chapter 3! Let me know in the replies if you catch any of the references I put in!!!
3. Soldier, Poet, King
“He’s not at his lessons! He’s not in his room! No one has seen him Kinger!” Queenie cried, clutching her robe worriedly.
“Don’t worry my dear,” Kinger pressed both his hands to his wife’s shoulders, “He couldn’t have gone far.”
He had said that to his wife a few moments ago. Apparently Jax was playing around with the children of the other lords and ladies that had visited the castle, only to disappear after giving one of them a nasty scratch across their face. The child had wailed, saying that Jax had attacked them out of nowhere, but Kinger had a feeling that there was a bit more to the story than what was already told. He was familiar with how some nobles raised their children, and this child in particular came from a family that was full of nothing but spoiled snobs.
And so he was out in the garden, coming across a giant oak tree with a small wooden fort built atop of it. Jax’s treehouse.
Kinger took a hold of the ladder that was attached to the trunk, making his way up and through the hole in the middle of the floor. He found who he was looking for, a small six-year-old rabbit with frustrated tears staining the fur his cheeks as he clutched something in his hands.
“There you are,” Kinger spoke gently, alerting his son of his presence, his little ears shooting up as he glared at the intruder. “Everyone has been wondering where you went, your mother was worried sick.”
Jax’s ears drooped, he didn’t mean to make his mother so upset. He rubbed his cheek on his sleeve, ridding any tears that were still marked upon his face.
Kinger climbed out of the hole, making his way over to the boy and sitting down next to him. “I was told that you scratched one of the noble’s children,” Kinger said, watching as the boy paled with fear. “While I’m not pleased with an outburst like that, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and ask why you did it. I know you wouldn’t have done that unprovoked,” he patted the top of his son’s head comfortingly, Jax leaning into the touch. “What happened Jax?”
The boy turned to his father, his face growing anxious before opening his hand, revealing the head of a little chipmunk fast asleep in his purple palms. “They tried to squish it with a stick,” Jax mumbled, “They said that it was like me, a nobody trespassing onto royal grounds. It was just trying to get some food.”
Kinger felt his heart sink. Of course it was a comment about Jax being an orphan. It wasn’t the first time that he had been bullied for not being blood related to him and Queenie, even those who weren’t children had picked on him for his humble beginnings. Yes while both he and his wife were able to have children, the two had heard of Jax’s birth parents passing away from an uncontrollable illness, leaving the poor baby to fend for himself. He and Queenie immediately took him in as their own, raising and teaching him everything he needed to know about the kingdom. Unfortunately it seemed that the nobles weren’t so happy about their choice and had resorted on taking it out on the poor boy instead.
“Well then, they are forbidden to step one foot into this castle,” Kinger declared, his mind already made up on the matter, “They have no right to treat you or the poor critter so horribly.”
“But they’re right,” Jax whimpered, looking away. “I don’t belong here. No matter what I do, everybody knows that I’m not a true royal.”
“That’s not true!” Kinger interrupted, taking both of his son’s cheeks in his hands. “You might not share our blood, but you are still our son. Your mother and I love you so much, you are part of our family and that makes you a truer royal than any of the nobles could ever dream to be. You have the heart of a king Jax, never forget that.”
Jax gave his father a watery smile, the latter wiping away his tears. The little chipmunk squeaked in the child’s hands, the king and prince looking down at it. “I think he’s feeling better now,” Kinger gestured to the rodent, “It’s time for him to go.”
“But…but he’s my friend!” Jax exclaimed, clutching it tighter, “He has to stay with me.”
“He has a life and a family out there Jax,” Kinger told his son, “I know you care about him, after what he went through, but its because of that care you have for this critter that you must let him go. He might be gone, but the bond that you’ve formed will be a part of you for years to come.”
Jax let out a small whimper, stroking the back of the small creature. His father was right, the chipmunk probably had its own ‘Queenie’ and ‘Kinger’ to go back to as well. Jax stood, walking over to the window of the treehouse and opening his hands, releasing the rodent. The chipmunk looked back at Jax one last time, nuzzling his finger. The child laughed at the sensation, before waving to the chipmunk as it ran back into the gardens.
Kinger got up and went over to Jax, ruffling his son’s ears, the child laughing louder. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he said to child, Jax wrapped his arms around his father, squeezing him tight. The king chuckled, returning the hug with the same pressure his son was giving him. “And who knows, maybe you’ll get a pet of your own one day. Perhaps a dog or a hamster or a cat-”
“What?! Ew! No way!” Jax stuck out his tongue at that, “Cats are the worst animals in the world!”
“I don’t know,” Kinger shrugged teasingly, “When you’re older you end up with your own feline companion?”
“Never!” Jax blew a raspberry, The king guffawed, deciding to put an end to his teasing, much to his son’s mercy.
“Alright, alright. Let’s head back inside, your mother is still looking for you,” Kinger was a bout to turn and head to the exit, only for Jax to grab his father’s hand with a desperate look upon the child’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“I…I’m not ready to go back inside yet,” Jax admitted, his ears drooping onto his back. “Can we play a game? Please! Just one game and then we’ll go inside.”
Kinger’s heart sank. Jax was so scared to go inside in case any of those horrible people were there. How could any of the nobles say such vile things? Not just about his son, but about a child! If they had a problem, then the cowards should take it up with Kinger himself instead of a boy still navigating the ways of the world. He would deal with them later – along with some colourful language he had planned for them – as for now, his son was more important.
“Alright,” Kinger nodded, “One game and then we’ll find your mother. The last thing we want is face her worried anger.”
Jax shuddered, he knew all too well what his mother was like when she was overcome with so much panic to the point of frustration. He nodded quickly as he and his father sat down.
“Now then, what would you like to play?” Kinger asked.
Jax hummed in thought, putting a finger to his chin as the ideas ran through his mind, “How about…three rounds of rock, paper, scissors!”
“That sounds like a great idea!” Kinger exclaimed happily.
The two put their fists out, slapping it against the palms of their other hand, with Kinger pulling his hand out in a scissor motion while Jax made a rock shape with his. “Yes!” the child cheered happily, “I won the first round!”
“You’re starting to get better than me,” Kinger told him, “Ready for the next round?”
“Yeah!” Jax grinned.
Kinger prepared himself “Okay, one, two-”   
“What are you two doing?!” Queenie cried out, poking her head through the hole of the floor, making both father and son squeak in terror. “Do you two know how long you have been gone for?! I was worried sick!”
“Apologies darling,” Kinger chuckled nervously, “We just wanted to play a quick game.”
“I’m sorry mama,” Jax brought his knees to his chest, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Queenie sighed, shaking her head as she opened up her arms for her son, with Jax immediately running to his mother and hugging her. He had always been a ‘mama’s boy’ ever since he was a baby. “Just keep track of time, okay dear?” she whispered soothing, rubbing Jax’s back.
“Yes mama,” Jax nodded against her shoulder.
Queenie gave her a husband a glare, “That goes for you too Kinger.”
“Y-yes darling,” Kinger rubbed the back of his head at his wife’s icy gaze, “Again, my apologies.”
The queen was unable to hide a smile at her husband’s awkwardness, eventually giving in and climbing up into the treehouse as well. And so, that was how the family spent their afternoon that day, with them talking with one another about anything and everything, to Kinger and Queenie telling Jax stories of adventurers and swashbuckling pirates, to the parents even indulging with their son’s games of pretend as he recreated those stories with nothing but a stick for a sword and a wooden board as a shield.
The rest of the nobles would probably scoff at them acting like this, but they didn’t care. This was their family, even if they were royalty, and nobody could take that away from them.
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Sixteen Years Later
Jax paced up and down the hall, wringing his hands to help calm his nerves. Never in his life had he been so nervous about anything. Why may you ask? Pomni was finally deemed well enough to get out of bed, and today he was going to give her a tour of the castle. He needed this to be perfect, the poor girl had already been through enough, he just wanted the day to be about her. To make sure she was happy. Her smile left a handprint on his heart, and he couldn’t get it off. He would do anything to see it again.
Motley was perched upon his shoulder, with the prince subconsciously reaching up to run his hand over the kitten’s head as he purred into Jax’s cheek. He would never admit it, but Motley was a really good comfort to him these days. Apparently, the little kitten knew exactly what to do to calm him, it was annoying how easily attached Jax had become with him.
He took a deep breath, he could do this. He walked down the hall until he stopped in front of the room Pomni was staying in, he wrung his hands one more time before gently knocking on the door three times.
“I’ll be one second!” he heard her voice ring out.
“Take your time!” Jax answered back, using the extra seconds to relax himself more. A few moments passed until the click of the doorknob made him jump. He brushed back the fur atop of his head, breathe Jax, remember, be suave.
That all went down the drain the moment Pomni stepped out. Jax was sure his heart had just skipped a beat. Pomni wore a teal-coloured dress, small flowers embroidered onto the fabric. The dress hung slightly off her shoulders with ruffles around her collarbones, the sleeves were long and ended at her wrists but had puffs at the elbows. Around her waist was a matching corset of the same colour, and the layered skirt ended by her ankles. She’s so…so… Jax’s face softened.
Pomni blushed as his eyes focused on her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Her hair might be short but she had managed to take two sections and braid it into a crown around her head. “W-why are you staring?” she stuttered slightly.
“Because you’re beautiful,” he answered honestly. He felt a twinge of pride as her face reddened more, contrasting against her dress. Easy Jax, remember, you don’t want to scare her off. When his father had informed him of Kaufmo and the circus’ story, the urge to protect the jester only grew stronger. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm her.
“Thank you,” she smiled, “I don’t think I’ve worn anything this nice in my life.”
“Trust me, you look radiant in that dress,” Jax told her.
Pomni had to physically fight back the blush she felt rising to her cheeks. If someone were to tell her a few months ago that she would be flustered at the compliments Prince Jax of Laphria would give her, she would have laughed in their face, repulsed by the notion that the reckless prince would give her any sort of attention. But now, after he saved her life and seeing this new side of him, it made her all the more curious to see what else she could find out about him. Dare she say it, she was excited to have his company for today.
“So, tell me, what’s up first for our tour?” she asked, going over to him and picking up Motley from his shoulders and cradling him in her arms.
Jax smirked, only holding out his hand, “You’ll just have to wait and see little lady.”
Pomni raised a brow, her lips matching his expression as she took his hand, “Then hurry up and show me.”
He let out a laugh, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he started taking her down the hall. Maybe it was the excitement of the whole thing, but their feet started to quicken, and soon they were jogging and jogging turned to running, poor Motley’s eyes going wide at the sudden increase of speed. They couldn’t stop laughing, not knowing why. In fact, now that they thought about it, this was possibly the first time each of them laughed truly and freely – with no malice or fear attached. It was…nice.
Soon, Jax was leading her into the gardens, past the bushes filled with berries and the colourful shrubbery of flowers. Their steps slowed as they halted near a large oak tree, Pomni looked up to see a wooden house, shaded among the emerald leaves atop of it. Jax let go of her hand, taking a hold of the ladder against the trunk as he began to climb up. Pomni placed Motley on her shoulders, taking the initiative to follow him.
Once Jax made it into the building, he sat next to the hole in the floor and helped pull Pomni up once she neared the top. Pomni sat next to him, letting her eyes roam the place, the subtle breeze of the wind brushing her cheeks as the sun shone upon her. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Jax grinned, “AKA, my childhood treehouse.”
Pomni marvelled at her surroundings, letting Motley down so he could explore the area as well, “This is adorable!”
“Yeah,” Jax suddenly became anxious, rubbing the back of his neck. “I knew that when I gave you all those gems and coins it made you a little uncomfortable, so I wanted to start with something small with our tour so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed.”
Pomni’s mouth gaped a bit. He could have taken her to the most grand, lavish places in the whole palace, yet he chose the most earnest part of his childhood to show her to make sure she was comfortable. She didn’t know whether to awe at the innocence of the act, or gratitude that he was putting her first. Either way, she never felt happier towards the prince than she did now. “Thank you Jax,” she replied honestly. She secretly ate up the way that she managed to make him blush this time.
“Y-yes, well,” he stuttered, “I do happen to be pretty smart.”
“On certain occasions,” she snickered.
“Hey!” he gawked at her, though the smile on his face proved that he was anything but mad. He shook his head fondly, a warmth spread through him at the fact that she didn’t feel anything negative to him while speaking with him. He was getting to know her without his reputation getting in the way of that. “I always loved coming up here as a kid. It was a safe space for me when I wanted to get away from everybody.”
Pomni tilted her head, inching closer to him. Jax was really hoping she wouldn’t see his tail wagging at the close proximity. “Safe space?” she asked, though after hearing that awful group of low lives from the last show, she had a faint idea of what he was talking about.
“Yeah,” he sighed, his ears dropping slightly. “Not everyone was happy about the fact that my parents decided to adopt me when they were able to have children. I was born in a poorer part of the kingdom, so everyone kinda knew what my rank was before I was royalty. There was just so many people who literally hated me for even breathing, it wasn’t like I asked to be born into poverty or for my parents to adopt me. So whenever I needed a break from it all, I would come up here with my parents. We’d always come up with new games in here and turn the treehouse into whatever adventure we chose. Whether it be a pirate ship and I was the captain, or my own castle where I was helping save the princess, it was the best memories I had ever made.”
“That sounds remarkable,” Pomni said, unable to tear her gaze away from the prince’s face. He looked so…happy. Not the cruel smirks that she had come to expect, but genuine happiness that came from reflecting on those memories.
“It really was,” he agreed, his heart fluttering as flashes of him as a boy going to save his mother from his ‘castle’ treehouse with his father as a dragon. That little boy had changed so much, and he would admit it, it wasn’t for the better. “When I started to get older, the comments just started to get worse. My parents started to ban people from the castle who didn’t relent, but they knew that they held importance since most of them owned some of the lands in the kingdom, so they had to be invited to events sometimes to help discuss shit that’s happening. No matter what I did, I was never good enough. It didn’t matter how much I smiled or bowed or trained myself to prove that I wanna gonna be the best heir for this kingdom, as long as I didn’t share royal blood, they already made up their minds about me. So, I decided to become what they wanted me to be. A reckless troublemaker who liked to prank others and throw the most destructive parties. For a while, I started to like it, I liked that for once I was the once who held the cards. But I knew that whoever I invited just used me to get into these parties, to indulge in luxury while talking behind my back. And seeing how disappointed my parents were…all I did was ruin things for everyone.”
He stopped, looking up at Pomni to see tears running down her cheeks as Motley tried to purr to comfort her. “I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, “I shouldn’t have gone as long as I did, I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
“No, no, its not your fault,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes, “It was never your fault. You know that right?” She wasn’t talking about the crying, she was talking about his childhood. Jax gave her a half-hearted shrug. “I’m serious. I’ve had my fair share of people in my life who would rather project their insecurities onto those who are vulnerable than decide to be a decent human being. No, you shouldn’t have done the things you do now that you’re grown, but don’t blame your child self simply for existing.”
Jax didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or do both. For years he kept everything in, too afraid to touch the fear and guilt that crept up his spine every day. But the way Pomni spoke about it, with such ease and clarity. It was almost like she had walked similarly in his steps before. He was about to ask her how she knew all this when her hand reached forward to his face. He held his breath, fighting the urge to hammer his foot against the wooden floor with excitement. Her fingers brushed the fur on his cheeks, when she pulled back his heartbeat slowed when he realised the tips of her fingers were wet. Had he really been crying? “Wow,” he wiped any leftover wetness away, “Sorry, kinda pathetic.”
“No,” Pomni shook her head softly, a smile gracing her features, “No it’s not.” This girl. She never ceased to amaze him. “So, tell me. What other games did you and your parents get up to in here?”
Jax laughed wetly before going onto to tell her how he and his father would hide up here from his mother whenever they would steal cookies from the kitchen. Pomni chortled at the image of a small rabbit and the king hiding up in this very treehouse from the disgruntled queen while huddling with a jar of cookies.
It wasn’t until it was near noon that the two realised they had been outside for so long, just talking and enjoying one another’s company. They went inside eventually when Motley started meowing his head off for some food. Jax was confident in saying that he had more fun with Pomni in those couple of hours than all of his parties he had ever thrown. Truly, that girl had bewitched him.
.
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“This is incredible!” Pomni beamed.
The next day, Jax had decided to take Pomni to visit the library in the castle. She had seemed particularly excited about that, he remembered that it was rare for her to see a proper library in her lifetime, and he hoped to change that.
“Just imagine! So many genres from all over the world in one place!” she gasped as she ran her hands along the spines of the books, Motley upon her shoulders once again. The kitten had become quite fond of Pomni during the jester’s stay at the castle. “Can you believe how amazing that is?!”
Jax chuckled as he kept up with her, “I guess I’ve never seen it that way”. But it made sense, his family could afford every single book known to man. Whether it was the most groundbreaking adventure novel in existence, or a simple cookbook, there was without a doubt that the royal library had something for everyone. Even the largest book shop in all the lands wouldn’t be able to do that.  
“It makes me want to cry with joy,” she admitted, picking up a paperback and examining it. “I know it seems silly, but you have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Oh?” Jax’s face became serious, moving towards her. What did this girl go through to make her say that? “Why is that?”
Pomni shifted in her place, worry spreading across her features.
“Please, don’t tell me if it makes you uncomfortable,” Jax reassured her, “You have no obligation to tell me.”
“No, it’s alright,” she smiled slightly. “I’ve never been able to see many libraries in my lifetime, but I will always remember the first time Kaufmo took me to see one. We were allowed to roam one of the villages we were performing in, so he let me see my first ever library. We spent all day in there reading anything we could find. I remember him telling me the importance of books. Each one of them holds a lesson and history for anyone who needs to learn it. No matter how small it is, one book can hold great meaning for a person. It’s why we must cherish them and the morals that they hold.”
She hugged the book tighter in her hold, Motley rubbing his head against her neck as he purred. Pomni giggled and placed a little kiss on the tip of his nose.
Jax inhaled deeply. So many overwhelming feelings were coming afloat after Pomni’s words, he stepped away for a moment to collect himself.
Pomni’s face fell, fearing that she crossed the line, “Your highness, I didn’t mean to offend you-”
“You didn’t!” Jax whipped round quickly, making sure that Pomni knew she wasn’t at fault. “Its just…never in all my lessons and teachings did I feel like I have learned more than what you have told me at this moment. You hold so much passion and joy within your knowledge than any of my tutors have given me. You have more conviction in one memory that I have had within my entire being. You’re remarkable Pomni, and I hope that I can see the world through your eyes.”
Pomni bit her lip as his words repeated through her head like a mantra. No one had ever said something so earnest as he had, and she had least expected it to come from the ‘reckless Prince Jax’ of Laphria. “Well, it isn’t so hard,” Pomni teased, “After all, you wouldn’t have saved my life if you didn’t.”
Did he?
Did someone like him, who spent most of his life building up this reputation to be arrogant and self-centred, deserve a second chance to see the world as she did? Then again, he didn’t know what she went through, but he could see that behind her smile, sass and glam that there was a girl who was deeply hurting yet still chose kindness every single time. He would let her tell him, of course, but one way another he knew he had to find out. “I appreciate your faith in me little lady,” he smirked, deciding to press an arm against the bookshelf as he peered down at her. Was it a risk? Yes. But the way her breath hitched and eyes widened made it oh so incredibly worth it. “You sure it’s not mistake?”
Pomni gulped, ridding any type of flustering she felt flutter in her heart as she pushed him back with a smirk, “I happen to be very good at reading people. So no, I don’t think it’s a mistake.”
He nearly choked on his own spit at the sudden turn in dynamic. With a hum, she walked away, feeling his eyes on her as she did so while opening the book in her hands.
Jax gave his cheeks a tap, snapping himself out of it while a lovesick grin stretched on his lips as he chased after her. This girl had his heart in the palm of her hand and she didn’t even realise it. In all honesty, as long as Pomni had it, Jax didn’t want it back.
.
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.
Pomni stretched her arms above her head after she finished warming herself up, wearing a simple cotton shirt with spaghetti straps and dark pink leotard shorts. A few guards had escorted her trapeze equipment as per her request, she wanted to continue practising even if there weren’t any upcoming shows. It gave her peace of mind after the chaos of her attempted kidnapping. Plus, she liked doing her tricks. Apart from her music, she was proud of this being one of her talents.
Her aerial silks, trapeze bars and hoops had been moved into a spare ballroom within the castle along with everyone else’s equipment. She had waited until the rest of the circus cast had finished with their own rehearsals, feeling more at ease when she practised alone.
She wrapped a practise rope around her wrist, preparing to start when she heard a voice echoing around the room.
“Is this what you do on a daily basis?” Jax asked, curiosity and amazement lacing his tone.
Pomni smiled, she was actually really happy whenever he found the time to visit her. Sometimes his duties caught up to him, which left days that they were unable to spend time together. Wait, did she really admit that she liked spending time with Jax? “Not on a daily basis,” she said, turning to face him as he walked over to meet her, “Just whenever I feel the need to practice.”
“Looks simple enough, bet I could do it easily,” Jax knew he was bragging, but he made sure that there wasn’t any mocking in his voice. It seemed Pomni knew that as well with the way she cheekily raised her eyebrow.
“Oh, it looks that simple huh?” she grinned.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’d be able to nail it in ten seconds.”
Pomni hummed as though she were in thought, raising her hand and curling her finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. Jax knew he struck something there as his pulse began to hammer hard throughout his veins. Nevertheless, he did as he was told. She took his hand, he nearly flushed at her sudden boldness. She was bringing him closer to her…until she pulled on the rope, ripping her hand away and sending her soaring up to the darkened roof.
Jax blinked for a second, trying to regain his bearings after the trick she just pulled that sneaky little minx!
He heard a throat clear, making him look up as he saw Pomni descending down from the ceiling, her arms gripping onto the bottom of a trapeze ring as she slowly lowered back onto the ground. “Word of advice,” she spoke as her feet touched the ground, “Don’t immediately throw yourself into the deep end if you barely know how to keep your head above water.”
Jax was unable to tear his eyes away. It was just one simple act from her and yet he was attached to her like a dog on a leash. He had fallen and fallen hard. He ran a hand over the top of his fur on his head, smoothing it back as he grinned at her, “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then little lady?”
He watched as she froze in place while he restrained himself to laugh at her adorable yet slightly angry reaction. That nickname always struck a nerve with her. Pomni’s lips twisted as though she were in thought, “Hmm, okay. If you can handle it.”
“Oh I can handle it little lady,” he chuckled, “Come on, show me what you got.”
“Okay, put your hands on my waist,” she said simply.
Jax had never been more thankful for his fur covering his cheeks, hiding the redness rising to his skin, “I-uh-um-what?!”
“I said, put your hands on my waist,” she stated as if she weren’t suggesting that he touched her with her wearing what was basically close to undergarments. “Unless you’re not able to do this?”
“Well I didn’t say that,” he told her, “I just…don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Hey,” Pomni let go of the hoop for a moment, taking both of his hands in her. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if I wasn’t okay with you putting your hands on me. If you’re not comfortable with it though then that’s absolutely fine. But don’t worry, I trust you.”
She trusts me. When was the last time someone trusted him? It sent a rush through him and gave him a determination that he never had in his life before. A determination to earn and keep that trust that had been provided for him.
“So, as long as you’re okay with it,” she continued, guiding his hands to both sides of her hips, “Put your hands on my waist.”
Jax nodded, pressing his hands firmly to her sides. Taking a hold of the metal hoop again, she swung it in a circle around the two of them before it went back behind her again. “Lift me up,” she instructed him. Without missing a beat, Jax did as he was told, lifting her onto the hoop while Pomni held on with one arm, using her spare hand to stretch out her body into a line while her legs gripped the other end of the hoop.
She brought her free arm back in, grabbing the top of the hoop and pulled herself into a sitting position. “Hold onto the bar,” she said next, with Jax firmly holding the hoop in place as her legs reached up and wrapped themselves around the top of the hoop, pulling her upside down. “Now here’s where you need to pay attention. This thing is gonna start to pull itself up once you sit down. All you gotta do is hold on and I’ll tell you what to do. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” Jax could only stare in awe at how her body twisted and moulded itself into whatever way Pomni wanted. It was simply miraculous to experience.
“Good,” she smiled. Jax carefully lowered himself onto the hoop next to the upside-down jester, gripping it tighter once he started to feel it rise. “Easy, just hold on until I say otherwise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Jax gave her a nervous laugh, “Should I be saying that to you?”
“Let’s just call this getting even then,” she smiled, “Now hang on there for a second.”
Before he could ask what she meant by that, she swung herself upright and pulled herself to sit on top of the hoop. He gasped when she jumped, about to go after her before she grabbed on a nearby rope. His breath hitched as he watched her swing round the ballroom, her eyes closed in a content bliss as if this whole practice brought her to a peaceful state of mind.
She swung back towards Jax again, letting go off the rope and grabbing the bottom of the hoop, pulling them back onto the ground again. Jax slid off the hoop, going closer to Pomni. “Not bad for your first try,” she mused, “Wanna go again?”
Jax wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other hand to grab the bottom of the hoop. The two shared a grin as the hoop ascended upwards, Jax holding tight to both of them to make sure that they wouldn’t fall. Pomni gulped at the strength he displayed, it certainly wasn’t anything to sneeze at. Wrapping her arm around his waist and joining his other hand on the hoop with hers this time, she started to pick up momentum, making the duo spin faster and faster.
Grinning, Jax jumped down, letting Pomni spin round the ballroom again. “Not bad for a first timer huh?!” he called out to her.
“I have to agree, you’re a little rusty but you’ve got potential,” she giggled back.
An idea popped into his head. Jax ran to the walls of the ballroom while Pomni raised a brow as he started to scale them. As she swung round to him, he jumped off and grabbed the hoop, circling his arm around her waist again. The two laughed freely, without a single care as they flew around the room.
Eventually, they had slowed to a stop, gently pressing their feet against the marbled floor as they panted from the thrill and exhilaration. “That was…wow,” Jax gasped.
“Yeah,” Pomni breathed, “Not bad for a beginner.”
Jax brushed a stray hair away from her face, Pomni watching his finger trailing her cheek as he did so. “Um, I should get back to my duties soon,” he said, “But thank you for the lesson…I had fun.”
“Y-you’re welcome,” Pomni stuttered as he drew his hand back.
They paused, a silent tension growing between them. Pomni was praying that he didn’t hear her heart thunder in her chest, not knowing that Jax was doing the same - practically begging to whatever entity was out there that she couldn’t hear his wagging tail rustling under his clothes. “Good day Pomni,” Jax bowed, before leaving the ballroom.
Pomni lifted her hand to where his was on her cheek. Perhaps it was the rush of the whole practice, but part of her wished that he kept his hand there just a little bit longer.
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If there was one thing that Pomni was grateful for during her and her family’s stay in the castle, it had to be the opportunity to sleep in. While being a performer, there was always a strict schedule that she had to follow. From when she had to wake up, to the endless hours of training, to when she had to eat and eventually find the time to get a full eight hours of sleep without her busy schedule being interrupted. So it was a small blessing that she got to enjoy the longer hours tangled in the soft sheets of her temporary bed.
When she eventually got out of bed and pulled on her teal dress did she hear the commotion going on outside. She walked over to her window and pulled open the curtains, immediately beaming when she saw what was going on.
In the castle courtyard, everyone from the village was setting up stalls and games. From stands with every type of fruit and dessert, to activities such as ring tossing and painting, there seemed to be something for everybody to enjoy. With an excited squeal, she slipped on a pair of sandals and ran out of her room. She wanted to find out what was going on!
She tore down the hallway, her smile splitting across her face. She didn’t notice the figure in front of her until she collided with it. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Woah little lady! It’s okay, no harm done!” Jax’s calm voice made her sigh with relief, a sentence she never believed would come to mind.
“Jax,” she brushed herself off before realising the feline companion resting on his shoulders. “Motley!” she picked up the kitten and cradled him in her arms, rubbing her face against his.
Jax huffed I am not jealous of a kitten, I am not jealous of a kitten, I am not jealous of a kitten, I am not jealous of a-
“-So! Do you have any idea of what’s going on outside?” Pomni’s question pulled him out of his internal ramblings as she blinked up at him.
“Oh, that?” he said, “You’re gonna love this.” He gestured his head to the nearby window, encouraging her to follow him towards the glass. “Every year, after our annual harvest, we throw a festival for the village within the castle courtyard. Since it was an event created by my father, royals can attend if they want to, but all of the other nobles are banned from going. I mean, after the shit they’ve said about me, the last thing the villagers need is the upper crust sneering down at them after all their work.”
“And you? Do you go?” Pomni asked as she peered down at the setup from down below.
“Ah…I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to go down there,” Jax admitted, “Like I said, the last thing they need is for the upper crust to mess everything up. And this is coming from the guy who set off fireworks in the village.”
Pomni’s face fell slightly. While she still wasn’t pleased with that stunt he pulled, she still recognised that he was making an effort to not be that person anymore. Even is she didn’t know the catalyst for that change, it was still change. “Well, don’t mess things up then,” she stated, taking his hand, “Just come down and stick with me, I’ll make sure we have lots of fun.”
“Ya sure?” he gave her a nervous tight-lipped smile, “The village ain’t a big fan of me, for good reason.”
“Like I said, stick with me and they’ll see that you’re not so bad,” she said, “I mean, you might still be incredibly annoying but I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Wow! Thanks for that Pomni!” he drawled sarcastically, though he was unable to hide the grin he wore as she laughed at his disgruntled face.
“You’re welcome,” she chortled, Motley mewling along with her as if he was laughing at Jax in his way cat-like way. “Now come on! I don’t want to waste the day!”
She grabbed his hand, this time she was the one dragging him along, running down the hallways. Jax laughed at her excitement, feeling his own arise as well.
But he had to admit, when he went out into the sun rays beaming down on his and hearing the thrilled chatter of the villagers, he was actually glad that he agreed to come out.
There were a few stares, and a few anxious whispers from the villagers who worried that he had a trick up his sleeve. Part of him was tempted to run back inside, to hide from the wondering eyes staring at him. But Pomni’s hand on his helped him feel a bit braver, it made him want to seize the day and lower his walls a little bit. Yeah, he could do this.
“Ragatha!” Pomni squealed, lifting Motley to rest on her shoulder the moment she saw her friend. Jax watched her as she ran up to the ragdoll, hugging her ash their cheeks pressed together tightly. “Look at all this!”
“Its incredible isn’t it!” Ragatha pressed a chaste kiss to the jester’s head, she let her go once the ragdoll saw Pomni’s rabbit companion. “What is he doing here?”
“Well nice to see you too,” Jax rolled his eyes.
“Easy you two,” Pomni glared at them before turning back to Ragatha, “I wanted him to join me today, so please be nice.”
“Him? Isn’t he the same guy that made you say that ‘men are the worst thing in this realm’ to us?” Ragatha crossed her arms.
“Oh? Is that so?” Jax raised a teasing brow.
“W-well, I’m not wrong about that!” Pomni interjected, “But Jax is…not as bad as I thought. I still think men are awful though!”
“I don’t trust him,” Ragatha scowled at the prince, half tempted to pull out the hidden butcher knife she had attached to her thigh holster.
“Ragatha!” Pomni groaned, “He saved my life! And I’ve been spending time with him for the past few days to get to know him better! It’s okay!”
“I promise,” Jax spoke, turning both ladies’ attention to him. “I have nothing but good intentions. I know that it’s a little hard for you to warm up to me, but I swear that I want to keep Pomni safe as much as you do.”
That seemed to convince the ragdoll a tiny bit, judging by how her eyes softened slightly. Though they still held a coldness to them, “Okay…just remember, Moon and I are right here if you need us Pomni, so don’t hesitate to come to us if you need anything.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Pomni assured her, whirling round to grab Jax’s hand again. “Now come on you! They’re making crepes at that stall over there and I wanna try one!”
And so, Jax was dragged away once again, leaving the ragdoll to watch them as they drifted away. Moon and Sun walked up to her, the former placing a hand on her shoulder, “Still unsure about the prince?”
“Pomni says that he’s nice,” Ragatha told her, “I just don’t know what to think.”
“I think we should trust Pomni,” Sun happily suggested, holding an ice cream in his hand. “If she can go from despising his guts to being his friend then there must be something good about him. Almost as good as this ice cream!” He took another bite, savouring the sweet chocolaty taste.
Ragatha and Moon chuckled at this antics. “Maybe you’re right,” Ragatha nodded, “Maybe he is changing.”
“At least he wants to make an effort to do so,” Moon mused, “Unlike…”
Ragatha and Sun brought the woman in for a hug, Moon didn’t need to say his name for them to know who she was referring to.
“It’s okay sis,” Sun whispered, “You didn’t know.”
“Exactly,” Ragatha agreed, “Besides, you were too good for him anyway.”
Moon let out a shaky breath as she melted into their embrace. She might not have the romance she always dreamed off, but to be honest, she found something even better.
.
.
.
Pomni kept dragging Jax around each stall and game she could find once they had finished their crepes. She had bought a few strawberries, cherishing each one she bit into and shared with Jax. She cheered when she won the ring toss and had even beat Jax in a few rounds. And she even reunited with the girls who gave her the flower crown and sat down for them to put flowers in her hair.
Jax watched on fondly as they weaved each one into her hair while holding onto Motley, until one of the little girls stood up and walked over to him, shyly clasping her hands together. “Um, Prince Jax?” she meekly said, “I have a few flowers for you too. You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to! I just thought you would like some.”
She held up a few simple purple roses wound together into a crown. Pomni’s favourite flower he recalled. He looked at the little girl, he remembered how crestfallen she and her friend were when he insulted their flower crown for Pomni a while back. He was so wrapped up in his own plans with trying to woo her than he put down the hard work of literal children! Children of his kingdom. He kneeled down gently took the rose crown in his hand and inspected it, even if it was a small gesture he had to attempt to right his wrong – the first of many but it still counted. “I think it’s perfect,” he grinned, placing it on his head, “Its better than my real crown!”
The little girl beamed, “You’re welcome your highness!” She gave him a quick curtsy before running back over to her friend and Pomni. Jax laughed as he stood back up, he had to admit, the crown was pretty good.
But it was in no comparison to how Pomni looked. Tied within her braid and short hair were small daises, white carnations, specks of baby’s breath, lavender and a few small pink roses. She gave the girls a twirl, the skirt of her dress fluttering like the petals in her hair. “Thank you!” she cooed, her smile wide.
Jax’s eyes widened, her beauty striking him in his poor heart. Never before had he seen a being as beautiful as Pomni. Motley gave him a teasing mewl, he swore that the little shit was mocking him, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up fish breath.”
Pomni skipped over to him, “So, what do you think?”
“I’m dead,” he dramatically placed a hand to his chest, “You killed me with how pretty you are little lady.”
Pomni rolled her eyes at his antics, “Sure princey. Now come on! I wanna go try some cheese!”
This time, Jax was fully prepared to be dragged away again, not minding a single bit.
For the next few hours, that was how their day was spent. They made sure to try every single piece of food from the stalls, bought a few souvenirs from sellers and played every single game that was available (with Jax losing to Pomni every single time of course). One by one, each villager could see a difference within the prince, and the elders of the kingdom felt a sense of déjà vu with the way he looked at Pomni. It was similar to how a young Kinger acted when he saw Queenie for the first time.
Soon enough, the sun began to set and the stars began to rise. Tables were pulled out, hot food and drink were served, and a small space was left for anyone who wanted to dance to the band playing on stage. Pomni and Jax had finished their meals a while ago – a simple dish of beef, bread and mashed potatoes – before ordering two pints of beer and playing a game of rock, paper, scissors while Motley licked at the empty plates. Jax had just lost another round, making him groan in defeat.
“Yes! I have won once again!” Pomni cheered, “That means that you have to give me another confession.”
“What else do I have to confess, I’ve already told you how much of a gem you are to the mind’s eye,” Jax smirked, winking at her.
“Seriously?” Pomni deadpanned, taking another sip of her beer, “Come on. Tell me something, anything! No matter how ridiculous it is.”
Jax sighed, there was one thing that came to mind. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the alcohol, but the next thing that came out of his mouth was, “I don’t want to be king.”
Pomni placed down her mug, her face serious and concerned.
“All my life,” Jax started, “I had everyone tell me who or what I would be. I’ve been confined to my position without having a chance to choose who I want to be. Even my parents, bless their hearts, already have my future planned in their heads. I just…I don’t want to be tied to this role. And even when I tried to make it my own, I had everyone else hate me for it.”
“But you wouldn’t be tied to it. Your parents are rulers, but I’m sure that didn’t stop them exploring who they want to be, and I’m sure that won’t stop you to,” Pomni told him. “And you’ll be in a position where you can change things for the better, to make things better for other people who have less. Just think of the wonderful things you could accomplish!”
Jax nodded slowly, processing what she said. He would be able to do that, he could lead his kingdom with the kindness and greatness the way Pomni viewed the world. “But what if its too late for me?” he asked, “What if I messed things up too much for people to see me that way?”
“Trust me, from my experience, its never too late to try and change how people view you,” Pomni said. “For better or worse, for what role you play, its always up to you with how you want to be viewed.”
Jax titled his head, Motley doing the same once he finished licking the plates, “What do you mean by that?”
Pomni paled, she said too much “My apologies your highness, I didn’t mean to overshare!”   
“Hey, hey,” he gently took her hands into his. “You have no reason to apologize, and besides, I thought I told you to call me Jax.” He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily. Pomni shook her head as a faint smile graced her features, “There we go, better?” Pomni nodded. “Good. You don’t need to tell me anything if you’re not ready to do so, okay?”
Pomni tapped her nails on her mug. Apart from her family in the circus, she hadn’t shared her story to anyone. But with Jax, there was a security to him. He made her feel warm, content…safe. She never got that from any other stranger she met, even if they were the kindest folks she would ever come across, it paled in comparison to what Jax gave her in the past few days. It was peculiar, yet nice. Pomni took a breath, gripping Jax’s hand tighter and looked him in the eyes. She could do this.
“I don’t have many memories before I joined the circus,” Pomni said, “But I remember my Ma’s voice. I remember how gentle her voice was when she sang to me, and how she stroked my hair while I fell asleep. I would sing with her every time until I was too tired, and I remember how she would kiss my forehead the moment I shut my eyes. It was so peaceful…but one day, all of that ended.
I woke up to rubble falling on me while I was still in bed. I kept screaming out for my Ma, but I didn’t know that she was already gone at the time. I don’t know if it was a miracle, but because I was stuck for so long, nobody was able to find me. I was under there for hours, and all that was left of my village was destroyed. Including my family.
The reason why we were raided? It’s because of this,” she pulled her hands away for a moment, cupping them as the same blue mist from her performance hovered above them. “It’s not all a trick of the mind like cards and such. Everyone in my village was able to do this, to master the ability of manipulation, teleportation and telekinesis.”
She picked a daisy from her hair, “From disguising one thing to look a certain way.” She waved her hand, the mist making the daisy change to an orchid then back to its original form. “To making it go one place to another.” The mist formed again, with the daisy disappearing from her hand and reappearing in her other one. “To making it float,” once again, with the flick of the wrist, the daisy hovered a few inches off her hand by its own accord and floated back down again. “Everyone in my village was able to do it. That’s why they wanted us gone.”
Her face fell, but she continued her story nonetheless, “I remember screaming for my Ma once I got out, but deep down I knew that her soul was already within the heavens. So, with no home or no family, I left. I wandered for days, sore and hungry, until someone grabbed me and dragged me away. The next thing I knew I was in a circus tent, with Caine standing in front of me. He overheard that a survivor from my village managed to get out and wanted to use them…use me for his show. And since no five-year-old had the strength to escape, I was trapped there ever since.”
She wiped a few stray tears, she was stronger than this. She shouldn’t be getting emotional over this, it happened years ago! I won’t cry, I won’t cry, I won’t cry-
Jax’s warm hands encasing hers broke her out of her internal mantra, his eyes kind and focused. “I’m here,” he whispered, “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
Pomni sniffed, letting the tears trail down her cheeks as she continued. “Every moment of my life spent there was hell. If I wasn’t sleeping, I was either training or performing with little to no breaks. But what made it worse was what Caine did. He didn’t just want to use my powers for the circus, but for himself too. Ever since he heard of the last survivor, he was given an amulet to absorb my powers and give them to him, so that he was able to do the things that I could do. It hurt, every single time. I didn’t even feel like a person anymore, just his sparkly little possession. And don’t get me wrong, I love my abilities! Its one of the last things I have from my people, but the fact that Caine kept using it for his own benefit made me feel dirty. It’s not his, its mine! He’s stealing my powers! He’s stealing me!” She choked on a cry at the last part, Jax gripped her hands tighter as Motley rubbed his head against her arm, both of them silently comforting her.
Pomni bit back a few tears, calming slightly when the thought of Kaufmo entered her mind. “If it wasn’t for Kaufmo, I don’t think I would have stayed sane,” she admitted. “He made sure that I was who I wanted to be, not Caine’s doll, not the circus jester. My Pa made sure that I and everyone else knew that I was Pomni. When he taught me to play guitar and helped me with my singing, because of that I felt closer to my Ma. I didn’t feel lost or scared, I felt like me. My music is important to me, it’s who I am! It’s the part of me that I can show people so they know what I’m like on the inside, so they can hear my story, my hopes, my dreams.”
“So when I told you that I wanted to know you because of your song…” Jax trailed off.
“Yeah,” Pomni nodded, “That was how I knew you were genuine. You didn’t see the performance, you heard my voice and wanted to know my story. No one ever gave me that. My family in the circus did, obviously. But outside of that, you are the only person who knew my music showed who I really was…thank you Jax.”
Before he could even process anything else, she leaned over across the table and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Even Motley seemed surprised, his little eyes widening. “Y-you’re w-welcome P-Pomni,” he stammered, “W-wow! I-is it-t w-warm out h-here or i-i-is it just-t m-me?”
Pomni hide a snicker behind her hand, it might be mean but she wanted to get a little bit of revenge for all of his teasing. Her eyes drifted over to the band on stage, they were taking a break and sipping some water to sooth their throats. But what really caught her attention was the lone guitar on stage. “I really want to play that right now,” she said aloud, many ideas of what to sing coming to mind right now.
Jax followed her gaze to the guitar and looked back to her, “Then go for it.”
“Huh?” Pomni whipped her head back round to it.
“I’m serious,” Jax said, “Show them the version of you that you showed me. Let them see how amazing you are.”
Pomni looked back to the guitar again, “You think?”
“I do,” Jax smiled, “And if it goes wrong you can blame me.”
Her lips quirked up into a grin, “I think I’m gonna do it.”
She placed down her mug and went over to the stage, she anxiously cleared her throat as the band leader turned to her, “Hi, um, is it okay if I play something?”
“By all means,” the band leader welcomed her warmly onto the stage.
Pomni picked up the guitar, wrapping the strap over her shoulder and held the instrument in the correct position. Dread finally settled in. So many eyes on her, so many people. Yes she always sang in her performances, but that was when she was doing her tricks and trapeze. That was what the crowds enjoyed, could she really do this? Would they want to see this part of her? Would it be enough?
Her breath quickened and her hands trembled, until her eyes met Jax’s. The way he was looking at her, with so much faith and excitement for what she had to say. Her nerves slowed and she sighed deeply. She could do this.
Her fingers started strumming the strings, a merry little tune filling the air as she began to sing.   
There will come a soldier
Who carries a mighty sword
He will tear your city down
The band started to play along behind her, a few voices joining her.
Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord
He will tear your city down
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord
The nerves were fading, her confidence building as she continued, her voice ringing throughout the crowd as they awed at her beautiful voice.
There will come a poet
Whose weapon is His word
He will slay you with His tongue
Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord
He will slay you with His tongue
Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord
The audience whooped and cheered. From within the sea of faces, she could see Kaufmo with the rest of the circus crew, clapping along and showing his support. Pomni laughed, nodding back at him.
Gangle took Zooble’s hand, leading her to the dance floor along with the other villagers and the two began to dance along to Pomni’s song. Sun and Moon got up as well, Ragatha and Kaufmo following behind. One by one, more people from the crowds collected a partner and started to dance. Even the two girls from earlier took both of Jax’s hands in their own, respectively, leaving Motley behind on the table as he watched his master get dragged onto the dance floor with glee.
Pomni giggled as the prince began to dance along, but she was able to tell that he was having fun.
There will come a ruler
Whose brow is laid in thorn
Smeared with oil like David's boy
Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord
Smeared with oil like David's boy
Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord
He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai
Ohh
Pomni gave the guitar back to the original player, thanking them quickly before running onto the dance floor as they continued the song. She took the hands of another person, skipping and prancing along with the song.
Jax looked ahead and saw Pomni dancing. While the tear stains were still there on her cheeks, gone was the pain that she held from telling her story. Instead, he saw the smart, kind, witty girl who lived freely and for herself. The girl he fell in love with.
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh
The song began to pick up the pace, the dancing becoming faster and faster. No one could hold back their laughter and cheer, even Jax was unable to hold back the excited whoops from his throat the more he changed from partner to partner.
Pomni had her eyes closed, the bliss and liberty from the music letting her lead her steps. This was her. This was who she was. She never felt happier.
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh
The music stopped abruptly, Pomni opened her eyes to see who her last partner was that she collided with.
Jax.
The two panted for air, their hearts pounding from the dance and from…something else. Their smiles were starting to hurt their cheeks, but they didn’t care.
Everyone started to clap and cheer, it was another perfect festival that ended with another perfect dance. This time, it was led by a song that was performed by a wonderful singer.
Pomni rested her head on Jax’s chest, exhaustion catching up to her, “Thank you Jax…for everything.”
Jax’s tail was wagging, on full display for the rest of the kingdom to see. But he didn’t care. Seeing Pomni this happy and content was more than he could ever ask for. He rested his chin on her head, “You’re welcome Pomni.”
.
.
.
A mysterious man in red paced in his office, nursing a glass of whiskey in the shadows as one of his right-hand men looked on with worry and a little bit of fear. “They should have been back with news by now,” the red man growled.
“I’m sure they won’t take long sir,” the right-hand man assured him, trying to save himself from his boss’s wrath.
He nearly sighed with relief when a raider burst through the door, gasping for air and desperate to tell his story, “Sir! I’m sorry it took me so long, but Laphria guards were stronger than they looked-”
“I don’t want excuses,” The man in red murmured, “I want your report.”
“Right,” the raider straightened up, “We managed to get our hands on Pomni but…”
“But what!” the man in red snapped, making the raider gulped.
“B-but she regained some of her powers and tried to escape,” the raider explained, “One of our men hit her head and was then attacked by Prince Jax, who took her back to the castle.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you didn’t capture my jester?” the man in red mused.
“N-no sir,” the raider trembled.
The man in red hummed, before stepping out of the shadows wielding a dagger, stabbing the raider in the chest. He choked and spluttered as a terrifying pair of eyes stared down at him through a pair of teeth. Eventually the knife was pulled out of his chest, leaving him to bleed out on the floor.
The right-hand man could only look on in horror as the raider bled out to death, praying that he wasn’t next.
“No matter,” Caine murmured, sitting back down at his desk. “I can be patient. Soon their guard will be lowered enough and my possession will be back in my clutches soon. It’s only a matter of time before Pomni comes home.”
Song Credit: Solider, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos
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lady-raidia · 4 months
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Hi my fellow german ♡
If you're up to, I'd love to request a Gil-Galad x reader writing (: I'm so sad that there is still not much out there. Something fluffy like love at first sight or first kiss (or both haha)
Thank you so much in advance!♡
Hey there! 💗 I am so sorry that you had to wait such a long time for me to respond! :( I was suffering from a writers block and I couldn't write anything for months :'( But I am back and I am trying to catch up! I hope that you enjoy this One-Shot (or maybe two shot hehe) even though it ended up a little bit shorter than I wanted to. But I will try to write a part 2 for this one, so we can have more Gil-Galad content hehe. Again, I am so sorry that you had to wait for such a long time! And I am sorry if my english sounds weird in the story :o But please enjoy! 💗💗
FOREST HEART - GIL-GALAD IMAGINE
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Pairing: Gil-Galad x Reader
Summary: You are an old friend of Galadriel and visit her in Lindon, where you wander off into the forest. You just wanted to enjoy the nature but you found a hidden treasure that will change your life.
Warnings: None, just some Gil, snobby language and bad english.
Request Here / Masterlist
Nestled amidst ancient trees and shimmering waters, you have lived a life full of peace and harmony. You had chosen this life, far from Lindon, to escape the gossip and side-eyes you would get when passing by other elves who knew you were not like them. Your father was an elf, but your mother was of the race of men. She was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen but the fragility of a mortal life took her away from you. After her passing, your father followed her into death, since his heart couldn't bear the grief and loss it had suffered.
You grew up in a small cottage close to Lindon, the place your mother and her mother were born and raised. It was your sanctuary, your haven, and as a child, you thought Valinor must have looked exactly like your home. Even after your parents passed away you stayed at that small cottage to care for the garden your mother cherished so much.
Even though you lived your life far from others, you still had close friends you have known since childhood. One of them was Galadriel and you would refer to her as your best friend. You held her dear in your heart and even though you hadn't seen each other for centuries, you regularly wrote letters to each other. You would usually write about how your garden is growing and that the birds are nesting again, while Galadriel would entertain you with the adventures she had been on. (If you can call it an adventure. She is trying to hunt down orcs to find Sauron and with each letter you get from her it becomes apparent that she is slowly losing her mind. You are worried for your friend because she seems too fixated on Sauron being still alive.)
A couple of days ago you received an invitation to Lindon to celebrate Galadriel and her troop for „freeing the world of all evil“. You were happy to hear that her efforts to hunt down every orc are finally being acknowledged! And you wouldn’t be her friend if you wouldn’t tend that celebrations! So with a mix of excitement, worries and nostalgia you went on the journey towards Lindon.
When you arrived, Galadriel greeted you with open arms and a radiant smile on her face! It must have been decades the last time you have seen each other. But before you could talk about old memories and laugh about the shenanigans you did when you were children, she introduced you to Elrond, the herald of the High King. He offered to guide you around since Galadriel had business to do and while he was giving you a small history lesson that wasn’t really anticipating, he also warned you to not get too deep into the forest. For someone who doesn’t know the woods very well it is easy to get lost in them. And the last thing Elrond wants is to lose you and having Galadriel yelling at him for not paying attention. You had to promise to not go on your own and to always stay in the city. And you really wanted to keep that promise. You really did.
The days before the celebration you tried to spend as much time with Galadriel as possible. But she still had some duties she had to attend to, so she would usually leave you alone in the evening. It is your third evening here in Lindon and you already wish to be back at your small cottage. Elves aren’t a noisy folk but still it seemed like their voices were yelling at you. All the people, the talking, the faint music in the distance - you weren’t used to it, so for that moment it was just too much for you. You needed a moment of silence and since you arrived in Lindon it seemed like the trees were talking to you. You remembered the promise you’ve made and said to yourself that you would only walk for a bit - not too far off, so you can easily find a way back. Also, you have the senses of an elf, so nothing could go wrong.
With a sense of childlike wonder, you ventured off the path that was before you and headed straight into the woods. The forest with its towering trees, vibrant flowers and singing birds, mesmerized you and you have totally forgotten the words of Elrond. With each step you take, you get further away from the city but closer to the calmness of your soul.
Lost in the magic of the moment, you failed to notice the sun slowly going down and being replaced by a soft darkness.
„Beautiful isn’t it?“ Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence of the trees, dragging you back to reality. Startled, you turned to find a men standing in front of you with a gentle smile on his face. His presence was both mysterious and comforting. You have seen his face before, many years ago, but you can’t remember who he was. Maybe a friend of your father?
„Indeed. While the soil here might look like any other forest, it is made of hope and wishes from those who have walked here before us." You spoke softly while maintaining your gaze on the man in front of you.
He came a few steps closer to you with a light smile on his face. „It has been a long time since someone recognized Lindon's beauty. Too many became used to its sight and stopped wondering what miracles it might hold.“ You listened carefully to his words and nodded „But it seems you are not from Lindon. Lost, perhaps?“
„Galadriel is a friend of mine, and I am not lost. My feet tend to carry me places where my heart wants to go but my thoughts are too afraid of.“ The man before opened his mouth to share his thoughts with you but was interrupted by the voice of Galadriel who came running towards you.
„Y/N you shouldn’t be here!“ She looked at you and then made eye contact with the dark-haired elf in front of you. „I apologize! Y/N is a visitor and a friend of mine, my king.“ You nearly tripped over a root when you heard your friend address that man as „my king“. The reason his face was so familiar is because he is the High King of the Noldor, Gil-Galad.
Galadriel drags you away from him before you have a chance to speak, scolding you for being so careless. You apologized to her several times and felt that by not addressing him by his title, you had offended the king. In fact, he felt no offense at all. The thought of your conversation still lingered in his mind as he watched you and Galadriel walk away. Whenever his shoulders are unable to bear the weight of the crown, he retreats into the forest to enjoy the silence. Usually, the elves of Lindon don’t go that far into the woods so he can be on his own. But today, you were carried deeper into the woods by your own feet without a care in the world. For a while, Gil-Galad watched you admire the flowers and trees while the last light of the setting sun was reflected in your eyes. He was in awe and for the first time in his long life, he didn’t have the courage to speak. But when darkness slowly reached out, he talked to you and he was immediately enchanted by your voice and words. He always thought that he had lost his heart in the woods but it seemed that you found it. Now it is up to you if you want to claim it for yourself.
To be continued 💗
@fenharel-enaste @starlady66 (I am back, I hope it is okay I tagged you guys again! :) )
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georgieluz · 3 months
Text
HBOWAR OC MASTERLIST
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OLIVER HARDWICK
intelligence officer, easy company (band of brothers)
ship: lewis nixon | tag: #oc: oliver hardwick
"you'll never fumigate the demons, no matter how much you smoke"
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new yorker. former literature and latin student at university. mischievous. wealthy. playful. rakish, maybe even roguish, some might say, in a pretty boy kind of way. think: old money with a rebellious streak. massive ballrooms contrasted with secret parties in tiny apartments. flowing champagne. screaming drunkenly from the deck of a yacht. rage rage and more rage, so much rage. the subtle glare of disapproval from a calculating parent. a disdain for authority and taking orders. winter scarves in every colour, but especially red. kissing older men. dancing until you can't remember your family name. the simultaneous fascination and disappointment your friends and peers feel toward you. running away as a child and nobody even noticing you're gone. picking oranges in the mediterranean. freezing cold new york winters. spinning around in the rain. being too smart for your own good. self-sabotage. self-loathing. self-destruction.
playlist: tell me i'm an angel
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TOMMY MONET
private first class, easy company (band of brothers)
ship: joseph liebgott | tag: #oc: tommy monet
"the silence that you're hearing is turning into a deafening, painful, shameful roar"
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bostoner. from the wrong side of the tracks. barely got a high school diploma. former teenage nuisance. poet. fuelled by coffee and homeric similes. friends with every cat in the neighbourhood. talks to his cat badger more than other people. think: scrappy. argumentative. observant. smart but wishes he wasn't. hot black coffee running through his veins. flannel shirts. a backpack full of books. a hardshell exterior and deep, deep repression. running races down the railroad tracks until you're completely breathless. smoking because you don't know what else to do with your hands. irritable, but usually with a smile and a hefty dose of sarcasm. fuck the elite. no one can hurt me if they can't get near me. insecurities? what are those? who needs a father anyway.
playlist: let down and hanging around
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CHARLIE SCOTT
private first class, how company (the pacific)
ship: bill "hoosier" smith | tag: #oc: charlie scott
"come ease my slumber, sink me into sleep"
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mornings spent next to the river. cigarettes for breakfast. brushing the sand out of dark hair. journals filled to the brim. training as a car mechanic. hands coated with oil. overalls tied around your waist. a sarcasm-filled whisper in your ear. a hand gripping yours through the barrage of bombs every night. eyes searching for you as you cross every battlefield. dramatic readings of your stream of conscious poetry until something hits. adopting the dog that you found in the middle of battle. missing the diners you always claimed to hate. wanting nothing more than to run back to the mountains you hiked growing up. realising you never want to visit a beach again. longing for the quiet peacefulness of a lake.
playlist: i once warmed my hands
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RHYS LLEWYD
corpsman, king company (the pacific)
ship: eddie jones | tag: #oc: rhys llewyd
"torn down, full of aching, somehow our youth will take the blame"
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welsh born, new hampshire raised. gentle hands, sharp eyes. soft-spoken. welsh-lilted american accent. the messiest bedhead you'll ever see. enjoys watching people mispronounce his surname. touch-starved for something more than bleeding guts and bullet wounds. sage green and lavender. realising you never wanted to study medicine in the first place. cloudgazing. comic books shoved into pockets. an impeccable dancer who will never show it. can't handle his alcohol but drinks anyway. misses trees, and grass, and greenery. hands touching beneath the library table. a pile of books next to your bed. the scent of sugar and honey contrasted with the blood dripping from your hands.
playlist: fade me away
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MAX JACOBS
platoon scout sniper, bravo company (gen kill)
ship: brad colbert | tag: #oc: max jacobs
"there's nothing wrong with me, this is how i'm supposed to be, in a land of make believe, that don't believe in me"
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deadly aim, with a smile to match. skate parks and 7-11s. worn out chuck taylors. suburban fuckery. sneaking out of your bedroom window at 2am. driving out as far as you can because you've got nothing better to do. desperately wanting to escape your town at any cost. sony walkman cd player attached to your belt at all times. fuck the system (but you're in the system). laughing in the face of everything and anything. empty red bull cans littered across the room. kissing boys in empty car parks. getting your fists bloody when the homophobes arrive. taking on the world with nothing but bruised knees and a stick of gum.
playlist: and when we go, don't blame us
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MATTHEW "MATTY" CARTER
corporal, bravo company (gen kill)
ship: ray person | tag: #oc: matty carter
"tracksuits and red wine, movies for two, we'll take off our phones, and we'll turn off our shoes. we'll play nintendo, though i always lose, 'cause you watch the tv, while i'm watching you. dumb conversation, we lose track of time, have i told you lately, i'm grateful you're mine. there's nothing like doing nothing with you"
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missouri summers. friends who fall somewhere between platonic and something more. pizza nights. staying up until 4am playing uno. laughing so hard your ribs hurt. realising you're a little bit in love with your best friend. following him to the marine corps. losing far too much money playing pool. camping in the rain. smiles so wide. watching the lost boys so many times you can quote every line. sharing hoodies. the colour orange. instant messaging into the early hours. the sunrise laughing as you fall asleep. promises of running away together. fingers in soft wavy hair. ice cold lemonade. the ghost of a confession.
playlist: do you think of me?
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CALEB DAWSON
architecture student, hacker, archer (band of brothers zombie au)
ship: ron speirs | tag: #oc: caleb dawson
"yes, it's you i welcome death with, as the world caves in"
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sketching buildings from the window of hotel rooms. mugs of cold coffee left on every surface. counting to ten before you open a door. endless recurve vs compound pettiness. the fucking audacity of life. talking with your hands. sarcasm as a first language. stubborn and unyielding, but fiercely protective. clinging to a pencil and paper as a lifeline. realising it's easier to push your buttons than you thought. jokes. lots of jokes. witty one liners. deep, deep inner conflict. bitterness coating your tongue with every word. being suspicious of newcomers but bound to your own sense of loyalties and vulnerabilities. trying desperately to hide every aspect of your gentleness, but feeling it leak through in every moment. being ashamed of your dreams and ambitions. feeling the cracks break open every day, but bottling it up all the same. waiting alone in hotel rooms wondering if your dad will come back for you this time. being taught to hack at twelve years old. finally escaping the only life you've ever really known only to find that a virus outbreak has mutated and changed the world forever. unravelling dreams.
playlist: one wink at a time
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ARCHIE SULLIVAN
RAF pilot / lancaster bomber (masters of the air)
ship: bucky egan | tag: #oc: archie sullivan
"wild lovers never get the blues"
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flying too close to the moon, "you look pretty in blue", piles of unopened letters thrown in a corner, easy laughs, easier smiles, falling asleep on the wing of your plane, cycling to the pub with your best friend in the pouring rain, turning annoyance into endearment, a pint and a ginger beer please, escaping to the beaches of east anglia on a weekend pass, puppy dog eyes the size of jupiter, pettiness, so so much pettiness, challenging just about everyone you've ever met, thinking you might just be the greatest darts player in all of england, a good ol' dose of the great british repression, yet accidentally flirting with almost everyone you meet, running so far away from home that you ended up in the clouds
playlist: to the top of the big night sky
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if you want to read about the ocs from my hbo war f1 au please head over to this post. the ocs there are all platonic ocs, but have a lot of presence in the world and narrative, and if you'd like to see my ocs for top gun, then you can find them on my sideblog here
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oh-hell-help-me · 10 months
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Day 5: Blaze
They found the culprit eventually, after Mario arrived.
In fact, Luigi was sure that -had he not lead the investigation- Bowser would have disregarded his daily duties to smoke out the Koopa himself.
It turned out to be surprisingly easy.
It also turned out that Luigi.... might have made a bigger impression than he realized?
Like, at least a whole search party made up of vendors, Troopas, and the odd old Koopa ladies (who he once talked to about Koopa style crochet) had taken up the tracking while Luigi and his guards were busy, well... Busy.
In any case, the Koopa left a trail that was particularly messy and caught him before he left the Kingdom via airship.
None of them would explain why the Koopa was hauled to the castle with various injuries, but even Luigi could guess the answer to that -even if the gesture made him feel conflicted.
Is it bad to feel so much gratitude for this? To feel relieved that he meant something to other people?
To feel satisfaction as someone who hurt you refuses to look you in your direction?
He struggles to not acknowledge the part of him that makes him feel nauseous thinking out it- turns his attention towards the Koopa King as he sits on his throne amidst officials and common folk alike. It seems like they have gathered around for... whatever was going on, but the collective silence is deafening.
With his imposing bulk backlit by the lava wall, red eyes gleaming brighter than his scales, Bowser was a sight that had Luigi feel like he couldn't catch his breath.
His face was unreadable, with most of it shadowed, but there was something dangerous in his voice as he spoke.
"What is your name?"
"......Hackson." A jam to the back of his shell. "Sir." The Koopa spat out
Luigi couldn't see his brother from his seat in a makeshift wheelchair, but he could still hear Mario's teeth grind together. He could see Peach, perched next to him on a fancy chair, but the way her gloved hands clenched made him realize that she was just as angry.
By the subtle sound of claws on his stone armrests, Bowser may have felt the same.
"Well, Hackson." The behemoth's voice seemed to get deeper and raspier, something that made Luigi's spine stiffen. "Do you know why you are here?"
"Yes." The Koopa said curtly.
Red eyes narrowed. "Then you should be aware that you should choose your next words carefully." Smoke leaked from Bowser's maw, trailing his head as he leaned forward from his throne. "Why."
It was obviously as much a command as it was a question.
"I was getting rid of a problem you're too weak to get rid of."
Bowser seemed to almost lunge, baring his teeth into a snarl.
"YOU DARE-"
"I DARE ALRIGHT!" The Koopa didn't seem to register the way the crowd shifted away from him. "I DARE BECAUSE THAT-" He thrusts a claw at Luigi, who flinches into his seat- wincing as another panging sting raced from his stomach. "HUMAN AND EVERY OTHER SCALELESS-" he says something Luigi couldn't pronounce, but the way the Koopas around them acted told him enough. "-SHOULDN'T BE HERE! THEY SHOULD STILL BE RUNNING IN FEAR AS WE BURN THEM TO ASHES!"
Hackson seemed to be growing angrier, locking eyes with almost everyone present. "OUR WORKERS SHOULD STILL BE ABLE TO HAVE A ROOF OVER OUR HEADS! HAVE MORE THAN A DAMN MORSEL TO EAT! WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO PAY FOR YOUR FUCKUPS!"
There is a silence that followed, but Luigi could only focus on the sudden smell of sulfur and the way Hackson flinched as Bowser stood up.
"And what did you gain, hm?" The king's voice was almost soft, but the way started to step down from his throne... "A promotion? A medal?" The sulfur smell grew stronger. "Did you know what you've just done? What you almost did?"
The Koopa, Hackson, seemed to pale and freeze on the spot. He looked less sure of himself, but something seemed to have egged him on.
"I-I could have saved them -finished what we started!" He wasn't making sense- saved? "I WOULD STILL HAVE MY FATHER HERE!"
....
Gradually, the sulfur scent faded, but Bowser kept cold eyes locked on Hackson as he stared down on him.
"....Regardless of your reasons, you have committed a crime against both the Mushroom Kingdom and my Will." He took a step back, beckoning the Troopas to secure him again. "You will be placed in a holding cell, until mine and the Council's judgment will call upon you."
It seemed like that was that.
But then-
Hackson caught a glimpse of Luigi behind his king, his desperate eyes locking onto his before seeming to turning into bubbling anger- no-
Hate.
Luigi couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move when the Koopa lobbed out a fireball-
A hissing ROAR-
then bright, blistering heat came -cracking stone and sending waves of whipping air -nearly carrying his hat right off his head before he barely caught it against his head.
He couldn't tear his eyes from the sight- the sound -the smell---
He heard Hackson be burned alive.
He saw Mario -his brother, his fratello- take the fireball to his shoulder- crumbling against him in pain as Peach screamed-
He saw Bowser, fire highlighting him and his angry eyes-
-turn into regret, looking away even as he drew closer.
He was shivering, he knows he is in the way that Mario still tries to check him over -frantically looking him over even as Luigi stutters out protests because damnit Mario, you're the one hit with a fireball--!
How can he tell anyone that neither the Koopa's death nor his brother's injury wasn't the only reason he was shivering like a leaf? That it wasn't just fear that had left him otherwise mute as he and Mario were picked up by Bowser and carried away from the blaze?
That even after he heard those screams of agony, and smelt the charred meat of what used to be a living being, those encompassing arms- hot and firm with bumpy shield-hard scales- felt like the safest spot in the world?
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catofadifferentcolor · 5 months
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Terrible Fic Idea #71: The Night's Watch, but make it found family
Maester Aemon is perhaps my favorite character in ASOIAF. He could have been king. He could have lived a life of luxury as a prince in the south. He could easily have forsaken all his vows and risen to the most dizzying heights - and chose to remain sworn to guard the realm of men twice over as a maester of the Night's Watch.
So I thought: What would it take to give Maester Aemon the best possible ending?
Aka: The Maekar the Maester Fic
Just imagine it:
Everything follows canon - until the Greyjoy Rebellion, where Ned falls to a lucky crossbow bolt during the Siege of Pyke.
King Robert razes the castle in his fury, not bothering to evacuate the remaining Greyjoys or the common folk who took refuge in the castle. It is a massacre - but it puts the fear of god in the surviving Ironborn. The new Lord Reaper Rodrik Harlaw remains a faithful servant for all his days.
Back in Winterfell, 6-year-old Robb Stark is the new Lord Paramount of the North. His mother, Lady Catelyn, is his regent. And one of her first acts is to send her husband's bastard to the Wall. Which endears her to very few, as first graders have no place in a military organization even in Medieval times.
Benjen is away on a ranging at the time, so the Lord Commander entrusts young Jon's care to the only other man he can trust: Maester Aemon.
This works out better than anyone might have expected, because although Aemon is nearly 90 years old and has limited experience with children, the pair get on in a way that they really shouldn't given their vast difference in age and experience. But young Jon is bright and lively and curious, and Aemon has been lonely and lacking mental stimuli for most of his time at the Wall.
By the time Benjen returns from his ranging, the maester has already been dubbed Uncle Aemon and Benjen has to navigate co-parenting with a man who thinks teaching a young boy to stitch sword wounds is an appropriate learning activity.
(Benjen also has to navigate the urge to ride down to Winterfell and murder his brother's widow, and doesn't for the sole reason his nieces and nephews are too young to be orphaned.)
Jon grows up in the Night's Watch. He absorbs everything that there is to learn with the bright-eyed eagerness of a child - and though Jeor would hate to admit it, makes Castle Black a more enjoyable place to live. By age fourteen he can swing a sword, plan a ranging, sew a wound, cook a meal, repair a sword, patch a castle wall, chart the stars; track an animal, skin and butcher it, and name its bones afterwards; mix wildfire, and recite every piece of dragonlore he's ever learned - including a few slivers of knowledge that were normally only saved for dragonlords.
At fourteen he's allowed to make his Night's Watch vows.
The night before, Maester Aemon calls Jon into his chambers and tells him that could not be prouder of Jon if he were his own son.
Jon admits that he's wished many times over the years that Aemon was his father and considers him the father of his heart - more than Ned Stark, who he hardly remembers; more than Benjen, whose duties often keep him away; more than Jeor, who is kind but distant.
There are many tears and much hugging and more confessions, but at the end of it Aemon adopts Jon - perhaps through some Valeryian blood ritual - and gifts him the name Maeker, after his own father.
Canon proceeds apace elsewhere, save that when Jon Arryn dies, Robert rides to Highgarden at Renly's urging to name Mace Tyrell Hand of the King - and sends a raven in the opposite direction to summon Sansa as a bride for Joffrey.
Mace, through an almost comical series of events, comes to the same realization that Ned did in canon: that Cersei's children are not Robert's. Rather than try to have her step aside gracefully, he attempts to blackmail the queen into retiring to a motherhouse so that Margery can take her place... This does not go well.
Westeros erupts into war. It follows canon very closely - save that Cersei tries to use Sansa's presence in King's Landing to blackmail the North into fighting on Joffrey's side. Robb still ends up being named King in the North, this time more out of the urging of bannermen angry at how much the Southron wars have cost the North instead of revenge.
All this largely passes Maekar by on the Wall. He remains behind during the Great Ranging, serving at Aemon's assistant and apprentice. When the survivors return with news of the Others, he's skeptical but willing to hear the evidence - and wins the election for 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
As the War for the Dawn looms, Maekar sends messengers to each of the remaining kings for aide. Only Daenerys Targaryen responds, intrigued by everything she's been told by the messenger of the man they call Maekar the Maester, the adopted son of her Great-Uncle.
While Daenerys journeys north, Maester Aemon dies in his bed with Maekar at his side. With his last breaths, he gifts Maekar his maester's chain, saying that he has more than earned it - and that Maekar shall go down in history as the greatest of all Targaryens.
Daenerys grows even more intrigued by Maekar when she arrives at the Wall, but respects his desire to honor his vows. They remain great friends for the rest of their lives, sending entire flocks of ravens back and forth. Together they lead their forces against the Night's King-
-a task made easier when Bran and Meera Reed show up on the wrong side of the Wall, having slain the Three-Eyed Raven and raided his hoard. Amongst which are Blackfyre and Dark Sister.
Blackfyre is truly a massive sword and with dragonsteel in such short supply Daenerys allows Maekar to wield the Conqueror's blade in battle, as she cannot.
The War for the Dawn continues for another year - just long enough for the other kingdoms to realize what's happening and send a handful of reinforcements - before Maekar manages to slay the Night's King. Daenerys is able to destroy the last of the Others with her dragons...
...and when she lands, Maekar wastes no time in returning Blackfyre to her keeping.
A Great Council is held in the south. Though they try to offer the crown to Maekar, the hero of the War for the Dawn and (now wildly known thanks to Bran) rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Maekar refuses. They eventually grant the crown to Daenerys, who rules fairly and well for sixty years. She names her eldest son Maekar after her dearest friend.
Bonuses include: 1) Dozens of small character moments between Aemon and Maekar, showing the development of their relationship and depth of the feeling they share over the years; 2) Maekar inadvertently playing matchmaker more times than you'd expect of a man in a celibate organization. This should include hitting Bran and Meera over the head until they realize they've been crushing on each other for years, and getting Dany to give the minor lord she ends up marrying a chance; and 3) Young Jon breathing so much life into Castle Black that it's nearly unrecognizable from canon by the time Sam joins up. It's still cold, but it's not so miserable. It is, in fact, a home.
This is actually an idea I've had kicking around for a while and have only finally managed to put down. As always, feel free to adopt this most beloved of buns, just link back if you do anything with it.
Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Maekar the Maester | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Queen of Nightingales | Red Queen | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird | Visneya the Victorious | Wolf Queen
More Terrible Fic Ideas
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doodlerh · 1 year
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diversity win! new doodlerh sameface male oc is wrong in the head
LORE !! there’s gonna be some mention of child abuse/mutilation, so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to Not Read :’) however, if u do still wanna know what gehen gets up to after, skip to the line of [[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[s. see u there king
gehen’s father is the demon king’s younger brother, who was kicked out of hell for being cringe idk. anyway this guy took on a human disguise (how? idk idc) and ended up falling in love w a human woman, and they had a kid (gehen) and then the demon king’s brother . idk left. he dipped. he went to buy milk
gehen’s mom was unfortunately part of a cult that worshipped angels to a freaky level and thought of themselves as the angels’ chosen destroyers of demons who escaped from hell. demons don’t escape from hell, so sometimes they’ll just accuse ppl of being demonic and kill them to appease the angels (who, btw, do Not care)
when gehen was 9 yrs old, his horns and tail started growing in. the villagers always thought his ears were goatlike, and they start to think that this boy is actually a demon. they kill gehen’s mom (who is just as mortified and willingly dies out of disgust with herself and her monstrous son) and torture him for evading them for so long; they try to tear off his horns for an offering to the angels, and they succeed with one of them. however, fueled by panic and mb a sudden adrenaline burst of demonic power, little gehen escapes, then loses consciousness in the woods from blood loss. SAD! he’s probably found by some shaman or other who performs a Ye Olde Skin Graft with her own arm to save him, hence why that patch of skin on his forehead is a different color from the rest of him
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omg hey! ok so
recap, gehen lives with a shaman who saves him from a pretty bad injury that made him flee the anti-demon cult he was born in. gehen is grateful and stays with her, healing while also helping her w her daily chores. she tells him that his horn is special and that he is not a monster who must be destroyed as the villagers said he was. he is a living being who deserves love and life just like everyone else. instead of becoming an all-loving pacifist, gehen begins to harbor an intense hatred towards the cult that raised him. when he turns 20, he asks the shaman for some help...
with the shaman’s aid, gehen returns to his village amidst a storm of terrifying supernatural occurrences. the stars go out (smoke from the shaman’s special incense), the temperature rises (heat/fire magic), he appears larger than life (illusion magic); gehen wreaks havoc in the village and destroys the shrine where the angels are worshipped, setting fire to it and shattering the angelic idols housed within. the villagers recognize him in the firelight, and he recognizes them; he cuts off the hands that held him down and stole his horn, and he forces all the villagers to worship and obey him as their new god. he is thence known as the one-horned demon king. not to be confused with the actual demon king, who has four horns and two awful kids
that would’ve been great awesome, however, gehen doesn’t stop there. to repent for harming their master, gehen has the villagers sacrifice a 9 yr old every fifteen years. however, the night before the sacrifice, the 9 yr old always escapes; gehen frees them and sends them to safety in a far away settlement, acting as the person he needed to save him when he was their age. brings the guy comfort. but also like the kids have “was about to be a human sacrifice to a demon god” trauma forever now. at least the demon god was nice abt it
btw gehen helps and visits the shaman until she passes away a happy and healthy old woman :’) once she’s gone tho he kind of starts to spiral deeper down into a self-hatred cycle where, even though he is now these people’s god and they fear him, all they DO is fear him. they don’t like him, they don’t accept him. they’re just scared of him, and there’s nothing he can do to change that NOW. sure the kids he rescues don’t hate him but they’re not gonna come back and say it sldhgskdg GOD. now that the shaman is gone, gehen has nowhere he can just be himself (a demon) without being feared/hated!!
except for hell.
gehen wants to go to hell /pos. however, he has no way of doing that because first of all where is hell. second of all he wants the villagers afraid for their lives at all times. gee what’s a guy to do!!
(on the other side, abaddon wants to escape hell but doesn’t want to leave his 4 yr old half brother as the sole heir to the throne. gee if only SOMEONE of royal blood who DOESN’T LOOK ANGELIC really WANTED TO TAKE HIS PLACE!!!
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gehen doesn’t spend all his time in the village, he’s just there to strike fear in the ppl’s hearts and usually spends his time elsewhere striking fear in everyone else’s hearts. he’s learned to embrace how intimidating he is and thus never has trouble dealing with people, but he has now pretty much lost his humanity (pity/mercy/morality etc.). he really only saves those 9 yr olds to heal the ache of his old old wounds, he doesn’t care what happens to them after he “rescues” them. after 1000 yrs of being feared, gehen doesn’t know how to accept kindness anymore. not a problem, since he doesn’t receive any, but still
i think gehen longs for a family and a place to belong, but he doesn’t know how to deal with this feelings. carving out a place for himself in the blood of his tormentors worked for a couple decades, but that only lasts for so long. bloodshed is the only thing his heart can handle, it hasn’t betrayed him yet. he suffered from violence too, but he had to survive in this cruel hateful world with a ton of pain and isolation. by ending his victims’ lives, they have it easy!! win win!!
idk what gehen expects when he finally gets to hell, taking abaddon’s place. he’ll probably do whatever it takes to be accepted, maybe even loved. he is most likely respected due to him actually looking like a demon, but he only knows rule by fear. the demon king is gonna have a lot of teaching to do if he wants his new (very obedient and desperate to please) heir to not order sacrifices every fifteen years and kill people just to feel something and such
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whumped-by-glitter · 17 days
Text
Meet My OC's
CW: Institutionalized Slavery
this list is and evolving work in progress, hopefully I'll have pictures and additional bios soon.
The Characters:
Princess Annika Lynn Baltair (17): she is princess and hair to the throne of Tallis. Her mother was the youngest princess of Cadmus, as a result, her skin is darker than most Tallisians, closer to Dasa’s tone, she is about 5’4” tall. She does still have the same bluish undertone as well as their white hair and icy blue eyes. She also has wings like all Tallisians, white with hints of blue and silver. Like many 17-year-olds, she can be self-centered at times and a bit naive. She has a good heart, it just takes a bit to find it under the teenage attitude. It also does not help that her father spoiled her to a disgusting degree.She is initially very pro slavery, but eventually softens as she gets to know Dasa and gets to see what he goes through in his day-to-day life. She loves animals and is actually just a lonely, scared girl who doesn’t want the burden she was born into.
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Jarek Torbin (27): he is assigned as the princess’s bodyguard. He is tall at about 6’3” and built like a bear, with brown hair and lightly tanned skin due to drilling outside so often. He was in a special unit before being assigned to the princess. He joined the military underage, lying about his birth date, to get away from his drunk father and to attempt to restore his family’s honor. His father was the general of the king’s guard when Annika’s grandfather was king and was blamed and disgraced for the king’s poisoning by his oldest son. Because of that incident being indirectly caused by a Drar, Jarek absolutely hates Drar and believes they deserve to be slaves at first. He eventually becomes very protective of Dasa, even then he doesn’t necessarily flinch away from Dasa being hurt if it can’t be avoided since Jarek is very duty bound. He is also constantly having to patch up Dasa after his self-destructive escapades, so that kind of lowers his sympathy for Dasa at times as well. None the less, Jarek and Dasa do become best friends over time (and maybe more). Due to his time training, unlike most of his race Jarek has developed the ability to use two elements at once, his favorite being coating his fist with bits of metal and charging it with lightning.
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Dasa (22): Dasa is a quiet, very obedient Drar slave. He has shaggy black hair, and dark tan skin which his amber eyes almost glowed against. He stands about 5’8”, a little smaller than an average Drar male. This is due to the poison he is always taking, which also negates the quick healing Drar are usually blessed with as well. He was purchased at around the age of 2 when his master, Corvius, found out his childhood friend was trying for a child. He made Dasa consume small amounts of poison with every meal, working up a resistance to it, then as Dasa aged, he was taught to identify and neutralize them. Until he was given to Annika as a gift for her coming of age, he was actually never given a name, not even a temporary one like the other slaves Corvius trains. Instead Dasa was only called Dog or Mutt, or the like. Dasa is fiercely loyal and protective, due to a trauma he absolutely cannot tolerate seeing others hurt, which often causes him to take it on himself. Corvius was exceptionally hard on him and Dasa’s treatment growing up was definitely far worse than average, even at the hands of a noble, who are known among slaves for being particularly cruel. Dasa’s senses were developed more than most as a result of his training though, which makes him and amazing tracker, and although he is not as strong or tall as an average Drar, he is faster. He does have a few screws loose and a probably unhealthy fixation with broken bits of glass.
Corvius Atheris (47): Dasa’s first master. He was King Henrick’s childhood friend. He is about 5’6” tall, a tad shorter than Dasa, and often makes him crawl or kneel when the slave is near him due to the height difference and the amount of time Dasa is around him compared to the other slaves. he has silver-grey hair and piercing blue eyes, and the usual Tallisian subtle blue skin. He became distraught witnessing what happened to Henrick’s family, which is what caused him to start experimenting with poison. He killed 2 slaves by accident before successfully working up Dasa’s resistance. It was difficult because the Drar are so sensitive to toxins and magic, which Corvius theorized was why they evolved such keen senses in the first place. He is cruel and strict but not necessarily sadistic, his goal is to train functional slaves after all. His son, Balor, fiancée to Annika, however is sadistic and twisted, and Corvius often gives him too much freedom with Dasa.  
Masterlist
Taglist: @whumperofworlds, @wounds-seen-and-unseen
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atopvisenyashill · 6 months
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What if Stannis was the eldest instead of Robert?
This one kinda stumps me tbh. On the one hand, Ned & Stannis are far too similar to ever grow particularly friendly but on the other hand, Stannis isn’t gonna sleep around on Lyanna (he’s barely gonna sleep with her lmao) so Lyanna is probably not itching to leave that betrothal? But on the other hand, Stannis is gay in a very Roman “my god i HATE women i’m gonna suck dick instead” kinda way due to the patriarchal hellhole he lives in, and I can’t imagine him approving of how wild Lyanna is, and what 15 year old girl wants to be married to a dubiously heterosexual stick in the mud? on the other hand, stannis reiterates at several points that shireen is his heir, and he makes it a point to offer for renly to be his heir over shireen, meaning he believes in the andal “a daughter before an uncle” law so there is *some* hope for him?
regardless of how lyanna and ned and robert and stannis all feel, Lyanna is still going to save Howland from being picked on, enter the lists, beat some ass, and get found out by rhaegar, who will still crown her queen of love and beauty. he’s still gonna get fixated on her and since we don’t know how willing she was, it’s entirely possible that he makes off with her even if she says “well stannis is annoying but i promised.” brandon & rickard are still gonna go to the capital and demand lyanna back, and aerys will still kill everyone brutally and jon will still raise his banners and refuse to hand over ned and stannis.
in THIS situation tho - it’s called robert’s rebellion for a reason. for all his many failings as a ruler, a husband, a father, and a brother, robert was the perfect figurehead for this rebellion. he was military minded, thick as a castle wall, charming, and had distant valyrian blood. stannis has the valyrian blood and that’s about it. i think stannis is smart enough to get through the beginning of the war but we don’t know why the smallfolk decided to help robert in the battle of the bells. it could be they were just as sick of aerys as everyone else and would have helped any rebel, but just as likely it was robert HIMSELF who inspired that loyalty. even assuming they still hide stannis, is he capable of defeating rhaegar at the trident without help? that image of Robert’s warhammer coming down on Rhaegar is iconic not just for the series but for the rebellion! does ned step into the fight, to save stannis, to fight for his sister? does stannis declare his intentions towards the throne?? given him being a stickler for law, i think it’s much more likely stannis goes for a dance esque approach, and insists they crown baby aegon and have a group of trusted regents - this being the SECOND time a baby named aegon is crowned after all the adult targs have died, and the last in a long line of mad kings, even if that’s what stannis pushes for, with the momentum of the rebellion, i don’t know that the lords would be satisfied with that! robb certainly wasn’t trying to be named king but he couldn’t stop the momentum of the northern rebellion, and stannis - especially a stannis that hasn’t lost the battle of blackwater and had a come to jesus moment re: every life matters with edric storm and davos - is NOT gonna be able to unring that bell. beyond that, every other conflict has involved a targaryen claimant on both sides but stannis/robert are distantly targaryen only. too much infighting and i think that when ned marches on KL to beat tywin there, jon and hoster decide to push for a great council.
and that’s IF robert keeps mace distracted! because robert isn’t gonna sit in a siege, he’s gonna fight and mace is putting up a very low effort siege here - he doesn’t want to fight, he’s wary of picking on side too strongly, he’s purposefully trying to starve storm’s end out by sitting on his ass and sitting out the war. robert isn’t gonna wait for davos and his onions, he’s gonna try to break the tyrell host.
and honestly, even with the rebels still winning, without a king to rally behind, the political situation is looking. dire. who knows what a great council decides bc there are a lot of very proud men jockeying for power in the aftermath of the sack of KL, not to mention Rhaella crowning Viserys and birthing Dany and also, ya know, the Jon Snow Of It All. Robert’s Rebellion ends the way it does because Robert is an excellent figurehead for Jon Arryn to push onto the throne. Stannis doesn’t have the charisma and given he’s just as stubborn as Robert, I don’t think Jon is gonna be able to make him do jack shit. that leaves the rebellion and the realm at large in a precarious and weird situation, politically. do they crown a guy who inspires very little loyalty? do they crown an infant? a toddler? a woman? do they crown NED, with no claim to the iron throne, even distantly? do they call up maester aemon and ask him to sit on the throne while they figure out what the fuck they’re gonna do? do the kingdoms break back up??? without robert to lead them, and with stannis being stannis, i think it becomes more complicated. at the end of the day, if they decide their best option is stannis, he will feel duty bound to take the throne but you can bet your ASS he’s not marrying a lannister, or a tyrell, without a lot of cajoling bc he’ll see them as cowards. and who even are his options after that? lyanna is gone, elia is gone, rhaella is gone, rhaenys is gone, dany is an infant. lysa or cat wouldn’t be terrible choices but cat’s going to marry ned no matter what & i don’t think jon is gonna push for a girl he knows isn’t a virgin to be queen. they’ll want him married right away, but there really aren’t any suitable brides besides cersei and maybe a hightower or two? tricky tricky! robert is key to the rebellion working, without him, it goes sideways!
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rufflesandbows · 1 year
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In the Den of Dragons (Part III)
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Aegon II Targaryen x Reader
The month is dwindling away faster than you can keep track with your head in the clouds. As you enjoy your time with Aegon, you are still required to humor Barston with a once a week date. Normally it doesn't go well. However, a surprise visitor crashes the date, alleviating your headache, and sparking your envy.
Warnings: Misogyny, old timey views, inappropriate language Word Count: 4000
(Part 1) (Part 2)
Two weeks had gone by so fast. All your mind was consumed with two things: the marriage and Aegon. 
Others found it charming how you and the prince had become such friends. The vulnerability you had shown must have triggered some glimmer of a conscience in him. How pure a concept. What a miracle. You were often speaking with one another now, Aegon requesting you to where he was so he might amuse you on whatever was happening. No one seemed to have any inkling of what was truly happening when you managed to be alone with him, behind a closed door. You hoped. The Queen had gone back to ignoring you at least.
He won’t ever love you. Sir Erryk once warned, very quietly in the deep night. He was the only one who knew the truth in it’s entirety, but was sworn to Aegon’s secrets. Those secrets included you. You politely responded I’ll be leaving soon. What we do here won’t matter then, will it?
Erryk gave you a look, a cross of pity and warning, but said no more. 
Lunch today was set up for another date with Barston. You nearly slapped the medicine from his maestor you were in such a foul mood, entirely brought on by the very thought of being in the same room as the Clay Keeper. The last two, as the first, had been utterly insufferable. Your father was supposed to arrive in King’s Landing soon, and he was going to get the lecture of a lifetime. 
In the meantime, you slipped into Aegon’s room earlier in the morning than usual. The only way to ease the sharp knot forming in your skull.
He’d left the Keep maybe a total of four times since the liaisons had begun. Each time you were tense through the night. Caught between jealousy and chiding yourself for being jealous. He wasn’t yours to keep. And he was Aegon. What were you thinking imagining he’d have any sort of loyalty to you? You were not special to him. 
When he’d leave, he always came back with the scent of his adventures clinging to him. Be that in a high end brothel or low. In a bar or in the gutters. You could recount his time in the night you became so familiar with them through him.
Quietly approaching, careful not to wake him, you leaned over Aegon and could smell the incense mixed with wine, a bit of perfume and not much else. It seemed that when he left, he’d only gone to catch up with friends, likely with a woman presented on his lap. Perhaps they did a little more than sit and talk, but the little relief you felt made you smile.
You crawled on the bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Another on his jaw. When you kissed his neck, Aegon gave a hum as he lightly shifted. You moved on top of him, his hands naturally falling on your waist as you kissed down his collar, a smile growing on him. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
You started working your way back up, softly admitting by his ear, “I missed you.”
“I’ll have to take you with me next time. You might of enjoyed the show.” Aegon cupped the back of your neck as you drew close, turning in to kiss your lips. Just as quickly he snapped back with a grimace, “Oh! You taste awful!”
You took back, defensive despite knowing your mouth and every little bubble up your throat was coated in that vile decoction. “I had breakfast! You can still taste it?”
“Did you drink aged milk with your breakfast?”
You grumbled miserably, “No.” Dropping your cheek to his chest as obviously he wasn’t going to want to kiss you now. Disappointed, you curled up around him, arms and legs hugging him tightly and you got comfortable. Resting there and savoring his heat before you were to face Barston.
Aegon slowly grew tense. His hands on you tapping anxiously. You found he often got awkward after a while of your insistent cuddling. As if there was a specified time limit one should hold another. He had to find some way to escape your strange behavior. “So… what chores are you supposed to be doing?”
You scoffed. “Preparing your bath.” That was going to be something you wouldn’t miss in leaving. Pampering fully grown and capable adults as if they were children.
“Are the others behind the door or-”
“I told them to stick to their regular chores. I wanted to spend some time with you before… you know.”
“Ah. One of those days, huh?” You nodded, as well felt his legs growing restless under you. “Probably wouldn’t want to see him smelling of me.”
You lifted your head to look at him, how innocently he looked back as if he wasn’t making all this awkward. In spite of his ways, you carried a sense of teasing. “What’s the rush? Why do you want me to leave?”
“I don’t want you to leave! It’s just… I don’t know,” He grabbed your hips and moved them over his, pressing with eagerness yet he wasn’t even roused. “feels like we should be doing something at least.”
You glanced down at your connected bodies. “I’m holding you.”
“Y-yeah.”
“I like holding you. It makes me feel better.” Those big eyes of his looked around, down as if he was just made aware you were on top of him. It seemed all words were lost, looking to you for some sort of confirmation. You started pulling back, “My prince, if you don’t like it-”
“No-no! I do! I do like it!” In a rush he caught you, leaving you to straddle his lap, his hands roughly gripping your waist as if you might be stolen at any second. Amused by your cheeky ploy, he chuckled, slowly relaxing. “Usually people get a decent fuck in and can’t wait to leave the room once it’s done.” 
“More customers means more money.” You shrugged. Yet the light in his eyes faded, glancing to the rest of his room with little joy to be had. You could ask him, but you worried he might shy away. Selfishly, you had come here to lift spirits, not dampen them. Reality was going to flay you alive on your wedding night, the least the world could do was let you hover above it until then. “Maybe you should invest in a small pet.”
He raised a brow to you, a sharp smile returning to him, his hands roaming your body. “Maybe I’ll make you my pet.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, Aegon sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, suddenly very comfortable with just touching. “You think you wouldn’t like that? I’d get you everything you could desire. The finest dresses and the most glittering jewels. I could make you happy.”
You brushed his long bangs back and cupped his soft cheeks. “You already make me happy.”
Aegon gripped you tighter, the smile on him timid, a unique sight on him. He dropped his head on your chest, his arms holding you tight as he nuzzled into you. You enjoyed being held so tightly, holding him back and savoring the silence of it. After a long beat of being wrapped up in you, you heard Aegon through muffled words, “You really think you can convince your father to drop the marriage?”
“I don’t understand how he ever accepted.” You bitterly huffed. But you tried to relax yourself, combing through his silver hair and reminiscing out loud. “He trusted my council before my arrival here, he still should.”
“It’s been a year.”
“But I came here to learn more of politicking and the state of things. So I might return with a plan of raising our status and our wealth back to what it was, with the allies to support it. It would be ridiculous for him to have forgotten that.”
“And yet he’s matched you with a man who shouldn’t be matched with anybody.” When only silence returned and your hands stopped moving, he tried to pet down your rush of anxiety, moving so he could speak more clearly. “I just don’t know if you should have your hopes so high. You don’t know what’s going to happen when he gets here or what’s changed in a year.” 
“My father will listen to me.” You assured yourself more than Aegon. “He’s just been listening to the wrong people since I left. Or worse, listening to himself. I’ve always brought him to reason before.” A stirring behind the door made you jump, looking over your shoulder. You had hoped by coming to Aegon, you’d relax. Now you wanted to drag him away and hide from the world for the rest of your days, pretend like none of your situation existed.
“I best call for the others.” You reached out, running your fingers along his jaw until he looked up at you with those big pretty eyes of his, making you smile. Hesitantly, he returned it. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”
~~~
“What is this talk you went bawling to the prince about your marriage?”
You nearly burst with a sardonic laughter. He was just hearing about it now? With clenched teeth, you were grateful for sitting far across the table from Barston. His skin leathery and peeling dry from the sun, yet somehow he’d not obtained any tan. Just a permanent burn, pink red like wine stained on white cloth. His brow was so low you could hardly see his spiteful eyes, of which matched his thin bitter frown splendidly. Despite his lacking choice in apparel, he was enjoying the luxuries of the Keep and Kings Landing with ease. At lunch he always demanded it be a full table, and picked at it endlessly yet it seemed to contribute to his strength and towering height rather than any gaining of weight. Not once did he make an offer to you or ask what you might like. Such things were irrelevant. With a controlled sigh, you spoke politely. “I, admittedly, felt quite a bit of shock over the announcement and-”
“Why should you be shocked?” He grunted, guzzling on honeyed dates one after the other. “You were always bound to be married off. If anything you should have been preparing for the day since you were born. Marrying a lord and fathering his heirs is your greatest purpose. What is to fear of that?”
“I have been waiting on the day, of course-”
“Have you been taking your medicine?”
You rolled your jaw to ease the tension in it. “I have, yes. But you had asked me about the prince-”
“I don’t want you wearing white or green on your wedding gown.” 
“... they are my house colors.” The sage green willow on a crisp white field. There were once rumors of the ancient willows whispering to your family. Gathering secrets on their leaves that your ancestors used to gain great advantages. Cleverness had once been a big trait of your house. Once. It had been well over a century since someone in your family had done something truly impressive to be remembered by. Not like the ancestors that traveled the world and returned with great fortunes and beautiful paramours. The first Master of Whispers, named by Aegon the Conqueror himself for his political prowess. Even a mythical tale that they tricked creatures made of ice into returning stolen children.
That was all far in the past. Your house had since lost most of its wealth and respect over the decades. Stolen by a repeat of poor leadership.
Barston grunted, “It clashes something awful with reds and browns of mine.” 
Nonsense. You could make it work just fine. He just wanted to strip you of anything familiar. Make you forget you were more than his belonging. “I was not aware you were so adept with fashion.”
He stopped eating to glare at you. Yet it was difficult to tell since he was always glaring. His tone however, had dropped to a threatening gravel. “Don’t get cheeky with me, girl.”
“I was paying you a compliment-” 
“I can taste the venom on your tongue from here.” Unable to deny it, you remained silent. “I’ll not stand for any backtalk from my wife. Don’t think I won’t have you whipped.”
You remained silent as the heat of your anger thrashed inside. So violently you wanted to react. To set the table on fire, crack the stone beneath your feet and send the entire Keep crumbling on top of him. Yet you dug your nails into your palm and stared at your crumb ridden plate. Once you were able to wrestle back the hot tears of frustration, you asked, “When will my father be arriving?”
“Soon, I imagine. Must have been delayed, or side tracked.” He grunted. “It won’t change anything. You women think you can twist your tongues and make men bow to your whims. My money is worth far more than your words, girl. Remember that.”
“Worry not, Lord Barston. I remember everything you say.” You sneered. 
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” A far too cheery and familiar voice came. You almost felt like you were losing your mind as Aegon smiled at you and took an open seat beside Barston. 
The old man sat up straight, trying to put on an air of dignity. “Not at all, prince Aegon. Your presence is always welcome. Please, have whatever you like.”
A brow on Aegon jumped as he look at you, his smile broadening as he was in on the joke. He could at least be subtle. Barston wasn’t a complete idiot. Lightening up you gave him a forced smile. “There is plenty to go around, my prince.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He reached in and grabbed a ripe peach. “I just wanted to see how the happy couple was doing, and congratulate you on your upcoming union.” He motioned to Barton, “Will you be having a grand show of it? Or a tourney perhaps?”   
As he took a large bite of the peach, you bite your lips. How long you went off to Aegon about Barston wanting to just whisk you away back to his mud hut. Not even giving you the courtesy of fine gifts and praise for a single day. Surely that would boost your ego too far to be treated as a proper woman for even a single day. 
Barston looked at you, sensing your disapproval. You didn’t say anything and let your soon to be husband explain himself. This man who so easily berated you, suddenly too stiff to move and speaking carefully.
“Uh, no. Much as it is a special occasion, I must be returning by the end of the month. The Reedmarsh has been without its Lord for too long already.” It was nice to see Barston finally behaving himself. See him a little shook up, a little uncertain. A wonder then how he’d feel about your familiarity with those he trembled before. 
Aegon was being a bit noisy in his eating of the peach. You weren’t thinking anything of it until you glanced at him, just to see he was looking directly at you as he sucked and licked at the soft fruit. You were amused as he was trying to be sensual and clearly aimed to arouse you, but really he was just making a sticky mess of himself. Fighting back a smile, you asked, “Aegon, what are you doing?”
He shrugged innocently, his mouth half full. “I’m eating.”
“You’re being quite the tramp about it.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Barston flinch in shock, his mouth slightly agape and for the first time, you saw he had green hazel eyes. Aegon gave you a pout, setting the mauled peach on his plate. “I was trying to impress you.”
You chuckled, “I’ll say, that peach is thoroughly ravaged.” Honestly, watching him nonchalantly lick up and clean his fingers had far more of an effect on you. It was a more familiar sight, making your face heat at the memories of only a few nights before. The scene had the added benefit of seeing Barston utterly appalled and helplessly silent. You steepled your fingers and rested your chin on them, leaning closer to Aegon as you teased him, “You know, I heard a rumor just before lunch that you acquired quite a large debt from gambling last night.”
As his thumb slipped from his lips, he became awkward and looked away from you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard your mother was quite… livid, is the polite word.” He made a stressed expression, unable to even look at the table. “You wouldn’t be joining us just to hide from her, would you? Hm? Is the prince of the Realm a craven?”
Barston made a very audible choking sound, his knuckles white on the table, pressing so hard you were surprised the wood didn’t crack. His face was more red than you’d ever seen it before, a deep red tomato standing out on his brown attire. “How can you speak-”
“Call me a craven all you want, my mother is ferocious when angered.” Aegon was sat lower in his seat, ankle resting on his knee, having brushed off your accusation with ease, now chewing at his nail.
Much as everyone would doubt, you knew Queen Alicent would try to be strict with him, and that it served little purpose. It only pushed Aegon to leave the Keep for longer and indulge deeper and darker vices. If things weren’t smoothed over between them, you might not see Aegon for the next two weeks. Not until you were long gone to Reedmarsh, never to return. You thought a moment before coming up with a plan. “Stop me if I am too bold, but what I would do is go back to my princely room. Get a sizable and ornate box and fill it with gold, silver and gems. You have a plethora of old gifts collecting dust, I’m sure that won’t be difficult. I’d take that box and preferably offer it on the high council, but if I couldn’t make a formal presentation, I’d take it to Lord Beesbury. I would say, I feel awful about the debt, and I wish to give a donation to cover the expenses. He’ll politely take enough to cover the debt, and try to give back the rest. I’d refuse. I’d push it back and insist this is a donation. I’ve taken far more than the most recent debt in the past. This is compensation.”
Barston leaned over the table, seething at you between clenched teeth. “That is too bold. You speak of conspiracy.”
You let out a high gawk of surprise. “Conspiracy? No one is getting hurt or deposed. In fact it adds to the crowns revenue!”
“You speak of manipulating the Queen.” He said. A quiet air of threat as if the guards would spring at any moment and drag you both to the dungeons. Aegon kept a watchful eye at the new couple already bitterly snapping at one another.
“How is paying for his own debt and gifting a surplus a manipulation!?”
“It is your intentions. They are not genuine nor honorable.” Barston was trembling to restrain himself. He wanted so badly to openly scream and berate you, slam his fist on the table or throw it to the ground entirely. But he wouldn’t while royalty sat next to him.
How the Gods damned you. What a pleasure it would be to live as royalty. 
“What matters is what is written down. The intention will be irrelevant when it has a very real and even helpful impact. The trinkets are of no worth to the prince, but they will have great worth to the crown and the smallfolk.” You turned to Aegon, “It would be better than showing up with nothing.”
He gave a nod and a reluctant frown before rising to his feet. “Very well. I better find a way to sneak back to my room before Sir Erryk finds me. Enjoy the rest of your lunch, my lady.” 
As he walked by, he reached out and quickly drug his fingers, still soaking wet and sticky from the peach and his failed attempt at cleaning them along your cheek. “Ah! Aegon!”
He laughed as he quickly walked away, flashing you a bright smile as you quickly grabbed your napkin and started wiping down your face. A small giggle slipped through your lips. Once Aegon was out of earshot, Barston slammed his fist on the table, making everything jump. “How can you speak to the Prince so formally? Have you no respect of rank!? Are you such a spoiled and arrogant-”
“The Prince Aegon prefers natural conversation.” You said simply, still trying to scrub the stickiness off your face. “He finds people who are too formal fake and annoying. His words, not mine.”
Barston was huffing through his nose he was so worked up. Yet he didn’t say anything. Slowly, he sat back, looking between you and where Aegon had left to. “I did not expect you to be so close to the Prince.”
Such a sentence could be interpreted in a few ways. You weren’t sure if he knew of Aegon’s reputation, but you knew Barston as prideful as he was suspicious. When your father finally came to Kings Landing, you wouldn’t have to bother knowing anything about him again. “I have been living in the Red Keep for a year. I bathe his little ones and give his wife company. I bring his mother breakfast and wash her dresses. It should be no surprise I am close with the Royal family.”
You stared one another down hard, the meal holding all the gravity of a battlefield awaiting action. “You may go.” He said. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
With a polite bow, you left, positively glowing. A nice change from leaving these dates. Feeling uppity through the rest of your chores. When it came time to deliver Aegon his nightly wine, the moment the door shut and you set the decanter down on the table, you were warmly embraced from behind. 
“You are a gift from the Gods, you know that?”
You chuckled, pouring a cup as Aegon buried himself against your neck, sending all the hair to rise as he peppered kisses there. “All went well then?”
“Her temper cooled as soon as I set down the box.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, staring off rather than taking his cup. “She even said she was proud of me for taking responsibility for my actions.”
“Must have been nice to hear.”
He was silent as thoughts you were not privy to danced in his eyes. You were patient, content with just seeing him. There was a tick in his gaze and everything shifted. Aegon pulled back enough to turn you around in his arms, a sultry lilt in his voice. “For your efforts, there should be a talk of your reward...”
“Reward?” You said innocently. “I need no reward. I only wish to serve my kingdom as best I can.”
Aegon didn’t by it. He gave you a nod and pulled back completely, taking his cup of wine with him. “Alright then. Goodnight.”
You couldn’t hide the pout on you even if you tried. “What?”
“Oh? What?” He mocked your surprise, relaxing on his bed and sipping his drink. “Maybe you do want a reward? Hm? Maybe you do want me up your skirts? You want my hands on you? You want my mouth on your cunt?”
You should be used to his brazen filthy talk by now, but still you felt your cheeks heat, took a very coy stance in swaying your skirts. “I wouldn’t dare ask for something so specific but if that’s what you want to do, it would be awfully rude of me to refuse a gift from the prince.”
“What a sweet girl you are.” He reached out to you and you eagerly jumped onto the bed, Aegon nearly spilling his drink as you enveloped him completely. Giggles filling the room before you kissed him, this time without him grimacing at the taste of the medicine.
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(Part 4)
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amplifyme · 3 months
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War stories
“It wasn’t just the wildfire. I’ve faced flames in battle before. The fires feed the rage. So does the fear.” Sandor casts a glance at Elder Brother. They are sitting at a table in the common hall, during the lull that comes between supper and evening prayers. A storm rages outside, a bitterly cold wind rattling the shutters of the windows and finding its way in through tiny seams and cracks in the walls, stirring the air around them with its icy fingers.
“Any soldier who claims he is not afraid is a liar, or a fool. Fear and anger are a dangerous combination,” Elder Brother offers, “especially when armed with steel.”
“As any man who’s ever faced me could attest - if I hadn’t put them all in the ground.” Sandor takes a sip of hot mulled wine and sets the driftwood cup back on the table. “Men were falling all around me. Burning or bleeding or both; dying. The Blackwater was on fire. I’d led a third sortie and knew we were beaten. I got what men I had left back inside the gate. And then the Imp decided what we’d already faced wasn’t sufficient. That’s when it happened: when I’d bloody well had enough.
“The Lannisters,” he spits, “frauds, every one of them, and me worst of all for my allegiance to them. I was somewhere I didn’t want to be, doing things I didn’t want to do. And for what? So I could be sent back out into the fires of the seven hells to fight for things I wanted no part of? So that sick little fuck could sit on his iron throne and continue mistreating her?”
It has been near two years since Sandor Clegane first came to the Quiet Isle and winter has fallen hard upon Westeros.
“It’s good she didn’t come with me then. I would have gotten us both killed within a fortnight. Though there are times I wonder if I didn’t leave her to a worse fate: her marriage to the dwarf and then accused of regicide.”
“You don’t believe her capable of murder?”
“I didn’t say that. Everyone is capable of murder. She meant to kill Joff once, just after he’d had her lord father’s head lopped off. I saw what she was thinking and stepped between them, stopped her. The little king never knew how close he came to flying that day. But his murder by poison? No. That requires a cruel cunning and the little bird don’t have it in her. Short-tempered she could be, but not calculating, not that way.”
“People change, brother. You know that better than most. You knew Sansa Stark when she was a child. You cannot know who she has become.”
“If it’s true that snake Baelish has her, may your gods be with her.”
[...]
He thinks on all the plans he’s made over the last two years, all the possible scenarios his mind has created on those long nights when he can’t sleep and lies awake instead, warmed by his memories of her. Sandor wipes a calloused hand across the battered wood of the table and quietly snickers at his strange quirk of fate.
“What makes you smile, brother?”
Sandor lifts his eyes and looks at the man across the table. “Do I have to share every bloody thought in my head? You should be tired of listening to me by now, old man.”
“Perhaps. But I grow weary of hearing my own voice. And it is pleasant to talk to someone other than my proctors.”
“You get tired of their pious bleating too, do you? Be honest now, you like swapping war stories with me. You were a soldier; that never leaves you.”
“I am a man of the Faith now – that is my life’s calling.”
Sandor gives him a long, reflective look, one which is returned in kind. It does not occur to him to wonder when being looked at straight on stopped being a rarity and became the norm. There are no eyes on this isle that will not willingly meet his. “Tell me: were you brought to your knees when you found your gods?” he asks.
These Scars We Wear, Chapter 6
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