#it's a gift for rose and brook

[roseadleyn]

𝙃𝙚𝙢𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠. || 𝘿𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝘼𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙚.

a gift for @dion-s-lawyer and @d10nsaint <3

hemlock is a poisonous plant, toxic to both humans and animals, and it means 'you will be my death.'

...aah, can you tell where i started losing motivation?

— rose.

affection — how do they show their love and affection?

dion does not know what affection is, or how to show it. he takes you with him on a 'mission' and gets confused when he gifts you a dead person's head and you start screaming. don't you like it?

blood — how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

he's willing to bathe in a pool of blood when it comes to you (baby it isn't like you don't already do that). and he doesn't hesitate to snap off anyone's neck — be it his own family or anyone else. he's not waiting until someone proves malicious intent towards you, either. talk or reach out to anyone other than him, and that person is dead.

cruelty — how would they treat their darling once abducted?

he treats you just like he treated you before the abduction. he's a lot more.. hm, is condescending the right word? he keeps you on a leash and when he's feeling spiteful, makes you crawl. he likes it when you look up at him with pleading eyes to not put you through this humiliation. (he's still gonna do it, honey. sucks to be you <3)

darling — aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

uhm, this is dion? definitely yes. he doesn't care whether you're okay with whatever he does; he forces himself into your personal space and then expects to be taken care of. makes you sleep with him or on the floor. you're eating at his feet or not eating at all. the usual fare.

exposed — how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

he feels like there's a knife in his side that's constantly twisting. are you okay? are you hurt? did someone try to harrass you and he has to kill them? his worries are never ending.

fight — how would they feel if their darling fought back?

amused. it's funny to see you trying to escape and act defiant. precious pet, you actually think you have a chance?

game — is this a game to them? how much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

it's.. a game at some points. he's fine with you crying, it's nice... but when you cry for him, give him that pitying look, he feels a rush of feeling like he's lost something. give him that look and he'll really give you a reason to cry. as for your escape attempts... he'd enjoy at it the beginning, but as soon as you get too audacious, he'll crush your little rebellion in absolutely no time.

hell — what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

once, you tried to slip poison in dion's tea, unaware of his immunity.

dion locks you in the dungeons and whips you until your back is in bloody tatters. he takes a break when you fall unconscious and then starts again, making sure you're able to feel the pain.

ideals — what kind of future do they have in mind for their darling?

he doesn't care. as long as he has you, he's fine, he's not too worried about the future.. but sometime in the future, he'll marry you. not because of any loving reason. he'll just have a justification of being by your side at all times then.

jealousy — do they get jealous? how do they handle it?

if you ever give a second glance to someone else he gets jealous. and then he kills that person or gives them in as a toy. simple.

kisses — how do they act around or with their darling?

he tries to be a bit.. less frightening, but mostly he still gives you shivers with how he's surveying your body.

love letters — how would they go about approaching their darling?

he'd either get lant to arrange a meeting or he'll just abduct you straight away. it's not that deep for him. if you catch his eye.. oh, it isn't gonna be good for you. you'll most probably be knocked out, so you don't notice the pitying looks his siblings give you.

mask — are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

no. he acts with you just like he does with everyone else — stone cold, monotonous, blank. however, you two sit in the stairwell during a ball sometimes. he tells you about how he used to wait for his mother to come tuck him in as a child. she never came, of course.

naughty — how would they punish their darling?

blood. a lot of it. he'll lock you up and whip you, or he'll 'test' out a new knife on you, or he'll lace you up in a too-tight corset and enjoy watching you beg and plead for air.. the possibilities are endless. just please try not to anger him, especially on days in which he's already in a foul mood.

oppression — how many rights would they take away from their darling?

rights? is that like a thing? that you actually get?

patience — how patient are they with their darling?

not very patient. he'll let you defy him for a month. a week more if he's feeling generous. then you better prepare yourself. any more further disobedience will not go down well for you.

quiet — if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

sort of? he just feels more hollow than ever. throws all your belongings in a fire and never speaks of you again. as far as anyone else is concerned, you never existed.

lant finds him a replacement girl who cannot for the life of her understand why her husband refuses to talk of you or why her husband almost strangled her to death for touching the picture he keeps of you.

regret — would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling?

just a tiny little bit. maybe this wasn't the amazing thing he thought it was because you're just crying and crying and — then it's swallowed up by justification. he believes a pet's rightful place is by their master's side — exactly where you are right now.

stigma — what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

a neglectful father who views him as a weapon, and an insane mother who dissects people on an hourly basis, and a crazy family. blame maria and lant if you want, but they're both unhinged and mental so they don't really care 🤷‍♀️

tears — how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

he will make you sob and then wonder why it doesn't feel good. isn't he supposed to feel delighted at the sight of your tears dripping down the bridge of your nose? why does he feel an urge to cuddle you until you stop weeping?

unique — would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

yes. he can't live without you yet he acts like you're absolutely nothing. makes you feel pathetic and worthless so you don't see that you're the one thing he can't live without, ever.

vice — what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

none. no visible weakness. if you want a chance to escape, take a leaf out of roxana's book and patiently, subtly manipulate him. don't overdo it, though. he's not an idiot, he'll see through you in an instant.

wit’s end — would they ever hurt their darling?

with pleasure <33

xoanon — how much would they revere their darling?

sometimes, when he sees you asleep or in his clothes.. he feels his heartbeat speed up and something constricting his throat. he doesn't know how to express it or what even is it. just mutters a rushed 'you've got clothes of your own' before walking away.

yearn — how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

he doesn't pine after you. he sees you, observes you for a week or two, and then kidnaps you if you grab his interest. he's not the waiting type of person. and either way you'll end up with him, so what's the point of delaying?

zenith — would they ever break their darling?

yes. dion often leaves poisons outside; he's immune so he doesn't necessarily need to fear. that being said, you are neither immune nor illiterate. you heard once how soldiers used to take suicide pills to save themselves from torture and imprisonment.. isn't that exactly what dion is doing to you?

the pills are in your hand before you can think about what you're doing.

—

taglist ; @hmerus, @dxmoness, @giyuus0nlywife, @parkykwho, @lady-navier0357, @sidra-29, @mysticmeena, @loekas, @hevaenly, @ylxntis / @ykassu, @that-one-pretty-bitch, and @elychee. (ely, jacqueline, i know you hate dion but i just. i couldn't not tag u i'm really sorry 😭)

#꒰ ☽︎ ꒱ — stars. #it's a gift for rose and brook #i do like how this turned out #the ending is so theatrical please 😭 #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #dion agriche #dion agriche x reader #twtptflob dion #twtptflob x reader #dion is already a yandere bestie #this is how being in a relationship with him would turn out

[cinnbar-bun]

Gifts OP Characters Give you for Valentine’s Day

Rating: SFW

A/n: happy Valentine’s Day!! Enjoy this short little thing. Vday is kinda messy for me cuz I’m allergic to chocolate so 😭 Oofie lmao. Chopper is platonic only!!!

Luffy: He is very earnest and most of his “affection” is shown through actions, so he’ll probably be more physically affectionate and want you by his side all day. Would gift you some food to share and maybe a single flower (he accidentally crushed it but it’s so cute)

Zoro: Your favorite drink. He probably would drink lots of sake, but if you don’t drink sake/alcohol in general, he buys you your favorite soda, coffee, tea, or sparkling juice etc. to drink beside you. Prefers a more romantic gesture of drinking at night alone with you under the stars.

Nami: Chocolate covered tangerines. Or if you’re allergic to both/either/don’t care for those, she gives you a nice piece of matching jewelry to wear with her.

Usopp: A heart-shaped device. Dunno what that device would specifically be but it’s probably based on whatever you needed and he decided to spruce it up for you.

Sanji: Mr. Prince does everything. Bugs you two dozen glitter roses, large teddy bears, and heart shaped everythings. Gives the gifts to you all day and makes sure to make a romantic vday dinner with you. Lots of kisses.

Chopper: cotton candy!!! And it’s pink!!! And kinda looks like a heart!! (Please ignore the way he wants to take a bite of it… or don’t and just forfeit all your possessions to him).

Robin: A lovely scrapbook and some flowers. She likes homemade gifts for you and her, so she made sure to buy those for you to always carry the memories you two shared with each other.

Franky: a miniature boat with figures of you and him he dubs the ‘love boat’. It’s so cheesy but it’s so expertly crafted and made you can’t help but be l happy about it.

Brook: a new song just for you. Brook is always happy to perform for you, and you’re his biggest muse so he’s always got you on the brain. He crafts a love song just to express his feelings for you.

Jinbei: a nice new tea and some desserts for you two to indulge in and relax with. Sweets are always better with you <3

Buggy: New makeup and a matching outfit with him. He loves when your outfits complement his so he wants to have you dress up in a similar fashion to him!

Mihawk: Nice homemade meals and a romantic dinner. He’s extra attentive and romantic today, making sure to pepper you in kisses and hold you close to him.

Crocodile: Expensive gifts made with gold and lots of flowers. Excess is the name, and that’s Crocodile’s game. He is happy to present you with a room full of gifts and then murmur to you he is happy to have you beside him the rest of the day (and night).

Law: Says he doesn’t believe in this yet he got you nice (and a healthier version) of some of your favorite foods. Also some flowers too, which he extensively looked up the meaning of so he could confess the feelings he’s too tsun to admit (if you care to notice-)

Corazon: Says you don’t need a gift, since your love is the best gift in the world. Just kidding, he gets you flowers and offers to take the day off to just do whatever you want.

Doflamingo: Awwwww you were expecting flowers? Maybe even chocolates? No, he’s got you a new outfit and you better be ready soon cuz he’s got a reservation at a fancy restaurant for the both of you.

Shanks: Also says you don’t need a gift because he’s the greatest thing ever and your love is just so strong with each other and- okay okay, he’s being serious now. He got you that one trinket you were eyeing at the island back there that you thought he didn’t notice you were eyeing but he did because he’s like that.

Beckman: Gruff man who is offering to take care of you today and make sure you’re completely relaxed and not lifting a finger. If the others try to get you to work, he’s lecturing them. Also wants to just spend time with you quietly.

Ace: Big teddy bear!!! It’s so cute!!! Just like you!!! He had to get it!! Might also accidentally set it on fire from getting flustered when you kiss his cheek.

Sabo: Gentleman- he gets you traditional gifts associated with Valentines Day, but then offers to take you to an untraditional date spot.

Koala: Girl put her hardest effort into making your favorite sweets/food. She wants a romantic meal with you and to spend time not working for a night.

Perona: … hello??? You’re supposed to be getting HER gifts??? She’s a princess, why are you bugging? Okay… she’ll admit, she made you a cute gothic outfit so you can be just as cute as her. She demands romantic movies and cuddles.

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #luffy x reader #nico robin x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro x reader #usopp x reader #nami x reader #franky x reader #soul king brook x reader #jinbei x reader #buggy x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #crocodile x reader #trafalgar law x reader #corazon x reader #doflamingo x reader #benn beckman x reader #portgas ace x reader #sabo x reader #koala x reader #perona x reader

[kohabielnin]

Valentine Day Headcanons

I know it took me a while to do this, as classes make it a little difficult for me, this is another gift for someone very special to me, the @kaval0 💕

Norton Campbell

• Incredible as it may seem, he remembered the date and was prepared days before as he saw the children arranging things to give gifts to those they like,

• Everyone in the mansion was surprised when he handed you a flower and chocolates,

• Naib stole some chocolates just to tease Norton, as usual,

• His embarrassed look when he handed you the chocolates was really cute,

• Both Melly, Frederick and Alice wondered if he was actually sick,

• In general, no one in the mansion expected Norton to give you chocolates

Ronald of Ness

• He closed the theater so he could have time with just you,

• I always saw this skin as one of Norton's most romantic skins because he's an actor,

• This man is not very good at cooking, so the one who helped him with everything was Lady Truth,

• He compares you all the time to flowers, especially roses,

• For a whole day, you can wear his hat and mask,

• He called Mr. Inference to boast that he had company on Valentine's Day...

Naib Subedar

• You two ate the chocolates together, it was cute according to witnesses,

• He worked hard to make the chocolates and even harder not to eat them 💕

• Norton played little a with Naib, but he didn't care and ignored Norton,

• He was a little shy when it came to handing over the chocolate, as he had never done it before,

• Eli helped him have the courage to go talk to you and Brooke watched so Naib didn't give up halfway,

• Spending Valentine's Day with him was definitely a lot of fun

Morningstar

• He made his servants make a feast just for you,

• He just loves spoiling you, whether it's a holiday or just a regular day,

• There isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't say he loves you out of fear of losing you,

• He made you a crown similar to his as a gift,

• He himself searched the entire kingdom for the most beautiful rose so he could give it to you,

• In general, Morningstar is a sweet, beautiful, perfect and sweetheart

Orpheus

• This man simply wrote the most romantic poem you've ever seen in your life, along with flowers and chocolate,

• Guess who had a pinky in the middle of one of the letters you received? Exactly, Little Girl,

• You two had a great day together,

• He took the day to listen to you talk about the books you like while giving your opinion about them too,

• He is very good with words, so sometimes he would say something or other to embarrass you, like a compliment in French that he learned from Frederick,

• There was no shortage of tea and cookies in the afternoon for you two

Bonus due to our zap/discord ship in which I am Frederick

Frederick Kreiburg

• Ok... you woke up hearing him playing your favorite song on the piano,

• If you ask him about this, you will only hear: "I feel like playing this song", with an indifferent pose as always,

• On the coffee table, there is a plate with some strawberries covered in chocolate and a handmade letter from him,

• He has a slight difficulty being romantic, but his small acts show that he cares a lot about you,

• He won't mind spending the day playing the piano for you if you wish,

• If you don't want him to spend the day playing the piano for you, he won't mind taking you somewhere relaxing with few people

#identity v x reader #naib subedar x reader #norton campbell x reader #ithaqua morningstar #ithaqua x reader #orpheus idv x reader #norton campbell ronald of ness

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson seven

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: we are finally back!! i’m so sorry i took me so long to get this going again after kinktober but i promise to regularly update now 🥺

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley, mentions of the readers family/ex

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst, cursing

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS, DECEMBER 1992

Steve had it all planned out. The perfect date that you hadn’t even said yes to yet, that he hadn’t even asked you on yet. But he was prepared, nonetheless.

He’d been sitting on the plan throughout the winter break. You revealed to him that you planned to go home for the holidays, to see your family and spend the break with them. His brain started working overtime from the first day, what he could possibly say to you, in what way he could ask you.

He called your Mom’s house to wish you well on Christmas, your voice ringing through the receiver making Steve all warm inside. He felt like a teenager again, like a boy with his first crush on the pretty girl. He was unable to get your voice out of his head for the rest of the break.

New Year’s Eve soon rolled around and you were back in town. Steve had arranged to meet you for coffee, a quick catchup prior to the big New Years Party at Steve’s place later on. You had originally planned to meet at your favourite bakery across town, until you called that morning and asked Steve just to meet at your apartment.

Steve knocked at your door, his heart thumping against your chest. He wondered if he would always feel this nervous when it came to you, or if it was just the unsaid question that lingered on his tongue. He clutched a gift bag in his hand, patiently waiting for you to answer.

The door swung open and there you were. You looked cosy and comforting, a little bit like home. You welcomed Steve inside with a side hug, squeezing at his side. He handed you over the gift, insisting it was only a little something from Robin and himself for Christmas.

Steve could tell something was off, that you were different somehow. Your eyes didn’t light up the same as they did before, your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. It did worry him a little, made him wonder if he’d done something, or if something had happened back home.

You sat over your steaming mugs, the coffee warming your hands from the bitter cold outside. “How have the holidays been? How was home?” It was a simple question, Steve thought. Desperately hoping you would open up to him.

“Home was okay,” you replied quietly with a shrug, “I told my Mom about you, she said she’d love to meet you.” Thinking about it brought a small smile to your face, and an even bigger one to Steve’s.

“Your Mom has great taste.” Steve replied with a smirk, bringing the mug to his lips, his eyebrows wiggling over the rim.

“Saw my ex,” the smile immediately disappeared when you uttered the words. A look of uncertainty replaced it instead.

“Oh,” it was said with a nod, a hint of caution around his voice, “how did that go?”

Steve didn’t know all of the details, you never talked about your ex much but what Steve did know about them, he didn’t like it. You had expressed that the breakup was messy, hinted that your ex didn’t treat you right, that you moved to Hawkins to get away from them.

“Weird?” It was the only way you could describe it, you were fighting with your heart and your brain, “He apologised for everything that happened, practically begged me to forgive him and take him back.”

You couldn’t look Steve in the eye, your gaze trained on the steaming mug of coffee in your hands. You liked to think it came from a place of care, though you suspected there was a hint of jealousy but Steve’s demeanour changed every time you mentioned your ex boyfriend.

“And?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly with a shrug, “he seemed genuine, like he really meant it. And things ended so messy, there was just never any closure for any unresolved feelings, I guess.”

Your voice was uncertain, almost like you were hiding something and Steve could tell. It was like there was something you weren’t telling him, something you couldn’t bare to say.

“Right.”

Steve’s tone was sharp and so unlike Steve. He was never this way with you, never harsh, never snappy. It made you blink twice, your eyes narrowing at the man sitting across from you.

“What?” was all you asked, straightening your back as you eyed him.

“Nothing!” Steve held his hands up in his defence, trying to downplay his attitude, “I just don’t think it’s such a good idea to forgive so easily, maybe he’s not good for you.”

Steve’s heart sank to his stomach the moment the words left his mouth. But he was speaking from a good place and God, he wished you would listen to him.

On the other hand, Steve’s words stung. A prickly, cold sting in your stomach that hurt in a way you never thought they could. You knew his words were probably true, that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to go back to your ex but your head was a mess and you couldn’t think straight.

“What, and you are?” Your tone was accusatory, your voice dripping with a venom you never thought you could use on Steve. You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth but it all got a little much, your head spinning with conflicting thoughts.

“What?! No, that’s— that’s not what I meant,” Steve stammered, lost for words at your question. His cheeks began to heat up, his palms growing clammy. Sure, Steve had feelings for you but fuck, you didn’t need to find out and you certainly weren’t supposed to find out like this.

“I just meant, you moved to a whole new state! New job, new home to get away from this guy, y’know?” Steve desperately tried to reason with you but it seemed the more he spoke, the more upset you looked. “I’d hate for him to do that to you all over again.”

Steve was sincere and you knew he was. You knew he was speaking from his heart and that you should listen but damn, were you stubborn and not prepared to hear this right now. You didn’t know what to think, you didn’t know what to feel. Your heart was saying one thing and your head another. And you really, really wished your head would win this battle.

Your anger soon subsided, it turned into a dull ache and a bitter sadness at the pit of your stomach. You needed time, you needed space. “I think—, I don’t know, I think I need to be alone for a little while.” You spoke quietly now, your eyes meeting Steve’s for only a second. His warm brown orbs not sparkling with the fondness they usually held for you behind his glasses.

Steve could only nod silently, his eyes not quite meeting your gaze as he stood from the kitchen table, coffee only half drunk. He took a breath in, fingers scratching at his neck as he spoke, “It’s okay, I get it,” he paused, jacket in hand, “and I’m sorry, y’know? For prying, I guess but I hope you figure it all out.”

So Steve picked up his broken heart and left your apartment, shutting the door closed behind him. The drive back to his house was silent, no radio, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the cool wind outside.

The feeling as he shut the door behind him was painful, the thumping sound of the early 90s blasted from the stereo in Steve’s living room, Robin in the kitchen with a wide, excited smile on her face when she saw her best friend walk into the room.

“Used my spare key, hope you don’t mind,” she started, urging him to take a seat. It was uncommon that Robin would show up at Steve’s place unannounced and not to say that Steve wasn’t expecting Robin but he certainly wasn’t expecting her this early, “so, how’d it go? Did she say yes?”

Steve could only groan in response. Your disaster of a conversation, what was supposed to be Steve asking you out on a date, replayed in his mind. “Don’t even go there,” he sighed, setting his head in his hands as his elbows rested on the table, “it was a fucking car crash Robin.”

Robin can’t say she was shocked at Steve’s ability to put his foot in it from time to time, to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, “What happened?”

“I can’t, fuck—,” Steve’s fingers raked through his hair before pushing his glasses up his face, finger and thumb pinching at the bridge of his nose, “long story short, her ex might be back in the picture? I said something that I probably shouldn’t have but I was just trying to look out for her, Robs, really, I was.” He sighed now, thinking back over his words. Steve didn’t regret what he said, more regretting the timing of them. “Then she said she wanted to be alone so I don’t think she’s gonna show at the party tonight either.”

“Oh, Steve,” was all the younger girl could say. She knew Steve liked you, really liked you, even if he denied it as such. “I’m sorry, that sucks big time.”

“Yeah, thanks, Robin.” The older of the two rolled his eyes with a groan, his tough exterior softening once he felt Robin’s hand on his shoulder, her fingers squeezing gently over the material of his sweater.

For once, Robin was at a loss for words. Unsure what to say to make Steve feel better, if it was even possible for him to feel better. “Maybe give her a little time? Everything’s happened so fast a bit of space might be good.”

Steve had no choice but to listen to Robin because deep down he knew she was right. Badgering you and pushing you wouldn’t make it better, wouldn’t make you change your mind. Even though all Steve wanted to do was talk to you, to hear your voice, hear your laugh. To see your smile and your pretty eyes but it wasn’t meant to be.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #teacher!steve #alir #k.fic

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page  

Now and Then

 - Chapter 9-

Choices, The Royal Romance, AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belongs to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M🔞Warnings - Series will contain crude language, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 2498

Now and Then – 9 

Chapter Summary: Riley and William arrive in Cordonia 

Title & Music Inspiration: 

Now and Then, The Beatles                                       

When You Love Someone, Gretchen Peters, Bryan Adams 

Wherever You Will Go, The Calling 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: My submission for @choicesflashfics, Week#67, prompt #1 - “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

A/N3: My submission for @choicesjanuary2024, prompt Day 25 - ‘Remembrance’ #choices monthly challenge @lilyoffandoms #choicesjanuary2024 

A/N4: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. 

In Flight, Cordonian Royal Jet, above the Mediterranean Sea 

Looking out over the vast expanse of water below her, and under the clear blue skies above the Mediterranean Sea, no clouds were in sight ... not a white cloud, nor a black cloud. 

Riley gazed out the large passenger window of the private jet, in solace, with her memories. Everything felt calm; almost too calm. The flight from New York to Cordonia was eight hours in duration, and even though they left early in the morning, they would not arrive at the palace until late in the evening with the change in time zones. 

Trying to and not getting any rest, her thoughts returned to the events over the holidays.

...Remembering when Liam arrived at her door, in New York on Christmas Eve, a short week ago. The expression of elation on his face as she opened the door for him... 

[‘Hello, my love,’ he tenderly smiled; He was standing there with an exquisite bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, as uniformed delivery drivers from the toy store waited patiently at a distance behind him, as the Royal guard performed a security check. 

Liam stepped over the threshold, leaning down to draw her in for a kiss on the cheek, as she accepted his gift. ‘Oh Li, these are gorgeous; thank you so much.’ 

At Bastien’s prompt, the delivery people entered the brownstone with prewrapped gifts and placed them under the Christmas tree, also filling the extra space in the living room very quickly. 

Chuckling, Riley watched as Liam thanked them with a generous tip, as he closed the door after them. 

“Our son will be so thrilled at what Santa brought him; wait till he wakes up tomorrow.”  

Liam laughed, moving quickly to put his arm around her, pulling her to his side. “Who says all these gifts are just for him? Hmmm?” Riley turned her head towards him, as Liam bent to capture her lips in a passion-fueled kiss. 

“Ah yes, your gift is right here.” Liam slipped his hand inside his coat to reveal a small box, wrapped in gold with a red ribbon. “This is for you.”} 

Riley breathed out, shaking her head. 

...Remembering wanting him so badly that evening ...as he kissed her forehead to say ‘good night’ before turning to the guest room; Leaving her feeling so confused, once again. 

...Remembering how excited LiLi was when he saw his father again Christmas morning ... and the look of pure joy in Liam’s expression as he watched his son blissfully playing with his new toys. 

...Remembering the look of adoration between Liam and his son; a private and sacred bond established between the two ... a bond only meant for them. 

Riley looked down at her phone and smiled fondly at the picture of William. He was proudly standing beside his gingerbread house gift for Liam, alongside Daniel and Matteo, to smile at the camera. Riley marveled at how unequivocally her son loved his father, so quickly. As if two loose puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. There was never a doubt in her mind that William needed to be wherever his father was. The connection between father and son was undeniable. 

...and with those thoughts, she agreed to return to Cordonia.  

And now, she found herself on the Royal jet headed back, leaving behind her New York world for the place that shattered her ‘happily ever after,’ again. 

Liam, being the new, ever-doting father was pointing out to his son the shores of Cordonia through the window. She saw the look of marvel in Liam’s eyes, as he watched his son’s reaction to seeing Cordonia for the very first time. They were sitting in seats across the aisle from her as she glanced over. 

Catching Riley’s eye, Liam responded with a wink and a smile. 

"Welcome home, love." 

Riley smiled in return, as her heart skipped a beat. 

Home... 

It had been a while since she had felt this way about Cordonia. Another lifetime; so much has changed, and yet remained the same. 

***

Damien Nazario, the Interpol agent who was now permanently assigned to be William Rys's personal bodyguard, was reviewing the Crown prince's dossier, and his duties to the Cordonian crown, his new employer. Bastien took a seat beside the young agent to answer any questions he may have, as head of the Royal guard, at the rear of the plane's cabin. 

"So, Damien, any questions for me?" 

"No, sir. I believe I have a handle on the situation.” 

"Good, because you are now the official head of the security detail for Prince William, the future king of Cordonia." 

"Understood, sir.” Damien was well aware of the complexity of a constitutional monarchy. 

"Now, there's one more thing I need to discuss with you,” Bastien eyed the young agent. 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Madeleine Amaranth, the former queen of Cordonia. I have forwarded her updated dossier to you." 

"Yes, I've read it through.” Damien paused, waiting for more information. 

"Good, because she has expressed malicious intent towards Prince William and Lady Riley, should they return to Cordonia." 

"Understood. I'll ensure her movements are tracked and reported inside and out of the country, sir." 

"Thank you, Damien.” 

"My pleasure, sir.” 

Bastien, looking pleased, leaned back in his chair, checking the time on his watch, as he felt the plane begin its descent. 

Cordonia, Capital 

The jet touched down smoothly on the tarmac, as the engines powered down. The cabin door opened, and the stairs were lowered. 

Riley could feel the warm breeze blow past her as she stepped off the plane. 

Taking a deep breath, Riley looked around. The air was different here. It was fresh and clean. She closed her eyes and let the wind brush her cheeks. 

Liam followed, with William sleeping in his arms.  

"Is everything alright, love?" Liam’s brows were raised in concern, noticing her hesitation. 

"Yes, I'm just taking it all in." Riley, looked down, unable to keep eye contact. 

"Are you sure, Riley? You've been very quiet throughout the entire flight home." 

"I'm fine, Liam. It is just a lot to process. I'm just a little overwhelmed." 

"All right, I understand. Let us get to the palace, so you and William can get settled and rest ... okay?" 

"Yes, thank you, Liam." 

Liam glanced over at Riley with concern as he personally buckled his son into the car seat. It was quite easy for him to see and feel the apprehension in her mood. She could not hide her emotions from him as well as she always thought she could.

Riley had remained noticeably quiet during the ride to the palace as well, looking out at the passing countryside. Liam could not help but wonder if she was having second thoughts about returning to Cordonia, and/or to him. 

As they pulled up to the palace gates, Liam looked over at Riley, noticing a small smile on her face. 

"What is it, love?" Liam spoke softly, reaching for her hand. 

Riley returned his touch with a squeeze. "This place...it's beautiful." 

"Thank you, that, it is. Welcome home." 

“William will be so excited when he wakes up.” Riley glanced at a still sleeping William as the SUV slowed to a stop. 

"I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me.... to have you both here." Liam confessed. 

"You're welcome, Liam. It's the least I can do."  

Liam's heart sank at her words. He hated the distance between them. He wanted to take her in his arms and make everything right, but, for right now, he knew that was not the best strategy. 

He had to accept that things had changed, and their relationship was different now. He had to be patient and give Riley the space she needed. 

But he also had to make her see how important she was to him. He had to show her how much he had missed her ... that he wanted a future with her and William in Cordonia. 

As the SUV door opened for her, Riley felt a sense of Deja vu. This was where she had started her journey with Liam in Cordonia all those years ago. And now, here she was, back again. 

"Do you want me to take you and William to the guest wing, or do you want to stay in my chambers?" 

"I would like to stay with you, if that's okay." 

"Of course, Riley. I would love that." 

It was surreal for Riley as she walked the pristine palace halls towards the Royal Chambers. Liam carried William, who was fast asleep in his arms beside her. 

 The memories of the past times she was here flooded her mind and her heart ached as she pushed the painful memories aside. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. 

As they reached the large double doors of the entrance to the Royal east wing, the guards opened the doors for Liam and Riley to enter. 

Riley stepped inside; the same chambers where she had spent so much time before. The familiar scent of Liam's cologne filled the air, sending a wave of longing for a past time through her mind. 

Walking into her room ... it was exactly as she remembered it. Everything was in its place, from the elegant chandelier hanging above the bed, to the intricate paintings adorning the walls. 

Riley took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked around the room, taking in every detail. 

 She felt a pang of sadness as she remembered those past times. 

After tucking William into his bed in the adjacent room, Liam came in and sat down next to her. He gently placed his hand on hers, and she looked up at him, their eyes meeting. 

"What are you thinking about Riley?"  

"I'm okay, Liam. I was just thinking about how much things have changed since I was here last." 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. "I know it's a lot, but I'm here for you, and I'll help you in any way I can," Liam whispered. 

"Thank you, Liam." 

He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, staring into her eyes intently. "You're welcome, Riley. Always. Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

He moved in to press his lips to hers, and she melted into his kiss. 

It was soft and gentle, and full of longing. 

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "God, Riley, I've missed you." 

"I've missed you, Li." 

He leaned down and kissed her again, deeper this time. 

His tongue swept across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to him. 

Their tongues tangled together in a dance that was familiar and yet new. 

They were no longer the same people they were when they had last been together. They were both older and wiser, and the passion between them burned even brighter. 

Riley pulled away and put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm. 

"Liam, I..." 

"Shhh." 

He placed a finger over her lips. "Don't say anything, Riley. Just feel." 

His lips found hers again, and the world disappeared. There was nothing but the two of them, lost in each other. 

She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

She moaned into his mouth as he slid his hands down her back and pulled her closer. 

He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. 

"Riley," he breathed. "God, I want you so much."

“Liam, I ...” 

Liam pulled back and looked into her eyes, “stay with me tonight.” 

📌All fics & edits: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

📌Liam x Riley, OC: @emersyn-in-cordonia @mainstreetreader @belencha77 @walkerdrakewalker @iluaaa @mysticalfangirl @queenwalton @bascmve01 @umccall71 @choicesfrog @amandablink @ownworldresident

📌Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @choicesjanuary2024

#tessa liam writes #liam rys #the royal romance #riley brooks #trr #king liam #trr fanfic #king liam rys #trr liam x OC #choices fandom #choices the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #choices flashfics #@choicesjanuary2024 #choices monthly challenge #turning the page

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother. Part 30/?

<Part 29<

"I need you to wake-up, My love." Steve whispered, looking down at where you rested your head against his chest, smiling lovingly at you.

The journey to Brook was long, tiring and uncomfortable. Even with a stop off for lunch and to stretch your legs, you still found yourself being lulled to sleep after a few hours as you cuddled up against Steve's warmth. Well, that and because Steve couldn't keep his hands to himself. Not that you were complaining.

You mumbled something incoherent as you snuggled closer to Steve making him chuckle and kissed the top of your head.

"I guess, you don't want my surprise then." He whispered.

You raised your head with a hum, "What surprise?" You asked groggily.

Steve smiled to himself, "Knew that would work." He sat up, untangling himself from you. "C'mon sleepy head. You can go back to sleep soon."

Your brow furrowed as you watched him open the carriage door and get out. "Are we back already?" You asked.

Steve shook his head. "Not quite." He held his hand out and helped you out of the carriage. "This is your surprise." He smiled.

You stood in silence as you looked at the cute (not so) little cottage in front of you that was tucked away behind a wall of trees and rose bushes. It was lit up with an orange glow and smoke pouring out of the chimney, looking warm and cosy.

Steve smiled to himself as he gave you a gentle nudge, encouraging you forward. "I thought this would be a good place for the two of us to hide away for a week or so. Enjoy married life without any worries. Just us." He whispered.

You stepped into the cottage with a grin, "Where are we?"

"Not far from the castle. My hunting cabin isn't far from here."

"It's beautiful... Who does it belong to?" You looked around the place, taking it all in.

Steve smiled as he stepped closer to you, placing his hands on your hips. "You."

You spun around to face Steve with a gasp, "Me?"

Steve nodded. "My father wanted mother to have a quiet place to retreat to if the castle got too much whilst she was carrying me, so he had this place built. Once I was born, it became a place the three of us would use to hide away from the castle..."

Your brow furrowed, "It's not mine then if your father had it built for your mother."

Steve sighed softly, "Sweetheart, it was my mother who gifted it to you... To us. She knows how difficult it can be for a young Princess... She wanted you to have a place that you feel safe in, like she did." He smiled lovingly st ypu as he took yoyr hands in his. "Wha'cha say, happy to spend some time alone with me here, wife?"

You bit you bottom lip and nodded with a giggle, "I certainly am, husband." You wrapped your arms around Steve's neck and kissed him.

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

The sound of birds tweeting and the sun leaking through the drapes slowly aroused you from your sleep just enough for you to sense something was happening around you that could only be described as chaos. You could hear voices, shouting and cursing over the top of one another, heavy footsteps stomping back and forth. You let out a tired groan and rolled over in the large empty bed, frowning as you blindly searched for Steve. You opened your eyes and looked around the room, empty. You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before climbing out of bed and making your way out of the room, in search of your husband.

The cottage wasn't too big that you'd end up lost like you did on your very first visit to the castle, but there were still plenty of rooms to explore.

You fell in love with the cottage the moment your eyes landed on it. It was much bigger than you first thought, but it still managed to have a cosy feel to it.

The room you and Steve were occupying was larger than the others that filled the cottage. It had a four poster bed at the farthest side of the room, a dressing table and chair against the wall opposite the door, a fireplace opposite the bed, as well as having a small closet attached. There was a smaller room opposite that had been used as Steve's when he was much younger and had been turned back into a nursery for when the time arrived for yours and Steve's children to use. A small water closet sat at the end of the hallway on the left that held a large bathtub (big enough for two) and next door to your room was what had been a study that Steve's father used before Steve had it changed into a miniature library for the two of you to use. That, too, had a fireplace that the two of you could sit in front of. At the other end of the hallway was a door that led into the front of the cottage. The door opened up into the sitting room, a large space that had a couple of armchairs in front of another fireplace as well as a dining table by the window that looked out onto the small garden that was filled with rose bushes and trees. To the right of the sitting room was a joining kitchen, and that was where you found your husband and the chaos.

You watched as Steve, Sam and Bucky coughed, trying to wave smoke away from them as they each yelled over one another.

"What on earth is going on?" You asked with a cough, quickly covering your mouth.

The three of them turned towards you like startled deer, panic in their eyes.

When no one answered, you huffed and folded your arms across your chest. "Well?"

"His fault!" Sam and Bucky said in unison as they pointed at Steve.

Steve glared at them, "Is not."

You rolled your eyes as the three of them began to talk over each other once more. "Enough!" You huffed and made your way over to the large wooden door at the front of the cottage that lead out into the garden, "You're like children... Worse than Morgana." You mumbled.

"What are you doing, My love?" Steve asked as he watched you open the door.

"Letting the smoke out so we don't choke to death." You turned back to the three of them. "Perhaps one of you could open the windows?"

Sam and Bucky quickly and began moving around the cottage. Steve stayed in the same spot with his head lowered, chewing on his bottom lip looking a lot like a child that's about to be scolded.

You smiled to yourself as you walked towards him, reminding yourself to tease him later on about it. "What happened?"

Steve opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Bucky and Sam bet him to it.

"His Majesty, was attempting to cook."

"And like it usually does, it ended in disaster." Bucky shook his head with a huff, "I told him to stay out of the kitchen."

Sam nodded, "But His Majesty knows best." Sam rolled his eyes.

You let out a small giggle as Steve continued to glare at them.

It was true, Steve wasn't the best cook. Any time he attempted cooking, something disastrous happened.

"Boys," You stood in front of Steve and placed a comforting hand on his chest as you faced Bucky and Sam. "Could the two of you fetch some more firewood, please?" You smiled sweetly.

The pair nodded before bowing to you and making their exit.

You cleared your throat before you turned back to face Steve. "So... What happened?"

Steve sighed as he gently placed his hands on your waist and tugged you against his chest. "I wanted to bring you breakfast." He frowned. "I don't know what happened. One minute I had everything set, and the next the pan of water boiled over and-"

"Put the fire out?" You asked already knowing the answer. Steve nodded with a pout. You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself cooing at him. How can a man be so soft and adorable, yet feared by so many? You gently cupped his cheeks with your hands and pressed your lips against his softly, letting out a moan as Steve gave your waist a squeeze. "Don't worry about it. It's an easy fix." You smiled at him before slipping out of his arms. "Let's get this cleaned up then we'll cook breakfast together."

Steve raised his eyebrow at you as you began moving things around. "Do you know how to cook?" Steve asked.

You giggled as you looked back at him over your shoulder. "Yes, Steve."

"You do?"

"Don't sound so surprised." You smirked.

"Sorry." Steve blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I just, don't understand how you know?"

"Well, I learnt, Steven." You teased making him roll his eyes.

"I get that smart-ass." He chuckled, coming up beside you. "When?"

"What did you think I did when I wasn't attending sowing circles?"

Steve smiled, "Who taught you?"

"The Castle's cooks." You smiled with a shrug. "Even Dum-Dum taught me how to cook his famous battle stew last year."

Steve's brows raised in surprise just as Sam and Bucky returned. "Dum-Dum gave you his secret recipe?"

"Her Highness cooks it even better than Dum-Dum." Bucky winked at you with a grin making you blush.

Sam nodded and rubbed his belly. "Oh man, what I'd give to have some of that stew."

Steve frowned as he looked at them then at you. "Why have I never tried it?" He pouted.

You turned away from him to hide your smirk before clearing your throat, "You're always busy with meetings when I cook it." You let out a soft sigh.

Steve frowned to himself as he thought back to your visits. He usually did have a few meetings that lasted hours and hours, plenty of time for you to cook Dum-Dum's stew and share it with his men. He can't remember how many times he's found you training with them, even in rain, as you tried to pass the time.

"No matter," You smiled at him. "I'll make it tonight for us all."

Steve chuckled, "Let's focus on breakfast first, love." He kissed your cheek. "Now, tell me what to do."

"Nothing!" Bucky and Sam groaned in unison making Steve glare at them.

You began to laugh, quickly disguising it as a cough and looking away as Steve turned his glare to you. He smiled to himself as he watched you busy yourself before he sent Sam and Bucky another glare.

"Piss off," He mouthed to them, waving his hand around.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head at him as he walked up to you, "What can I do to help, Your Highness?" He asked, sending Steve a wink once you began telling him what to do.

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

You giggled as Steve kissed your bare shoulder, working his way up your neck until you were a giggling mess. "Stop it," You tapped his bicep, pushing slightly to get him off you.

Steve pulled back with a grin. "You're just too sweet," He teased before pressing his lips to yours. He rolled over on to his back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulled you against his chest. Steve panted softly against the top of your head before kissing it. "You know... They won't be here all the time... I promise."

You smiled to yourself, snuggling further into his chest, wrapping your arms tighter around his body as you hiked your leg up over his. "Stop... I had fun today. Besides, I don't mind Bucky and Sam being around."

Steve sighed, "I know you don't... But I wanted it just to be us. I wanted us to have some time together... To get to know each other."

You carefully pushed yourself up so you were looking down at Steve, not care in the world as you let your naked body show as you looked down at your husband lovingly. "We already know each other, darling."

Steve shook his head, "But we're married now..." He smiled as he reached up brushed your hair back as he cupped your cheek. "Things are different."

"How? We're still the same people, Steve."

Steve smiled, "But now I can do this," He gently pulled your face down to his and pressed his lips against yours, easily slipping his tongue past your lips and deepening kiss momentarily before pulling back, "As much as I want." He grinned at you. "As well as other things," He teased.

You lowered your head, trying to hide your face as you blushed. "When you put it like that." You smiled to yourself. "Maybe Bucky and Sam shouldn't be around so much."

@letsdisneythings @smile1318 @readawaythereality @dad-supremedeactivated04291992 @marebare21 @imjustanotherperson @slutforchrisjamalevans @summersong69 @gretavankleep37 @calimoi @noonenuts @nighttimestan @sarahbellesaurus @bloodyinspiredfuck @coffeebooksandfandom @lewisroscoelove @oceansrose2002 @teambarnes72

#chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel #King Steve Rogers x reader #King Steve Rogers #king!Steve Rogers x reader #king!steve rogers x princess!reader #king!steve rogers x princess!stark!reader #steve rogers x reader smut

[deathmetalunicorn1]

One piece characters of your choice getting courted by siren reader? Maybe? Thought it’d be cute

-Besides Jinbei, it was a smart thing to have more than one crew member on the Straw Hats who was an expert in water, and you had joined shortly after meeting Luffy and the rest of his crew on Fishman Island.

-You were a siren, a rare type of mermaid that is semi-aquatic, as in you could gain human legs when you were only a child, unlike other mermaids who could get human like legs once they were older.

-However, no matter which form you were in, you had glittery silver scales that trailed up your arms and the sides of your torso and between yours breasts and up your spine, and if you were in your human form, you had them trailing from your hips to your ankles.

-Like all mermaid types, you were stunningly beautiful and always drew stares wherever you went, and since joining the crew, many grew jealous of Luffy who had three beautiful women on his crew.

-You didn’t care about others, as you were only focused on (Love) and giving him courting gifts, traditional gifts that sirens would get for the male they wanted as a mate, shells, pearls, or large fish or sea beasts to show that you’re a provider.

-Jinbei- was honestly stunned when you gave him the first bright pink conch shell, giving you a grin but not outright rejecting you, “You know I’m an old man right? You could go for someone younger.” Your hands immediately rose to your hips with a pout on your lips, “I don’t want someone younger- you’re the one I want!” You and Jinbei had known each other for years and he knew that you were a fierce warrior but also had a kind and gentle heart. You gave him more gifts, pretty shells and gemstones you found in the ocean, but when you brought the corpse of an octopus Sea King to the surface after going out hunting, Jinbei couldn’t help but laugh loudly as Luffy and the others cheered about having an octopus feast. While you were eating, Jinbei surprised you by putting a light blue conch on you lap, returning your affections. Sanji collapsed to his hands and knees, sobbing comically as you had tackled Jinbei to his back, covering his face with kisses.

-Sanji- when you first met the amorous cook you weren’t completely sure what to make of him, carrying him to the infirmary where his friends were on Fishman Island, “Hey I found this weirdo bleeding out of his nose by the mermaid lounge.” His friends seemed used to his antics, but to you they were new and he was elated when you joined the crew. Nami noticed your lingering stares on Sanji and warned you that he was a pervert and that he flirted with everything, but Robin spoke up, “Who knows, if he has a partner, he might mellow out with the flirting.” That’s when you decided to start courting Sanji, bringing him large fishes and other things you had caught while in the ocean. You were beginning to pout as he didn’t seem to be accepting your gifts, as he would just thank you with a huge smile and make what you caught for everyone. When you presented him with a pale pink conch, he admired it, holding it up, “I’ve never seen this color before! It’s beautiful!!” your eyes sparkled and when you deflated in defeat when he didn’t accept your feelings again, going to Chopper to hug him while you pouted. Jinbei chuckled, seeing this and went and told Sanji that you had been courting him and giving him gifts. Sanji burst out of the kitchen door, leaving a perfect hole of his body as he ran for you, yelling out your name as stars were in his eyes, realizing that you had been courting him. Nami and Robin were happy that he mellowed out with the flirting with them at least, and the two of you did your best to keep your nauseatingly sweet affection behind closed doors after he finally accepted your feelings.

-Brook- when you first met him you were sparkly eyed, as you had never seen anything like him before, and he adored your attention on him, melting under your affections. Your first meeting with him went better than it usually did with females, when he asked you if you would show him your panties and you responded back, “What are those?” despite being a skeleton, he and Sanji both flew back, blood spurting from their noses. You learned, after joining the crew, what panties were as Nami and Robin had to teach you to wear them when you were in your human form. You grew close to Brook, he was very sweet to you, always played music, and never failed to make you laugh. When you started with the courting gifts, bringing him shells, while he adored them, he didn’t seem to understand the meaning behind them, which made you pout, and instead of explaining it to him, you just tried harder. Jinbei was the one who realized this, chuckling softly at you and told Brook what you were going. When you brought back a pale pink conch shell, a bright smile on your face, Brook pulled out into his arms, “If you’re all right with a dead man, I will do my best to make you happy.” You beamed with elation and since you were together, he asked you to show him your panties and you almost killed him as you had forgotten them that day as you had been out in the water for most of the day. At least the two of you were happy!

#one piece #jinbei #brook #sanji #straw hat pirates

[jerzwriter]

Besides their parents, which adults are the children of your pairings closest to?

Hey Nonny! Thanks for the ask and (this is a repeat tonight!) I'm so sorry I took so long to answer!

In Tobias x Casey's world, their three girls have different people they're closest to. Their eldest, Samantha, is very, very close with her grandmother, Vivian Carrick. She is like little Vivian, and Tobias often jokes that the only reason Vivian loves Casey so much is because she delivered Vivian's mini-me. She is close with Casey's mom, Rose, as well, but nothing like Vivian. Brooke is the sweet child who wants to like and be liked by most people. As a result, she has several go-to adults, including all of her grandparents, Tobias's brother, her Uncle Jordan, Uncle Ethan, and his wife-to-be, Aunt Eva (OC), and her Aunt Sienna are the ones she is closest to. Kayla always had a very different personality from the other children, and while she is loving and gets along pretty well with most, she never seemed exceptionally close to anyone (later on, they find out she is on the autistic spectrum, and that's part of the reason why.) However, @mydemonsdrivealimo's Jensen Valentine and Bryce are good friends of Tobias and Casey in this world, and Jensen and Kayla had a special bond right from the start. Everyone found it odd because Jensen loved the girls, but kids aren't really his thing, but Kayla was like his emotional support baby, he'd always have her on his hip, and she'd just be there all chill. That continues through life. When Kayla is older, she comes out as demiro/demisexual, and she bonds with Bryce a lot during that period since he is a huge support to her.

Now - I also have the MOC World (Merida, Olivia, Casey) with @lilyoffandoms and @storyofmychoices. In this world, I see Samantha being very close with Ethan and Merida. Samantha is a very serious, practical child, and Ethan finds that very endearing. Like, the fact that she sees educational gifts and trips to museums as the ultimate gifts? That makes her a-ok in his book. I think he turns her into an opera fan. Brooke would be very close with Olivia and Bryce. And Kayla would be closest with Merida. In all reality, all of the girls see Merida and Olivia as their second moms, it's a beautiful thing! <3

Ethan/Kaycee: They have one daughter, Emma, and I think she's extremely close to all four of her grandparents... Alan, Naveen, Rose & David. She'd also be very close with her mom's BFF, Sienna.

Trystan/Carolina do not have children (though I do think there will be children in their lives), and while I envision children for Eli/Zoe, as well as in my Eli/Troy/Zoe AU, I have not put as much thought into this yet! :)

Thanks for the ask, and your patience, Nonny!

#open heart #crimes of passion #wake the dead #tobias carrick #tobias x casey #ethan ramsey #ethan x kaycee #eli sipes #troy hassan #eli x zoe #eli x zoe x troy #Original Character Children #asks answered

[luffyvace]

I just need ussop x male reader head cannons I can never find any cus I can definitely see them kissing and then ussop bragging about it as is he wasn’t sweating and race red please 🙏 I love your work it makes me smile at how silly it is smt 💙

I KNOWWWW I never see any usopp x male reader!!! 💥💥

awww that scenario is so cute and true <3

THANK YOU!!! That’s so kind of you to say! Yesss I’m so glad you enjoy my siliness because my writing always has been and always will be ;D 💖💖

Honestly Usopp probably isn’t fazed much about the fact that your a male

he’s educated on lgbtq+ and if you hc him to be apart of them that’s probably why!

So he’s not much flustered or surprised at the fact that he likes a guy just the fact that he likes YOU.

and your!- just!- yoursoepicsoawesomesoincrediblesobreathtakingsostunningsoastoundingsoextrodinaryso-

LIKE YOUR JUST SO COOL!-

i mean I guess he could’ve just said that buuuut

’cool’ is not cool enough of a word to describe you😉

alr that was a terrible dad joke but anyway-

thats not the point! The point is!….it really doesn’t matter your gender he just thinks your phenomenal (pan usopp? I’ll let you decide…)

the strawhats also don’t mind!

now every time I write they’re reactions it’s the same so I’m not doing it all over again- 😆

just a few honorable mentions :)

first off Robin knew it’d happen all along and nami got paid from the bets of it

Sanji doesn’t get the appeal but he knows every man isn’t the same (my boy zoro scarred him) and so is everyone’s preferences. (he supports)

luffy suggests to throw a party (just as an excuse to have one) but it’s not a bad excuse so you guys through one anyway

and yeah that’s all your getting 🥰

usopp tells the strawhats (probably luffy first) that you two are dating

he’s so excited when he does 💗

as soon as you say yes he’s running off to find everyone, (again- luffy first) shouting at the top of his lungs that you two are an item

okay on to your scenario~ 😊

*chuu*~ usopp gives you a little kiss on the lips (for the first time)

his face gets as red as a rose while standing there computing that he singlehandedly just had his first kiss with you and in general

you blinked and he’s already bolted off to go brag to the rest of the crew

specifically sanji, luffy, chopper and franky/brook

why them specifically?

Sanji because he didn’t even get to kiss at least Charlotte + plus he got his first kiss and partner before him

luffy & chopper because those are his loser bsfs

franky and brook? because he’s way younger than them and he got his first kiss before them 😂😂

he basically couldn’t stop boasting about it for a week straight

even then he’ll bring it up every chance he gets

”you may be strong sanji but at least I’ve had my first kiss” 😁☝️

his love languages are physical touch & gift giving (quality time too)

he will never not be shy about physical touch 💗

he just never gets used to it

his affections? (🤗) he lives for every form of physical touch ever from you

kiss on the cheek/forehead/lips/temple/hand, cuddles, linking pinkies/hold hands, footsie, high fives, shoulders/knees touches

you name it he wants it

seriously even the little stuff- generally before you start dating

Because then he’s even more shy/nervous around you

I haven’t mentioned that but he definitely is

he doesn’t know what to not do or how to act

yes those precisely bc he worries he’ll screw smth up by doing smth you don’t like

as far as how to act he simply doesn’t know what to do with himself around you

he becomes very self conscious

I’m sure quite a few peeps do in front of they’re crush ^v^

making you laugh counts as a love language for him

he loves the sound of your laughter. it lets him know he’s making you happy

he’s really worried about being a good boyfriend

so when he’s able to make you laugh he knows he’s doing something right

with quality time it’s all about the fact that he looooves to be around you!

whenever your away?

*goes to find you/asks around about your whereabouts* “hey m/n whatcha doin?” 😋

don’t get me wrong he’s not clingy the man still has hobbies—you know working in the usopp factory n such

But he does like to spend a good portion of his day with his lover 💛 (who doesn’t?)

gift giving is heavily his thing since he can give you his tinctures

you know cuz he likes to make stuff?

especially if your weak

then you can defend yourself

and he won’t have to worry about you <3

even if you are strong he’ll still make you stuff :P

maybe something that can help in battle but since you can handle yourself it likely protain to other things you like

if your strong he 💯 runs to you to protect him when danger comes

”YEAH!! M/N’S GONNA BEAT YOU UP! YOU BETTER NOT MESS WITH US!!”

(he’s saying this as he runs away :3)

if he ever manages to save you he’d be so proud of himself and brag to everyone about it

”yeah!! I saved m/n’s BUTT!” 😼

he keeps retelling the story more dramatic a each time and the only one still buying it is chopper <3

even luffy don’t believe him no more 🗿

If your weak he will protect you with everything he’s got!

even if that ain’t much 💪

which it’s essentially just him telling you to run, stalling, then running away himself

He likely leads the threat to someone who can defeat them and takes the credits 😎

random :)

he is most certainly simping if you have abs

like he would just loooove to watch you work out 😍😍🙏

if you met back in syrup village he probably followed you everywhere

like you were his only friend before the usopp pirates type thing

Btw you were the vice captian of said group

If you’ve known each other for that long it’s likely love and not just a crush by now but you label it 🤷‍♀️

if not then when you helped save his village he prob developed a crush on you then

how bravely you fought 😍 (even if you were crying like him)

Or maybe he goes to your island and he finds you very cool (even if your not physically strong)

either way he romanticizes how you really are and develops a crush on that idea of you. BUT- dw he DOES genuinely love you ‼️

quick mention on kaya- lets say him, you and kaya were just close friends and they weren’t crushing on each other

you, chopper, usopp and luffy are a group- ain’t no doubt about it c;

y’all are always being silly 😜

If your the mature one of the group your gonna go crazy 🤗🤗 not crazier than nami

Pranks also happen a lot (water bucket on door, stealing stuff, ding dong ditching etc.. little harmless stuff 😚)

overall usopp boyfriend review and rating? 100/100 green flag please date him

Usopp def needs some more content ! Male reader particularly

Hope you enjoy lovely nonny~♡

#anime #anime and manga #luffyvace #anime headcanons #fluff headcanons #fluff #one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #straw hat pirates #usopp #god usopp #one piece usopp #with: usopp #op usopp #strawhat pirates #ussop #usopp one piece #usopp x reader #usopp op #one piece x male reader #one piece x you #sogeking #sniper king usopp #usopp headcanons #cute headcanons #thank you for the ask! #thank you for submitting !! #thank you for the submission! #thank you for reading

[stereopticons]

2023 writing round-up

Rules: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones you're most excited about.

Thanks for the tags, @hippolotamus @rmd-writes @kiwiana-writes. This has been a rough year but hey, we've almost made it through.

January

we were loud like love [david/patrick, E, 5k]

David wears a collar. Tenderness and filth ensues.

the world would make sense again (if i held your hand) [twylexis, T, 2.7k]

Twyla finally tries to get over her fear of flying to go visit Alexis. Alexis tries to make it easier for her.

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky [david/patrick, T, 1.2k]

A small, late-night moment of domestic bliss in the kitchen of the cottage.

puzzling it out [david/patrick, E, 1.9k, part of the wordplay series]

A wrong answer on a crossword puzzle prompts an interesting discovery for Patrick.

February

with a hand on your side of the bed [david/patrick, T, 2.3k]

Five times David falls asleep without Patrick, and one time they wake up together.

March

paint me up (you're my favorite color) for @blackandwhiteandrose [david/patrick, E, 2.5k]

David wears nail polish. Patrick has a lot of feelings about it.

let my love fix you up for @rosedavid [david/patrick, T, 1.7k]

After Patrick is injured while hiking, David takes care of him.

April

your secret's safe with me for @scrarefest [stevie/ruth, M, 3.1k]

Stevie enlists David's help to plan a surprise party for Ruth. It goes about as well as one would expect.

let our shadows fall away like dust for @hippolotamus [david/patrick, E, 3.2k]

David has a bad day. Patrick makes it better the best way he knows how.

May

tangle and stretch [david/patrick, T, 3.3k]

Patrick sees David on a magazine as a child, and David weaves his way into Patrick's life without either of them realizing it.

June

in the long tresses of your hair (i am a babbling brook) [david/patrick, T, 1.3k]

An airplane meet-cute-ish in which Patrick finds himself obsessed with David's hair.

July

(B)13 Reasons Why [david/patrick, T, 3.1k]

collab with @blackandwhiteandrose. Patrick gives David a gift for their 13th wedding monthiversary.

i'll miss you from this place that i stand [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

After the wedding, all the Roses leave Schitt's Creek within a few weeks of one another. David doesn't handle it very well.

catch my breath to breathe your name [david/patrick, E, 358]

Patrick and David have explored a lot of things together. At the heart of it all is love.

August

never knew a home until i found your hands [alex/henry, E, 1.1k]

Henry and Alex get a little handsy (and have some feelings) at the lakehouse.

touch me [david/patrick, T, 546]

An incomplete list of the ways David and Patrick touch each other during the wedding.

September

knock on wood [david/patrick, E, 3.4k, part of the every year we get a bit closer series]

Five wood-related fifth anniversary gifts that Patrick gives to David, and one (or two) that David gives to Patrick.

you can tell everybody (that this is your song) [david/patrick, T, 1k]

A story of falling in love and David and Patrick trying to find their way to each other told through a series of drabbles inspired by song lyrics.

crossed words and open hearts for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, E, 2.6k, part of the wordplay series]

Five times David needs help with a crossword puzzle and one time he doesn't.

parallax for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, T, 5k]

collab with @indestructibleheart.

Patrick doesn't have an eye for art; he doesn't pay much attention to painting or sculptures. But he likes photography. Well, he likes a photographer in particular, anyway. The mysterious artist known only as D.R. — a black-and-white film photographer from New York — may have disappeared from the world years ago... but Patrick still treasures the one print he'd purchased during a business trip in the city. After all, it may have given him the courage to break his own heart, move to a city he'd never heard of, and meet the love of his life. He hasn't thought about in years. That is, until he's picking up lunch at the café and something familiar catches his eye. The tone, the light — he'd know an original D.R. photo anywhere. "Oh, this?" Twyla grinned, pointing to the frame on the restaurant wall. "David gave me that."

October

everybody's waiting for the next surprise [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

Stevie drags David to a haunted house on Halloween. They run into a kind stranger in a blue button down in the group ahead of them. You know how this story goes.

November

my misspent youth and my slow decline [david/patrick, T, 800]

Four characters reflect on something that haunts them through four double drabbles. Or, the author projects feelings onto an unprecedented four characters at once.

December

ribbons and bows [david/patrick, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for Schitt's Creek

my only wish is one more year (and then i want them all) [alex/henry, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for RWRB

And, god willing, two Frozen Over fics and one RWRB 5+1 before the end of the year.

I haven't been tracking who's done this, so apologies for tagging you if you already have! @apothecarose @chelle-68 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @lilythesilly @nontoxic-writes @blackandwhiteandrose and anyone else who wants to share!

#sorry for the long post #2023 writing round up #schitt's creek #rwrb

[aramais]

WELCOME BACK TO GALLOWAY. YOU NEVER REALLY LEFT.

a bitb webweave, made as @theblacktiecacti's gift for @jrwi-art-exchange :3

silent hill 2, team silent / two slow dancers, mitski / untitled (6.24.15), robert ferrandini / little deprivation in the big north woods, melissa crowe / red backdrop, danny mcraw / bayou, jeannie motherwell / another antipastoral, vivee francis / prom gown #1, tom chambers / annihilation, alex garland / ivy bridge 1, susan derges / signalis, rose engine / silhouette of the welcome sign near the brooklyn bridge, thibautre / ride the cyclone, brooke maxwell & jacob richmond

#jrwi #jrwi blood in the bayou #jrwi bitb #tw body horror

[kohabielnin]

Ok so- hear me out- an optimistic!reader x whoever you want, like their trying their best to keep everyone happy/sane in the manor :0

Good morning/afternoon/night my angel, I think you read my mind, even if you were going to do something like that for Gatto, but... doing it with the grumpy people in the mansion seems to be more fun

• I wouldn't call him grumpy, at least not as much as others, however, he gets irritated with other people's company so... yeah, what to do,

• He finds your cheerful, playful and silly nature cute, even though he hated it at first since you always disturbed his work,

• The first person he looks for after losing a match and Hunter ignores him is you, yes, he gets angry if Hunter ignores him, Eli finds it very worrying, even,

• The ways to cheer him up are quite simple, like caresses or a gift like some candy or roses,

• He can get grumpy as incredibly easy as it seems, but you and Brooke's feathers have a calming effect on him,

• It's very difficult to live with him because of his bad mood, but I would say that you don't care that much about it.

#identity v x reader #aesop carl x reader #identity v #aesop carl

[crypt-tids]

A Gift Unto the King

16

The Pendulum Swings

A gentle breeze shuffled through the trees as the sun rapidly approached the golden hour. The journey had been long and tiresome, but thankfully, uneventful. Save, at least, for a small mishap with an unassuming little pebble that somehow landed Angelique with a terribly painful sprained ankle. Alistair had done his best to heal it, but the most he’d been able to manage was to lessen the pain—he’d thus made a mental note to practice that spell more later.

Angelique rocked back and forth, her wavy, red hair bobbing, as the mule traversed the uneven ground. Alistair tightly clung to the reins, guiding the large animal over the rocks. A short distance away, emerged the faint babbling of a modest brook, and just beyond, a path widened, leading deeper into the forest.

Upon reaching the water’s edge, Alistair stopped the mule, and grabbed their nearly empty canteens from their saddle bag. Removing the caps, he knelt down, allowing the crystal clear water to flow into them. Once filled, he pushed himself up from the ground, brushed the dirt from his knees, and handed the canteens to his sister.

“Purify the water, please.” He directed her, and she did as she was told.

With a moment’s concentration, and a wave of her hand, the water slowly rose out of the containers, suspended freely in front of her. She closed her eyes, and drew her hand to her lips. Softly, she hummed, the vibrations trembling against her delicately closed hand. Then, she raised her pinky and ring finger, forming a widening tunnel through her curled fingers and palm, pulled a deep breath, and blew. Hot air swirled around the suspended blob of water, and within seconds, the water began to boil.

When the last of the air had left her lungs, she drew a replenishing inhale, and willed the pure water back into their respective containers. Alistair handed her the caps, which she replaced, before shoving the freshly filled canteens back into their pouch.

Merely fourteen and she had already mastered such complex heat magic. Alistair found himself endlessly impressed with her on a near constant basis—which Angelique took great pride in, and would occasionally nag him about whenever he fell short in his own spellwork. He never minded it, though. He wanted her to maintain as much confidence as her heart could bear, because he knew that time would humble her, just as it inevitably humbled all healers.

Cool water splashed as they trudged through the creek, soaking Alistair up to his knees. The mule huffed as a few pebbles gave way, before finding his hooves on solid ground once again. Angelique tightly clung to the equine’s short mane to hold herself steady.

Clambering onto the bank, Alistair regained his balance, and tugged at the reins to guide the mule from the water. The water soaking through his pants and boots grew increasingly more uncomfortable with each step, but he did his best to ignore it. When Angelique noticed his discomfort, she waved her hand and, as though pulling a thread from a quilt, forced the water from his clothes and boots. The water swirled around him briefly before she released her hold on it, splashing it onto the ground.

“Thank you.” Alistair nodded towards his sister.

“Would it kill you to take care of yourself for a change?” Angelique groaned, rolling her eyes.

Alistair shrugged, and continued tugging the mule along.

The sun had all but vanished by the time they reached the clearing at the end of the path. Massive oak trees reached towards the blackening sky. Glowing mushrooms lined the path, growing over the bark of fallen timber. It was peaceful, and beautiful, and grand.

“Al.” A timid voice rang through the quiet.

Alistair whipped back towards his sister, who found her wide eyes fixed on the trees, her body rigid. Following her eye-line, he caught the shimmering silver glimmer of a sharpened arrow-head, aimed directly at them. The more he scanned the trees, the more arrows appeared.

Instinctively, Alistair raised his hands, hoping they’d understand. A small group of elves, all wearing similarly modest attire, cautiously approached the young witches, weapons still drawn. Alistair could sense his sister’s unease, though she maintained her composure.

The elves spoke to them in a language they’d never heard before. A language that flowed smoother than sand through an hourglass, with a melody no bird could ever dream of imitating. It was beauty captured in words. The expressions on their faces, however, proved that those words were not an extension of welcomed invitation.

“They wish to know why we’re here.” Angelique whispered.

“How do you know that?” Alistair whispered back through the side of his mouth.

“I don’t.” She explained. “It’s their energy. They’re on guard, but haven’t moved to kill us yet. So, I think that’s what they’re asking us about.”

“And how am I supposed to answer?” He shot back with a forceful whisper, attempting not to alarm the armed elves before them.

“How should I know?! I don’t speak elvish!”

Alistair rolled his eyes, refocusing on the elves, and a silver-tipped spear that was approaching a little too close for his personal comfort.

“We’re healers.” Alistair spoke after a moment. “We’ve come to learn.”

The elves anxiously glanced at each other.

Of course. Alistair thought to himself, sarcastically. “I’m very open to suggestions, Angel.” He whispered.

Angelique sighed, and slowly slid off of the mule’s back, gingerly landing on the ground, ensuring not to place weight on her injured foot. She lifted her empty hands, then gestured to the saddlebag, before slowly slipping her hand into one of the pockets. Gently, she removed a small leather pouch, and dumped a small pile of seeds into her other hand. Cupping her hands together, she pulled them to her lips, and slowly blew into them. Then, she removed her hands from her lips, and slowly unclasped them. As her hand rose upwards, the seeds began to sprout. Roots draped over her fingers as small green stalks emerged from the seed shells. Within a few moments, small purple flowers began to bloom, the fresh lavender scent filling the air.

Taking a careful step forward, Angelique joined her brother, extending her arm to present the freshly grown flowers. She swallowed hard, giving her brother an apprehensive glance.

After a few moments, the spear aimed at them cautiously lowered, and the elf accepted the plants, handing them to another elf at their side. Given an approving nod, the witches both released the tense breaths they were unaware they’d been holding, and their bodies began to relax.

The elf that had accepted the flowers, raised their arm, and with two fingers, beckoned an elf behind them to approach. Reaching into their robes, they produced four iron binding cuffs. They resembled rounded shackles without chains, but with a much more refined execution, almost as though they could be genuine jewelry.

Swinging them open on their hinges, the elf slapped them onto each of the witches’ wrists, magically welding them shut. Immediately, Angelique and Alistair sensed the overwhelming fatigue expanding throughout their bodies as the cuffs suppressed their magical abilities. Angelique gave her older brother a worried glance, which he tried to reassure, to little avail.

The elves directed them to follow, and with three elves following closely behind, they did as they were told.

“Well, they didn’t kill us.” Alistair whispered lightly.

“Yet.” Angelique added.

As they entered the village, they found themselves surrounded by lush greenery and fragrant flowers. Cottages had been built into the trees, connected by a network of woven wooden bridges and stairways. They almost seemed as though they were simply a part of the trees themselves, and always had been.

Elves peered out of their windows and doorways, down at their unexpected visitors as they passed, many holding leery expressions. With each hardened stare, it was beginning to feel more and more like the final waltz to a burning stake.

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Angelique asked in a hushed whisper.

Alistair clenched his jaw and lightly shook his head. His heart pounded furiously, and he was doing everything in his power to keep his little sister from noticing—unfortunately, she was a bit too observant to miss it.

The village slowly disappeared to their rear, and once again, they were marching through uninhabited woodland. The shuffling of their feet against the dirt and fallen leaves seemed to dissipate into the vast, darkened wood in a way that made them feel incredibly small and alone. Trees rose above them with a grandeur that was nearly impossible to comprehend. In that moment, Alistair had never felt closer to an insect, navigating a world much too large for it.

Giving her a quick glance, Alistair noticed Angelique beginning to hobble with more frequency, drawing more tense breaths through her clenched teeth. Stopping, he grabbed her arm, and tugged her close. The young witch wrapped an arm around her back and crouched, positioning his other arm at the back of her knees.

“Jump.” He directed, and she did as she was told.

Catching her, he lifted her body up to carry her, her slender arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“I was fine.” She spoke quietly.

“Is that why you jumped?” Alistair smirked, which made his sister frown. “Now isn’t the time to be stubborn.”

She sighed, and nodded, before allowing herself to be carried in silence.

As the trees began to open, there came a faint trickling sound, like running water over a ledge. The sunlight had nearly disappeared, leaving only natural bioluminescence and lanterns to guide the way through the dampening glow of approaching evening.

Before them, amidst the mushrooms and fireflies, rested a beautiful spring, with an aura so intense it nearly seemed to be glowing itself. Its very essence encapsulated the soul in a way that could only be described as divine.

But there was more to it than that. A depth of darkness and fear, tugging at their sleeves, with a power neither witch had ever had the pleasure—or displeasure—of being in the presence of. Whatever held domain over this spring was ancient, and powerful, and most certainly not of this realm.

The elf in the lead turned to face her companions. Her pale skin shimmered a warm gold from the lantern light at her side. Eloquently, she spoke, beckoning the young witches forward.

Giving each other an uneasy glance, the siblings cautiously approached the elf, mere feet from the edge of the sparkling spring. The energy radiating from the water sent ripples of anxiety throughout their bodies, and their hearts pounded.

With a graceful wave of the hand, the elf directed them to enter the pool. Slowly, the witches took an apprehensive step forward, the cool water dancing around their ankles. The forest seemed to fall into silence, as if even the crickets dared not speak.

But something about this was itching in Alistair's brain. Somehow, it felt dreadfully familiar, and the longer they waited, the more he thought about it. Just when he thought he’d exhausted every ounce of his recollection, it came to him. Suddenly, the gravity of the situation rained down on him, and shivers ran up his spine.

This was it, the end of it all. They were going to die.

Carmilla laid rigidly on the plush bed, her head stiffly pressed into the soft down pillow. Her heart pounded in her chest with a ferocity she was having difficulty controlling.

“Try to relax.” Alistair spoke calmly, as he walked over to her side.

“Has that ever worked?” Carmilla sarcastically asked.

“No.” Alastair replied. “Why do you think I burn incense?” He smirked.

Carmilla huffed through her nose and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply, allowing the warm lavender scent to fill her lungs, and gradually, the pounding of her heart lessened.

“You know, it is a bit early to do this kind of energy reading.” Alistair pulled a quartz pendulum from a brown leather pouch, and clasped both hands tightly around it, allowing its thin, silver chain to delicately drape over his fingers. “It is quite possible there will be no confirmation.”

“I am aware.” Carmilla flatly agreed.

Alistair shrugged, and pulled his clasped hands to his mouth, where he quietly whispered to the crystal pendulum. Carmilla couldn’t quite make out the words, but recognized the cadence of an old spell from the world before.

“Elvish?” She asked with uncertainty.

“It is.” Alistair pulled the pendulum away, letting it slip from his hands, catching the silver chain between his fingers. “You speak it?”

“Not much of it, no. No one does anymore.” She sighed heavily. “During the first war, most of our old documents were destroyed. Elvenwood only has a small number of them left in our archives. Sadly, most of the elders that could still read them died long ago.”

“It’s a shame, really. It truly was a beautiful language.” Alistair dangled the pendulum over Carmilla’s lower belly.

“How did you come to know it?”

“My sister and I did a lot of traveling when we were younger. Any healer worth their weight does, at least.” Alistair replied, focusing on the pendulum. “There’s a small village of elves to the north. They live amongst the trees.” He smiled softly. “It was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.”

“The Elvijah.” Carmilla returned.

“You know them?”

“Mm-” Carmilla nodded. “When the war divided the continent, some of the elves migrated north and settled there. ‘Elvijah’ was the old elvish word for our race.” She sighed. “I wasn’t sure there were any of them left.”

“The village was thriving last I saw it.” Alistair assured, watching as the pendulum started to sway.

“I’m glad.” Carmilla smiled. “But, I’m surprised they trusted you. Elves tend to be wary of others, especially witches.”

“I never said they trusted us.” Alistair laughed. “They nearly killed us twice.”

Carmilla snickered to herself, some of the tension leaving her body as the conversation progressed.

“Luckily, Angelique always had a bit more of a gift for flower language than I. She’d always carry flower seeds with her, wherever she went—still does. So, she gave them Lavender.”

“And they accepted them?” Carmilla raised a brow, an impressed grin slowly spreading across her face.

“They did.” Alistair nodded, closely watching the slight movements of the pendulum. “However, we were forced to wear binding cuffs while in the village.”

“Ah, that doesn't surprise me.” Carmilla returned her gaze to the wooden beamed ceiling above her. “How long were you there?”

“Nearly two months.”

“With binding cuffs?!” She shot back, incredulously.

Alistair nodded.

“It was a bit like having an itch you can’t scratch, to be honest. Absolute torture.” He chuckled.

“No elf has ever survived that long without going insane. The Elvijah created them thousands of years ago as punishment for those that strayed from the righteous path. I don’t believe Elvenwood has even so much as thought of using them in over two centuries.” Carmilla sighed, fingers lightly picking at the blanket beneath her. “Not that we’ve had much reason to use them, but, it was still a bit… barbaric.”

“It is,” Alistair agreed solemnly, “but elves are a bit different from witches. Most of our magic is simply harnessed and manipulated from the energy around us. Very little of it actually resides within us. Elves on the other hand, are the incarnation of genuine magic. It’s as much a part of you as air is to our lungs. Without it-”

“We have no self.” Carmilla finished, her voice low.

“Precisely.” Alistair nodded. “So for us, the cuffs were more or less simply an aggravation. Eventually, I’m sure it would’ve worn us away, but we had no intention of staying that long.” The pendulum started to rotate in a tight circle. “The healing springs, however, that was the most terrified I’d ever been in my entire life.” Alistair shook his head with a small smile.

“You’ve… been to a healing spring?” Carmilla’s face fell into delicate curiosity.

Alistair nodded, maintaining focus on the pendulum.

“It was breath-taking,” he reminisced, “in more ways than one.” He finished with a smirk.

“There’s a healing spring in Elvenwood, but I could never bring myself to go.”

“Why’s that?” Alistair asked, the pendulum’s movements widening slightly.

“I was always terrified the fae would deem me unworthy of bathing in it.” She half laughed.

“Someone with your strength, and heart, could never be deemed unworthy by the fae.” Alistair spoke kindly, pulling the pendulum away from Carmilla’s belly.

“How can you be so sure?” She asked, sitting up in bed.

“Because neither me, nor my sister, died in the waters of the healing spring,” he set the pendulum down, carefully, before continuing, “and I know for a fact that you couldn’t possibly be less worthy than us.”

Carmilla smiled softly, and nodded. The thought had never occurred to her that Alistair could’ve been deemed unworthy. Healers were usually such wholesome folk, but the average witch, on the other hand, wasn’t necessarily in the same vein.

“The energy signature was weak, as expected, but certainly undeniable.” Alistair changed the subject, packing the pendulum back into its leather pouch, and turning back to face the young elf. “Congratulations are in order, I imagine.”

“Thank you.” Carmilla replied quietly as she pushed herself up from the bed, new nerves beginning to race through her heart.

“I can do another energy reading for you in a few weeks.” Alistair offered, walking the queen to the door.

Carmilla nodded, giving the witch a small smile, before exiting the room.

As the door shut behind her, she felt almost as though her legs would give out, and she leaned back against it to steady herself.

“Carmilla?” Vin quickly approached her from where he’d been anxiously waiting, and gently took her hand in his.

As his eyes scanned over her, she slowly lifted her doe-eyed gaze, and her chin began to quiver slightly.

“What did he say?” Vin whispered, brushing a ringlet from her soft face.

Carmilla couldn’t bring herself to speak, instead, she just nodded, drawing a shaky breath. In that moment, a deep well of jumbled emotions consumed her, swallowing her whole, and she didn’t have the faintest idea how to climb out of the pit.

Pulling her into a tight embrace, Vin gently stroked the back of her head as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“I don’t understand…” She whispered, more to herself than to Vin. “It happened, just as it should have, so… why am I not relieved?”

Vin sighed. Truthfully, he hadn’t been soothed by the news either. By all accounts, he should’ve been elated. This child was the promise for which the safety and prosperity of his people rested, and its conception was the only thing that guaranteed to hold this already shaky alliance together. But, as he held the young queen in his arms, he too found himself drowning. No longer could he look at this as just a promise, or a concept. It was real, and it was there, nestled between him and a woman he did not love.

“Because,” Vin spoke after a moment, “it shouldn’t have happened this way.”

#artist #mpreg #art #oc #fpreg #a gift unto the king #knightau #writing #vampire #werewolf #elf #dark fantasy

[azure-cherie]

Pick a card : Intuitive reading

Poems from the divine𑁍 Blessings your way !!

ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩

Disclaimer : This is my third time doing an intuitive tarot reading so don't set anything on stone , if you do not resonate please choose another pile , i would really like it if you tell me whether you resonate .

I receive best messages through poetry and automatic writing , so I would firstly present you with the poem that I received and then decifer a meaning for you , you can also have your own interpretation , the best things about metaphors are that they are metaphors so they are tangible according to you . I'll give a very general what I understand meaning .

🍀 Take a deep breath , meditate and choose the picture you are attracted to :

🔮Pile 1 :

"Up in the palm trees their lies sweet love

Candy crush skies , benevolent heat up

Could you wait honey for some time

Trying won't give it a mind

Give me seconds for i shall show you virtues

Be by a brook

Cry release help

Curated cannons for your hater

Sweet love of mine you are divine"

Interpretation :

Are you anxious about something?Did you sleep well? Palm trees symbolise money , victory , triumph , richness etc . I think climbing signifies you are going through a not so good time right now , you are asked to release whatever you are holding back , as you release you will find more self love , self worth and most probably money . You also might see the world through rose coloured glasses , beware of who you serve your kindness , because most people have only learnt how to take . You also might have new love on the way , the person would be rich and adorable and will bestow you with loads of kindness , or generally it could mean you start loving yourself unconditionally . Are you in anticipation of something , maybe a material or a person , if you are , do not obsess over it too much , because it's meant for you . You will be blessed with wisdom . Try going to a beach or any water entity , it may help you find peace and serenity . You could also try cleansing your mind if you're fogged , use essential oils , subliminals , yoga etc . If you are holding yourself back or have dealt with trauma try healing it . With curated cannons , justice would be served to you , i think recently you had a breakup or some of your friendships ended and maybe whoever is it might be thinking about you too much and they may be disrupting your auric field , you are also told that you are indeed a strong entity in this planet , so never hold yourself back and if you want to manifest something it will be served to you .

Additional : "drop that dumbass " , "break up with your gf , coz I'm bored" , " time heals" , " All you want is yours"

A shuffled song for you :

🔮Pile 2:

Lovely gifts for my favourite courtesan

Your hardwork will pay off

Believe in yourself

For you shall find

What you really need

Creativity bestows upon you like dream rain

Rainbows now for wars are over

Mother oh mother look at your daughter

Painted in all pearl shades

Mary prayed the rosary for your shape

Chariot calmness

Baby bye

Interpretation :

Spirits love you , your energy , your vibe . If you are working on something for a long time and you are suspicious if that will do you any good , yes it will your treats are on the way in the form of promotions , peace money etc . If you are confused about anything you are soon to gain clarity . I think you are very creative and the process is almost very subconscious to you , you maybe blessed in a creative field , you have a creative profession as well . I think you had chaos going on in your life regarding your job or career , you are divinely guided and all of the 7 colours are going to bless you , 7 could be significant to you. Maybe a feminine figure was your support system or she didn't believe in you , she will start to see how amazing things have turned out for you . Everyone is going to be proud of you . You could as well paint , you are attracting good luck and gaining emotional intelligence . Mary may be relevant to you , you are blessed and your angels worked in your favour so you could come this far . If you were working out for a long time , you will receive your desired results . For a long time you had to do everything for yourself but now the action is over so take rest and enjoy . Baby bye could simply mean a disclosure or it could mean you are cutting off people who no longer serve Your purpose .

A shuffled song for you :

🔮Pile 3:

Upheaval your weapons this is a rising

Water in your eyes fire in your soul

Holy blood it's an end now

Truest of yourself you've found

In darkest of times

Middle of the night's pay off

Tree of life from roots to branches

Holds the sweetest nectar within

Search for you shall find

Dream baby dream

You went through spirals to comeback to the start

I send you high to wherever you want

Interpretation :

I think someone was suppressing you or maybe you were suppressing yourself , if you want to do something new it's an indication it's finally time to go for it , i think you are a very passionate person but if they mess with your soul they pay for the consequences. I think you will bounce back , i also hear " I come back stronger than a 90s trend " . I also feel someone is going to win a divorce case or a property case. This is also an indication that you finally know yourself because you dealt and passed the saddest times . I think people in this pile may also be working for their exams day and night , you are going to rock this . This also suggests that you should probably try interpreting your dreams or generally day dreaming will help you manifest anything you want . I get a revolutionary vibe . It's finally time to end the toxic patterns . If you were going back to something that no longer serves you , you are going to drop it for your good ! . You are going to bounce back so hard they will be surprised how good you have become , they also might become envious , but who cares . You do you Queen .

A shuffled song for you :

🔮Pile 4 :

Chains burn when changes come

Roads are open for wherever you wanna go

Cut the crap's

Silver lining in your eyes

Secrets stay secrets this time

Look at you flustered bride red wine

Cheaters will find it hard

To touch your silohette

Work starts for progression

Don't wait start it tonight

You'll never loose

In my eyes .

You are letting go of stagnancy , maybe you felt like you were trapped in your home , but it's time to realise it's you , i see people going to cafes alone truly believing solitude is a bliss , doing things alone finally realising that a person alone is a person powerful . You also might be going places very soon . Whatever others think screw it. You have finally found hope in hopeless times . If you had problems with your relationships and probably wanted to keep it a secret , this will be favouring you. Someone is going to party a lot . Someone is going to be married to the love of their life . Also if someone was cheating it will come to light and you are no longer attracting any toxic people . I think you used to feel weird emotions or feel numb when you were making love , you will feel pleasure from now on . If you are about to start a business , it's a confirmation so go for it . You could actually start anything , the results will be in your favour . If you think you aren't confident or have a feeling that you will lose , it's not that way and it's only for the better . You're going to feel very jovial .

A shuffled song for you :

That's all I had to offer , hope you enjoyed it 💗.

Yes and if you relate to something else and have some other interpretation go with it .

Have a great day/ night 🪄✨.

ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪🦩ஓீ፝͜͡❁۪۪

#pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #intuitive reading #tarot community #pick an image #pick a deck #Spotify

[its-short-for-jackalope]

WOW! THAT WAS SOME LORE, HUH? :D

reposting this meme bc it's true and bc I really like it, lol

I have quite literally been scribbling notes on a scrap of paper like a madman while rewatching TGOA part 3 as many times as possible, just jotting down all the mindboggling information we've been given, and some less direct stuff that I could be reading too much into but is fun and neat even if it doesn't amount to anything crazy and galaxy-brained, lol.

So click/tap below the cut for rambles about the final part of Pulp Musicals episode 3

The Ghosts of Antikythera ⚓️

Names, Names, Names!!!

Hey, might as well start with all the new names we've gotten!

The captain of the Antikythera — the ghost ship from 'someplace else' — is Addison Arvad.

Kal (my beloved/beloathed ❤ ) is Kalfu

The Traveler we met in TBS is Sia 💖💖

Ahlaam is another Traveler. I adore her already, and not just because she saved Rose.

Dakkar is... somebody. As expected, I've been going crazy in my dms with @man-down-in-hatchet-town, and she believes Dakkar is probably inspired by/based on Captain Nemo? 👀

King(?!) Itzal is... probably bad news! Kal's the one who calls him a King and he is obviously pretty loyal and devoted to him, and wants to impress him (aww), so methinks Itzal is maybe not so good???? (I am also a proud supporter of Brooke's Dylan Saunders as Itzal campaign, lol)

The Blazing World is home. It's where the Travelers and the Antikythera's Searchers (rip) are from, it was destroyed once—but is being rebuilt?—and Kalfu and Itzal seem to want it gone for good.

Lincoln Island is the mysterious island our heroes on the Ellen Austin are approaching at the end of the episode, the place Ahlaam sent Rose and the Antikythera to via orrery.

Quick *Approximate* Timeline

Eh, what can I say? We got numbers and I decided to do a tiny bit of math about it.

1874 — the Antikythera & the Ellen Austin

🔴 YOU ARE HERE

🎶 When are we? 🎶 Well, Morgan Reese informs our time-traveling heroes that, uh yeah lol, last he checked the year was 1874. What a funny question from a bunch of rapscallions!

Captain Arvad's logs from the Antikythera start in January 1874, so we know the Searchers were out and about in this same year. Their disappearances were recent and the ship hasn't been empty for all that long, I don't think.

1865 — may this monument stand forever

On this site in 1835, Sir John Herschel and Anna Hanover launched the first brick satellite, the Sagitta, in what was known as Township Number Nine. Erected to commemorate their bravery, to thank them for their gift to all mankind, may this monument stand forever.

Dedicated August, 1865.

1864 — the dark angel appears

A desperate AJ makes his ill-fated deal with Kal in exchange for his crew's safety during the Battle of Mobile Bay.

Damn the torpedoes.

1835 — the beginning of our adventure

🎶 IT IS EIGHTEEN THIRTY-FIVE 🎶 and the Great Moon Hoax and The Brick Satellite both happen in this year. Things were so simple back then!

1829 — the Blazing World is destroyed

In 1874, we are told (first by Arvad's journal, and then by Sia) that their home, that the Blazing World was destroyed 45 years ago. If my math is right and they're not hippity-hopping too much in time (they have time travel capabilities so idk for sure) that would put the destruction of the Blazing World in 1829.

If the world being destroyed is also the Event that Kal alludes to in Gunpowder and Rum, pt. 3 ("Your powers are returning and you still don't remember what happened? 😒") AND it's the one that left Margaret without her memories and powers, then... could Margaret have been feeling lost, alone, and disconnected with her phantom pain in New York for 6 whole years before the Stratfords wrote the hoax that would bring the quartet together??? 🥺

And while we're on the subject of time passing!

If Sia and Kalfu and everyone besides the quartet has gotten to 1874 the long way 'round... (which I think is the case if Kal snarked at Sia for hiding Margaret in the future—if he has a sense of the future in relation to the world and time, I'd say this also implies he & the others have a pretty consistent present?) ...have they aged? Or does their magic also lengthen their lives? I imagine it would be mentioned if Sia was visibly older, and since Samuel described Kal as looking ~40 years old, then how could he be younger than the war he's been in? lol. But idk, this is just food for thought!

Kal Loves His Lore Dumps, Doesn't he? This one's mostly about Margaret <3

"You've proven quite elusive over the years... We've searched across the seven seas... I suppose it's only fitting that I find you here by chance, looking for an orrery! I'd have settled for the ship, what's its name? An-ti-ky-ther-a. But you will be quite the prize. It's you that will seal our victory! A ship from the Blazing World would have been quite the quarry. But you? That could end things once and for all!"

"The ship, the orrery, they don't matter now. Not when I can dispatch the two biggest traitors in history with just one blow!"

Seems like our girl is pretty special~ 🥰

I mean, of course she is, she's our Margaret, but if Kal is willing to let the Antikythera go to get her instead, and he's so convinced that taking her out will win the war... our girl is Pretty Special™ right? Maybe she's a princess or something, or maybe her Radiance is just that heckin' strong. idk, but I'm excited to find out either way.

I'm also wondering if there's a connection between Margaret and the orrery/orreries... If Kal thought it was fitting to find her when he was after the orrery, does that mean something more? Could Margaret have created the orreries and/or the magic behind them? 👀

...actually maybe this isn't such a good and fun thing. 😅😟 Things don't usually go very well for special and important characters—what is the saying, tragedies love heroes? I mean, Margaret has lost her powers and memories once already, as well as her home and whatever family she may have had before. I know all our pulp blorbos have been in dire straights a few times now, but I don't want them to get MORE DIRE than this!

Kalfu, Sia, & Margaret's history

Kal: High marks for cloaking the fleet, but seriously—

...

Kal: Come on, it's a Traveler reunion.

...

Kal: Just a drink between three friends.

...

Sia: Oh, you were once a man that I trusted. Tell me, where has he been?

...

Sia: Itzal poisoned your mind!

Kal: Itzal opened my mind!

...

Sia and Margaret: *powering up*

Sia: Hey, Kalfu!

Kal: Huh? Ugh, not again.

Kal: *team rocket fog's blasting off again*

I think it's pretty safe to say that, once upon a time, these three were once close. Maybe they were friends and peers, or maybe Kalfu was once Sia and/or Margaret's mentor with that "high marks" comment. Whatever the case, they used to be allies who trusted each other.

I think it's also safe to say all three of them are/were Travelers. Obviously Sia is, and Margaret probably is/was one as well, since she and Sia have a badass combined attack (that I'm betting they used against Kalfu ~45 years prior). As for Kal... I don't know how the radiance and the fog fit together exactly, whether they've always been separate or the fog is a dark bastardization of the radiance, but it seems like he is on equal footing with Sia as far as magic powers go, and he can teleport like they do—AJ witnessed this at the Battle of Mobile Bay, and Samuel did (kinda) on the deck of the Ellen Austin. I don't know if that's the only qualification for being a Traveler, but it's worth mentioning.

It seems like Itzal was a pretty big factor in this trio splitting up—for whatever reason, Kal turned his back on Sia and Margaret to follow him, or perhaps Sia and Margaret left Kal behind when he wouldn't leave with them. I don't know, but I want to—I have questions!!!

Sia and Itzal — Future sight?

Kal (to Sia): You know, for someone with precognitive abilities, you sure like to cut things close. 😒

...

Kal: How I wish King Itzal was here to witness this. Or did he already know? Eh.

There's not much to say about this, really, I just think it's interesting.

But it does make me wonder if Sia *knew* that sending Margaret and the others to Hanover in 1874 would lead Margaret to the Antikythera and help her regain her memories, even if Sia couldn't see much more than that. Like, if she knew that Kal would be there, I don't think she would have put Margaret at risk like that when she was still vulnerable. Unless she was betting on Margaret figuring things out before Kal could make his move... gah, who knows! (Matt. Matt knows.) We do know that Sia can't see everything, though—she knows that the crew of the Antikythera are gone but has to ask Kal what he did with them.

Also, obligatory "yikes 😬" at the idea of having an enemy (King Itzal) who could possibly see your attacks/plans before you make them. That can't make this war any easier!

Fogging the vortices, you say?

Kal: We've been fogging the vortices for decades. There was bound to be an Antikythera sooner or later.

Vortices.... plural for vortex, yeah?

"A mass of whirling fluid or air, especially a whirlpool or whirlwind."

Is one of these vortices located here in the Sargasso Sea? Is that why Rose already knows plenty of ghost stories about these waters, why this is a strange place that'll one day be dubbed the Bermuda Triangle? Where are the other vortices??? How many are there??? What are they, exactly???

Okay, but what about the gates?

Kal: A war for a world of power and might

Sia: A war for a world of courage and light

Kal: Fought over decades

Sia: Over ascension

Kal/Sia: No chance of surrender, no chance of redemption

I'm just throwing darts here, but I feel like 'ascension' has to do with the gates that have been alluded to a few times now?

First, in TBS, Sia told Margaret that she couldn't take her to the gate until her memories were back. Then in part 2 of TGOA, Kal said something about the Antikythera's orrery leading him to the first gate.

I don't think these gates are the same thing as the vortices—if the bad guys have already been 'fogging' them, then Kal wouldn't need an orrery to find them.

The gates probably lead to the Blazing World, right? Kal and Itzal want to destroy the Blazing World for good, which is why Kal was trying to get the orrery, to get to the gate, to ascend to the Blazing World and turn it to dust once and for all.

Travelers and Symbols/Elements/Associations

To finish up, here's one of the things I've noticed more recently. We have four magical characters now who seem to be at similar levels of power and might all be/have been Travelers, and maybe it's just a fun bit of flavor rather than anything Extremely Vital to the plot, but they each seem to have their own kind of... niche?

Lemme run through 'em real quick.

Kalfu—

● Want a drink?

● Gunpowder and rum, too strong for some! 🎶

● And poison... is kinda my thing.

● Non-lethal fog, my latest brew

Kal's easy to figure out—he's been pretty clear with his gunpowder and rum (delicious!) and once he revealed it he's been very cheeky and upfront about his use of/preference for poison too. He also stands out as the only person wielding fog, but I'm sure that'll change as we delve further into the dark and into this war we're learning about.

Sia—

● "Was that sunlight shining in the sphere?"

● We're here to light the fuse

● Lay another hand on her and you'll go down in flames

● I will always be that feeling burning under your skin

hehe okay, Sia is the reason this whole section of my post exists lol. I noticed the references to fire in enough of her lines/lyrics in part 3 that I thought it couldn't be a coincidence, and then I looked at the others. I just think it's neat!

Maybe these lines are just nods to the fact that light can burn as well as illuminate—Kalfu would probably know, hah—but it is fun to think that maybe we could see our first and dearest Traveler friend whip out some cool fire magic later on—when she's not duking it out with somebody on a wooden boat, lol.

I'd love that for her, tbh.

...especially because alcohol is flammable. :)

Ahlaam—

Narrator: In a blinding flash, a woman materialized, and with a single motion, she pushed the water of the room with her mind

Okay, I fully admit this is mostly just a reason for me to make another waterbending joke. Ahlaam's appearance in this episode wasn't really long enough to give us much information about her, but I mean we also haven't seen anyone else do anything with water until she came along, so... if we see her do more stuff like this and she has more associations with water in episode 4 onwards, I will feel pretty smart. 😌

Margaret—

● the moon

● the sea

● astronomy

we might not know much about Margaret's magic beyond how brightly it glows—which isn't unique to her—and what she's been able to do with it, be we do know that she has a connection with the moon, of course.

I think we could also argue that she has a pull to the sea—mostly because of the view from her window and the rooftop, overlooking the water. Learning about the Searchers and the fact that Kal was looking for Margaret on the sea supports this connection, but again, that doesn't really single her out from the others.

Margaret does have an appreciation for astronomy, but even that might not be super unique, if her people have orreries on every ship and they all look up to the sky. However... my brain is still chewing on a possible connection between Margaret and the orrery, because of what Kal said. It would be pretty rad if she was the one who designed and crafted them, figured out that magic. So idk, that could be something.

If her memories are returning, maybe we'll see her really start to shine amongst her fellow Travelers as she recalls more about herself and brings together the person that resides in her memories and the person that losing her memories made her into.

phew, okay! this is a long post and I am now very sleepy, lol. I'm sure I missed a few things—I didn't take any *literal* notes during parts 1 & 2 and it'll be a few days before I get the album and lose my mind again—but maybe there's a few things I managed to catch that y'all will enjoy.

As always, feel free to reply/reblog with your own thoughts!!!

#still too stunned by the final part to do any art for it but i can type and that's your problem now 😇 #honestly i think I'll go back and relisten to the first two episodes #work on art for that while i wait to get the album #can you believe ive never even drawn sia before??? gotta fix that asap!!! #anyway. #jack jabbers #pulp musicals #matt dahan #pulp musicals episode 3 #the ghosts of antikythera #tgoa #pulp musicals tgoa #sia #pulp musicals sia #kal #kalfu #pulp musicals kal #ahlaam #pulp musicals ahlaam #the traveler #the travelers #king itzal #pulp musicals theory #pulp musicals theories #pulp musicals lore #the ghosts of antikythera spoilers #pulp musicals episode 3 spoilers #the blazing world

[motherodysseus]

Ptolemaea - Chapter 1

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Original Stark Female Character (Alysanne Stark)

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual innuendo, length of text (lol)

Summary: Lady Alys remains behind as her brother rallies support from the lords of the North. On her nameday, a tourney for her hand ensues, one she intends to win. But danger is around every corner. Will she survive long enough to unite with her Velaryon cousins?

Author's note: Sorry this took so long. Turns out, editing your own work is liable to engender insanity!!! This one is a bit of doozy in length (I swear, I cut plenty), but hey, there was a lot to set up! Could I have split it into two chapters? Maybe. But where's the fun in that!? Besides, we have a Rogue Prince to meet. I hope you enjoy, and, as always, your comments, thoughts and feedback are most welcome!

“My lady, we must hurry. Your Uncle will be cross if he finds you’ve been away too long. We were only supposed to take a ride, after all.”

Alys rolls her eyes. Mikken Reed is a kind boy, if not a bit irksome. House Stark’s newest ward, the future heir of Greywater Watch is young, only having nine summers on him, and tiny yet; he does not even clear her chest. This has not deterred the boy from latching onto her skirts, thinking himself her gallant knight and protector. Alys is quite capable of protecting herself, but she is happy to indulge him. Usually. Here in her meadow, however, the real world and all its accompanying burdens have no place. This makes his reminder most unwelcome. 

Found in the heart of the Wolfswood, the glade is dotted with wildflowers and the occasional oak and rowan tree. A brook cuts through like a vein, water trickling over the stones and strewn branches from trees long since fallen and rotted away. The sweet perfume of honeysuckles and primroses, and the dew that coats them each morn, are Alys’s favorite scent, second only to the winter rose.

Alys was but eight summers when she discovered this place, after running away from her lessons with Muña. At the time, she had no interest in learning to sew, or to dance, or to play the harp, or to manage a household. She’d much prefer to be in the training yard with her brother – a place she was barred from, on the unfortunate account of her being a girl. 

Alys was never one to care for rules, especially ones that made little sense. While the boys would practice at swordplay with Vayon Cassel, master-at-arms, she would sneak into the armory to fetch a bow, and teach herself how to shoot. Each time she was caught, she would be brought before her father. She’d beg and plead with him, but the yard was no place for a lady, he said, sending her from his solar back along to her mother, with red knuckles and a sore heart.

Indignant and embittered, Alys decided to prove herself.  She stole a bow and quiver full of arrows, had Nan the cook make her a picnic, saddled her pony Wynafryd – a beautiful black courser gifted to her by her Uncle Corlys – and galloped straight out of the safety of the Keep’s walls. 

Once she found this place, she built a shelter from fallen branches she found along the forest line, weaved a crown of wildflowers and named herself Queen of the Wolfswood. She held a coronation feast for one, gorging herself on the treats Nan provided. 

It took her parents a night and day to find her. When the Lord and Lady Stark finally laid eyes upon their wayward daughter, they were shocked to find the little kingdom she had created. 

“There is no denying it, my lord husband,” Valaena said, dropping down from her horse and scooping Alys into her arms, hugging her close as she brushed brambles from her dress. “Your daughter has the wolf’s blood in her. Or perhaps this is not our daughter at all; rather, some little fae creature we have on her hands. Tell me, riñitsos, are you a changeling or mine own daughter?”

“I’m no changeling, Muña. I am your daughter, the Queen of the Wolfswood! See?” Alys asked, pointing to her crown, slightly wilted and askew, tangled in her mass of dark curls from a night spent abed the soft grass. Valaena laughed again, peppering her face with kisses.

Rickon dismounted so that he could join his wife and daughter in a much-needed embrace; the search having frayed his nerves. “Aye, that you are, Your Grace. But a Queen cannot simply disappear without informing her loyal subjects.” Alys scrunched her face, turning from her father to hide in the crook of her mother’s neck.

Rickon brushed the back of her head softly, reaching in between mother and daughter to cup her cheeks and bring her eyes back to his. “You had your mother and I worried sick, Alysanne. You must swear to me never to run off like this again.” 

Alys’s lips quivered, but she did not back down. “I will swear it, but only if you swear you will allow me to train, Papa. Else, I shall be forced to make my home out here, and you shan’t look upon me again.”

Rickon locked eyes with Valaena over Alys’s head. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You drive a hard bargain, little wolf. After you serve your punishment, I’ll see what I can do.”

Alys, true to her word, served her punishment without complaint. She swore a full commitment to her lessons with both mother and Maester, and suffered through two moon turns without riding or sweets, nor playing with Holly, her closest companion. Not that Holly was interested, for she was quite cross that Alys would dare to run off without bringing her along. Nothing could mend the rift until Alys agreed to make a blood oath, swearing to never again adventure without her. The scar is still visible on her palm, and it is one she cherishes. By sharing blood, they were made sisters. Alys, though she loved her brothers dearly, had always wanted a sister.  

Her father, true to his own word, allowed her to train – though she never was welcome in the training yard. He would make time each week to take Alys and Holly out to the meadow. He taught them how to carve their own bows and string them, and trained the two how to shoot himself. When their skills surpassed his own knowledge, he sent for an archery instructor from across the Narrow Sea, swearing him to secrecy so the girls could continue to learn.

Shaking herself from her reveries, she looks back to the boy. “Oh, a pox on my uncle, Mikken! And what have I told you? You need not call me ‘my lady’ or ‘Lady Alys’ outside the Keep. Here, I am simply Alys.” She turns to face her fiery-haired friend. “Now, Holly, what say you? One more round of roving marks?”

“I say the little lord makes a point. No time left for all that – let’s aim once more for the target and then make our way back to the Keep.”

“Fine,” Alys huffs. “First one to hit the center gets their pick of dessert from the kitchens?”

“Challenge accepted, your Ladyship,” she says, leaning in with an exaggerated bow.

Holly herself never much cared for the pageantry of lords and titles, preferring to poke fun whenever she could. They are not her way, for she was born North-of-the-Wall to a wildling mother. When Holly’s mother was put to the sword, the Lady Valaena protected the girl, insisting she join her daughter’s household. Holly never forgot the kindness, even if she often forgot herself in the face of nobility and their “silly Southern customs.” 

Bennard thought Holly a bad influence, attempting to separate them when he took over the regency of Winterfell. But the Lady Valaena stood firm. “Woe be to any man who would tear apart sisters,” she said, “whether they be borne or made.”  

Bastard, thinks Alys, Should he ever try to take her from me, I’ll show him what a Lady is truly made of.

The girls nock their arrows, aiming for the mounds. “Mikken, count us down,” Alys insists.

“But, my lady, we will get in trouble if– ”

“‘Tis not an invitation to argue, Mikken! And what did I say about titles? Now, if you would please count us down.” 

“Yes, my lady – I mean, Lady Alys. I mean, Alys!” Mikken squeaks, as his hands twist the reins of their horses. Poor lad. I am too harsh. It is not fair to unleash my nerves upon him. 

“Loose your arrows on one! Three, two…”

Alys takes a breath, and eye falling shut as she narrows on the target. 

“One!” Mikken shouts. Alys has already released her quiver, as has Holly; neither girl is above a bit of treachery when they compete against the other. Their arrows whistle through the air. Alys squints, holding a hand over her brow to shield herself from the sun’s glare, attempting to follow their trajectory. She loses sight for but a moment, until she hears the telltale thwap-thwap. 

“I cannot tell from here, it’s too far to see clear, and the arrows too close to call a winner,” Holly says. “Should we send your little squire to check?”

Alys considers it, but the sun is nearing its midpoint; they are cutting it close. “Nay, I think he has suffered enough this morn. Let us make our way back. You may choose the dessert; I care not.”

“You care not because you know Nan is already preparing all your favorite sweets,” Holly says, bumping her shoulder. “Oh to be a Stark girl on her name day!” She declares, twirling about in some mockery of a dance, pulling Alys along with her. 

“Almost name day!” Alys says, giggling as she joins in. She turns and twirls with head upturned to the sun, following the tune of the brook behind her and the magpies overhead. There is a bite in the air, despite the fact that it is the twentieth day of the sixth moon of the year. Under the warmth of the sun, however, she can close her eyes and pretend that summer will last forever. Or, for a little while longer, at least. 

As she steadies, reality finally forces itself upon this once inviolable space. Her stomach twists, mood blackening instantly. If all does not go to plan, this could be my final name day as the ‘Stark girl.’ Steeling herself, Alys puts on a smile, giving Holly a little shove as she makes her way back to the tree line. 

She approaches Mikken. Up close, she can mark the strain her words put upon him in his creased brow and his slim shoulders that now rest firmly next to his ears.

She bends down to meet him. “Mikken, I owe you an apology for the way I spoke. It was unbecoming and cruel; I’m sorry for it. I know that you were only trying to look out for me.” 

His bottom lip juts out, eyes fixed firmly on his boots. Alys places a hand to his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “You know, it takes a brave man to stand up to those in power when he knows they are in the wrong. You will make a fine knight one day, and an even better Lord. It is an honor I do not take lightly, to watch you grow into both.”

“Do you truly mean it?” he whispers.

“I am not in the habit of saying things I do not mean, Mikken,” Alys whispers back conspiratorially. At this, he cracks a smile. “There he is,” Alys says, knocking his chin so that she can see his eyes. “Now, what say you to a little race back to Hunter’s Gate? Whoever makes it through first, can have the first bite of sweets. I heard a rumor that there will be apple tarts and stewed plums.”

Mikken brightens at this, and rushes to untie the horses. 

“You are good with him, Alys. Your mother would be proud,” says Holly, who has snuck up to her side. Gods, she’s silent as a wraith when she wants to be.

“Thank you for saying so. Though, I wonder if she would be proud of the spectacle I shall be forced to make of myself tomorrow,” she muses, turning back toward the clearing. 

Holly grabs her hand, the scars upon their palms brought together. It is a gesture of comfort, and she relishes in it. She knows me better than I know myself, as all sisters do.  “Aye Alys, she would be proud, and you know it. These are nerves talking, not reason.” 

“Perhaps,” is all Alys could muster. 

Holly studies her closely, but decides not to push. A first. She takes Alys’s bow from her, and goes to hide it in the brush alongside her own. Task complete, she turns back to her friend. “Come, if you think I shall let you win this race because you’ve decided to mope, you’re sorely mistaken.”

This jab is enough to make Alys smile. “Pray tell, Holly – when have you ever let me win?”

Holly ponders for a moment. “I’m certain there was a time or two, but I can’t recall them just now. Now, will you mount or will you give me a head start?” she asks, as she takes her palfrey’s reins from Mikken. 

“Take it, Holly, for you shall need it anyhow!” Alys crows. Holly laughs as she mounts her horse, whom she named – Gods, of all things –  Squirrel. Alys did attempt to reason with her, pointing out the absurdity of such a name, but Holly would not be moved. “'Tis is a funny name for him, but it fits. Squirrels are quick and agile. Is he not those things, too?”

Alys takes one last look upon her meadow. She cannot help but feel that today is an ending of sorts. She sighs, turning to Mikken. He hands her riding gloves over. Newly made for her, they are black as night, as is the rest of her new wardrobe. It may be her name day tomorrow, but she is still deep in mourning. 

Mikken is bursting with energy. He bounces on the balls of his feet, anxious to join the race. It is his eagerness that deals a final blow to Alys’s melancholy. “Come, I’ll help you mount.” 

She approaches Wynafryd, now as tall as any Lord’s war horse. Folding her hands together, she bends down to give him a boost. He scrambles into the saddle as Alys places a foot in the stirrup, launching herself behind him. She bundles Mikken tightly to her front, reaching around him for the reins. 

“Are you settled, Mikken? We have ground to make up, it seems.”

“Aye, Lady Alys! Make haste!”

She chuckles. My, is he not an imperious little lordling when competition is afoot. She gives Wynafryd a gentle kick, and clucks at her. “Onward, girl!” They race through the wood, Mikken whooping all the way. 

As soon as Hunter’s Gate comes into view, Alys spots Holly. That hair could be seen miles away, kissed by fire as it is. She leans in, forcing Mikken to do the same. “Come on, girl!” she shouts as she nudges the horse into a gallop, pushing her full tilt towards the gate. 

It is not long before they overtake her, barreling through the gate a few yards before she does. Really, it is not fair, even with the extra weight. Squirrel may be quick but he is no match for Wynafryd, in size or speed. Mikken’s cheer is contagious. Alys’s cheeks hurt from grinning, flushed as they are from activity. She slows Wynafryd to a trot, making her way past the kennels and kitchen, around the Library Tower, and toward the stables. 

She leads her horse into the paddock, as the stable boys rush in to aid her dismount. She passes Mikken down first, before swinging her leg over and leaping to the ground. Holly and Squirrel enter the paddock soon after.

“It was a close race, Alys. One of these days, Squirrel will overtake Wynafryd, I’m certain of it.”

“Aye, and the pigs will sprout wings and take off in flight,” Alys snorts.

Mikken interrupts them. “May we go to the kitchens now, Lady Alys?” 

Alys rolls her eyes, but her smile does not abate. “Aye, Mikken, we may. Run along ahead, and tell Nan I’ve sent you. You were first through the gate, which means the first sweet is yours.” The boy does not need to be told twice; quick as a rabbit, he runs back toward the kitchens. 

“It seems you’ve had an eventful morning, my lady.” Alys turns to see Maester Lymon leaning against the paddock fence, green eyes twinkling. A genial old man, Lymon is like another father to her. He is a grounding presence in her life, always encouraging her learning and supporting her throughout any trial. The Citadel may not allow women into their ranks, but her Maester does not share their qualms about the fairer sex. 

“That I have, Maester. How did you know I was gone?”

His tone is firm, but his eyes remain warm. “I didn’t, that is until I saw you flying through the gate from my solar; like a bat from the seven hells, no less.” 

Alys pulls her gloves from her hands, and makes her way to him. “I had no choice – Mikken would have been aggrieved if we had not won the race. Apple tarts were on the line, so he cannot be blamed for it.” 

Lymon laughs. “No, I suppose he can’t. You, however, can. We still have much to discuss ahead of our guests’ arrival. I’ve come to escort you to the Library so that we may talk logistics. Perhaps the boy will be kind enough to save you some sweets for when we are finished?”

“I think it unlikely,” she grumbles. My respite is at its end, it seems. “Holly, go on ahead to the kitchens without me. And do try to ensure Mikken does not take advantage of Nan’s good nature to eat his weight in sweets – Vayon will be cross with me if I’ve slowed down his newest recruit.”

“Aye, I can try, but I’ll make no promise of it,” Holly says, handing Squirrel’s reins to the stable boy and making a quick escape. She doesn't mind the Maester, but she was never one for lessons. “I’ll learn by doing, not by reading,” she said once, never returning to be taught thereafter. 

Alys and Lymon walk in an amiable silence as she takes in the din of the grounds. Nearing noon, Winterfell is alive with activity, its inhabitants bustling about in preparation for their incoming guests. The stable boys are bucking hay, and burly men roll barrels of ale toward the Great Hall. Maids flitter about, bringing fresh linens and candles to the Guest House, gossiping all the way.

It is Lymon who breaks their silence. “I’ll not ask where you were, my lady, but may I make the rather safe assumption that you were preparing for tomorrow’s contest?” 

“Aye, you may,” she concedes.

“And did you consider the risks, should you have been caught?”

“Aye, I did.” She pauses, before continuing in a hushed tone. “I found the necessity outweighed the risks. Besides, Bennard has been quite occupied these last few days, preparing to welcome my future husband, ‘whomever he may be,” she scoffs. “As if we are all unaware of his preference.”

Lymon hums in agreement. “We shall speak more on it in the Library.” Alys nods– it would not do to have one of Bennard’s lickspittles overhear. He banned her several summers ago from training, after all. If he were to be made aware of my rebellion, especially before the contest; well, it simply would not do. 

The pair climb the steps outside the tower. She allows Lymon to go first so that she may keep an eye on him. Now reaching an age where stairs become a struggle, he takes them slowly, grumbling as his bones creak. I worry for him. If I manage to succeed tomorrow, it would be best to take our lessons in the Maester’s Turret, or mayhaps the Glass Gardens; the warmth would be better on his joints. 

They arrive at the top, entering into the cavernous space which holds a thousand and one tomes, covering every inch of the rounded walls. She runs her fingers over the weathered spines, inhaling deep. The smell of leather, old parchment and dust soothes her. 

The Maester also shares her love of this place, if not for the sheer delight in the library’s collection, then for the privacy it provides. No one enters this tower but the two of them. Bennard and his degenerate sons are far from learned, having preferred the training yard as most Northern second sons – and sons of second sons –  seem to. It is one of the only places within Winterfell in which they may speak freely.

Lymon does not beat around the brush. “‘Tis a dangerous game you play, my lady. I worry for you. With your brother not yet returned from Last Hearth, there is no one here who may protect you, should you fail.”

“Come now, Maester – have you such little faith in your favorite pupil?” she asks, attempting a jape. It falls flat. Lymon grunts as he sits at the table, chains clinking. He motions her to join him before unfurling a parchment that holds a map of the North. He reaches into the wide sleeves of his robe, pulling out game pieces. Nay, not game pieces – they are direwolves. 

“Let us review again, Lady Alys. We’ve secured allegiances for your brother’s cause from Houses Reed, Karstark, Manderly, Mormont, the Flint’s of Widow’s Watch, Hornwood, Cerwyn and Forrester,” he states, positioning a direwolf piece over each of the respective holdfasts. “I think we can assume he will succeed with House Umber, for they have always answered the call.” He places a direwolf over Last Hearth before moving back to his sleeve, this time pulling from them not direwolves, but sheep.

“But that leaves several houses in Bennard’s camp,” he says as he scatters the sheep across the map, “the strongest and most dangerous being House Bolton. Should Lord Bolton’s son Mervyn succeed in the tournament tomorrow, it would not be a shock if your Uncle were to force you to marry him that very night, to ensure their allegiance to his cause.”

Alys huffs. “First – it is simply inconceivable that I would marry a man named Mervyn. Besides, Mervyn will not succeed. I am sure he is fine with a bow, but I am better. Second – the other houses attending who are sworn to us would not stand for it.” Her voice is confident, but the direction of this conversation is beginning to unnerve her.

“‘The houses will not have a choice in the matter,” Lymon hisses. “Your brother took his most loyal men with him to ‘settle disputes amongst the great houses.’ Bennard is not stupid, he knows that Cregan is rallying support. Without the men, or your brother to lead them, they will not interfere. You also risk insulting those who have sworn fealty, should you beat their sons in this contest. The lords are loyal, but they are also prideful. If they take offense, Bennard will fan the flames.”

Alys rubs her hands down her face, groaning. “That is unfair! It is not as if I asked for any of this!” She regrets the childish words, for they incense the Maester instantly. 

“You did ask for this, Alys! You did!” His palm slams against the table, several pieces tumbling.

“Maester –”

“No, do not deny it! I know your hand was forced, Alys. To attempt to announce an unagreed-upon betrothal at your lady mother’s funeral was, is, a travesty. But you stood up in front of Gods and men at that feast, and offered your hand to whichever lord could best you on the archery field. Rather than practice logic, as I have taught, or patience, as your lady mother taught, you reacted with your emotions. You asked for this.”

Tears prick her eyes. How is it that a proper scolding can make me feel as if I am not but a tall child? Lymon is not one to raise his voice, and it pains her to have aggrieved him so. It also pains her that he is right. 

“I apologize, my lady,” he mutters. “I did not mean to shout.”

Alys waves him off. “‘Twas not undeserved.” 

She twists her mother’s signet ring, staring at the carving of her entwined sigils. I cannot tell if this grounds me, or if it upsets me. I wish she were here with me, she would know what to do. “So what you are telling me is in either scenario – win or lose – we still lose. Do I have that correct?”

“Yes, that’s the long and short of it,” Lymon sighs. 

Alys swallows. “Well, fuck.” 

The curse shocks them both, for Alys seldom uses profanity. Lymon snorts, and the sound alone is enough to send her into a fit of giggles. They tumble together headlong into hysterics. As soon as one wrests control back over their senses, they make eye contact and the fit begins anew. It only ends when they are firmly out of breath, sides pinching and tears streaming. 

“Is there not a chance that they might be impressed by me?” Alys asks, wiping her eyes and righting herself. “For winning back mine own hand, which was already supposed to be mine by rights?” In truth, she knows the answer, but is desperate enough to ask.

“I suppose a small one,” Lymon considers. “Several houses have, or have had, ladies lead them. And most still recognize your father’s word as, if not law, then bond. But – whether we agree with them or not – most still see a lady’s place as in the home. Wedded, producing heirs,  keeping house; not besting boys in the art of war. Or, one of the arts, at least. We will have to count ourselves lucky if they perceive it as a rebellion against your uncle –”

“Which it is,” she counters.

“Yes, but it is as likely, if not more so, that they will take offense. We can’t presume that they will see it for what it truly is: a disavowal of Bennard’s unlawful hold on Winterfell,” he concludes.

Frustrated, Alys drops her head into her hands, fingers tugging at her hair. She wishes to growl, to scream, to rip at her hair or slam her fists on the table. To do anything to act upon her feelings. Instead, she takes a deep breath, then another, working to calm the tumult of her emotions. Perhaps one more breath would do. 

She sets her hands back on the table, folding them together to keep from fidgeting. “Is there any other option?” she asks. “Any possibility of getting through this unscathed?” And unwed?

“There is one. You will not like it,” says the Maester, lips drawn thin. 

“Tell me.”

“You run. No, do not interrupt,” he insists before Alys can speak. “I know you have been in near constant contact with the Lady Laena and your Aunt, the Princess Rhaenys, since your mother’s passing. I am the one who sends your letters, after all. I took it upon myself to send my own raven to your Uncle, Lord Corlys, making him aware of your plight – something you neglected to share with him, or any of them, it would seem.” 

Aye, because until this moment, I assumed that I had this in hand. Arrogant, mayhaps, but it is the truth. Lymon must find her silence encouraging, for he pushes on.

“He and the Princess Rhaenys have agreed to take you in as their ward. It is not customary, I know, but they are one of the most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms; soon to be made more so with the wedding of Laenor to the Princess of Dragonstone. They will have the security of the Crown behind them, and they can protect you until Cregan secures his seat. You would also be in a position to advocate for aid, if not from the Crown, then from your uncles. Docking the Velaryon fleet at White Harbor would be a show of force, and discourage the lords that back Bennard against a coup.”

Alys takes in Lymon’s counsel. My Maester has been hard at work, it seems. It is a clever, nay, brilliant plan. But it is an unacceptable one.

Alys sighs. “If I abandon my house, and my brother, what message does that send? And, should I run, what is to stop Bennard from closing the gates to us? A few hundred men can hold Winterfell, even if ten thousand set upon its gates. Winter is Coming; all he’ll need to do is wait us out.” 

She looks upon the signet once more, brushing a finger over the seahorse. “As tempting as it is to call upon the Velaryons, to ask for interference from a Southern house – kin or no – feels tantamount to admitting Creg cannot hold the North. This would bolster Bennard’s claim that he is unfit, unready. My brother would not allow it, nor can I.”

“All fair rebuttals, my lady,” Lymon shifts forward in his seat, looking Alys straight on. “But, so caught up in his efforts to seize power, Bennard has not properly prepared this Keep for Winter – no stocking of grain, nor movement made to repair Winter Town for the inevitable influx of smallfolk. And the Night’s Watch continues to send disturbing reports that your Uncle has all but ignored. Wildlings are attempting to cross The Wall in droves. Those that succeed have been raiding villages in their push southward. They’re desperate, enough so to claim to have seen the Others, not that those wives' tales stop them from losing their heads.” 

A chill courses down Alys’s spine. The Others are ghost stories meant to scare little children; a mere allegory for the coming of Winter itself. In any event, they have been gone for thousands of years, if they existed at all. ‘Tis a monstrous excuse to use to rape and pillage defenseless villages. But what if there is more to it? There may be no White Walkers, but it is possible the wildlings are running from, not toward, something. I shall have to ask Holly. 

Lymon’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. “There is a chance, a high one I should think, that the vassals and smallfolk would turn on him. But to allow yourself to remain here is to risk not only your future, but your very life. If Bennard grows reckless, he will use you as a weapon against your brother. He has always seen you as a tool. And what is a weapon but a tool used to maim; to kill?”

Alys sucks in a breath – this cannot be happening. This is my home. This is my family’s home. And am I to leave as it is torn asunder? Am I to abandon my brother, my kin, my people when they need me most?  Her mind is made up. 

“And what if I am a weapon, Maester? After all, a knife cuts both ways.”

“Alys, I beseech you–”

Alys holds her hand up, halting his speech. “Maester, I am grateful for your counsel; even more so for the care you have shown me. But I will not leave my home and people to be picked over by carrions who call themselves wolves. I have made my bed, and I mean to lie in it. I will write to my Aunt and Uncle to thank them for their hospitality, but to inform them that it is unnecessary. For I am a Stark; I belong to the North.”

Lymon slumps in his seat. “As you say. But I urge you, do not hasten to send that raven. Wait until the tourney ends, at least.” 

Alys nods as she rises from her seat. “I should go. I must prepare for the welcome feast, and Bennard expects me to greet my suitors.” 

“Tread carefully, my lady,” says Lymon as she reaches the door. The double meaning is not lost on Alys. She quickly exits, turning the conversation over in her mind as she picks her way down the stone steps. Unsettled and disquieted as she is, she allows herself to be led by instinct. Rather than turn toward the Great Keep as she ought, her feet move forward, straight into the Godswood. 

Alys sighs; it is as if a stone has been shed from her shoulders. In the forest, she is as free as a snow shrike, alive and unfettered; but it is here in the Godswood where she finds true peace. 

The three acre grove is as old as the land itself. It smells of damp earth and pine, with only the sound of crunching needles underfoot and the caw of ravens for company. She walks deeper, trees rising and tangling around her as she makes her way through.

Her feet stop as they alight upon their chosen destination – the Heart Tree. The world quietens here, for this is where the Old Gods keep house. Its weeping eyes are ever watchful. Carved into the snow white bark by the Children of the Forest eons ago, many have sworn to feel them follow. This never unsettled Alys – those eyes make her feel seen, held, safe. 

Alys keeps the Old Gods, just as every Stark has. Nameless and faceless, they are found in the twisting of roots, the bends of streams and sturdiness of stones; in the eyes of the Heart Tree, too. 

Still in her riding leathers, the chill of the afternoon cuts through easily, but she scarcely feels it. Dropping to the grove’s floor, she makes her home where she always does — curling in between the roots of the tree, hand gripping the root. She closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the tree as she listens to the wind moving through its branches, blood-red leaves rustling as they reach for the heavens. 

Time suspends itself as she begins to pray. She prays for her brother’s swift and safe journey home. For Holly and Mikken, for her Maester. For her Mother, Father, and brother since passed. For the health and safety of the Northern folk. For an easy Winter. For herself.

Once her prayers are complete, her mind drifts. She is so tired – tired of fighting, tired of fearing, tired of feeling too big to be small and too small to be big. She is simply tired. Her body seems to agree, for her eyes droop, and consciousness slips away. 

She dreams, though it feels as real as breathing. In her dreams, she is a wolf. She runs through the forest on unsteady legs, as if she were but a pup. She dashes about, sniffing and climbing and bounding through to a clearing. It is her meadow; she recognizes it instantly. She turns just as another pup tackles her, nipping and wrestling and rolling in the grass. They frolic and play until a howl cuts through the Wolfswood.

Alys awakens with a jolt, disoriented. Something has hit her shin. No, not something, someone. Her cousin Benjen stares down upon her, eyes beady and black. His hair is greased back with animal fat, and he is dressed in such finery, it is as if he were a Lord’s heir himself. I suppose he and Bennard like to think so.

He knocks her shin with his boot once more. “Get up. You’re late. Again.” 

She rolls her eyes. “How can I be late to mine own feast, Benjen?” He curses at this. Alys should know better than to bait him, but cannot help herself. “Now cousin, is this how you speak to a lady?”

He kicks her again, harder this time. “I see no lady, just an insolent brat. One who is finally getting what is coming to her. It’ll be a relief to be rid of you,” he sneers.

“So sure of yourself. Fortunately, so am I,” she fibs. He doesn’t need to know I’m out of my wits with nerves. “I’ll succeed, my brother will return, and you will be back to doing whatever it is the first son of a second son does. Shoveling horse dung, I assume.” 

Alys moves to stand — too slowly, for Benjen grabs her by the elbow, squeezing tight as he lifts her. She knows immediately it will bruise, and stifles a whimper. Her cousin has always been a cruel, violent sort. As a child, he would bludgeon animals for sport; kicking cats, strangulating squirrels, beating dogs. Nothing was beneath him. The maester would often chase him from the rookery, for he would try to break a raven’s wings for no discernible reason other than to relish in their agony. Now a man grown, he’s moved from animals to men. And women, it seems. Creg’s absence emboldens him.

“You think so, cousin? You know, Father doesn’t pay close enough attention to you. ‘What time do I have for some halfbreed girl?,’ he says, ‘She is pretty, and she has our name. 'Tis all that matters.’”  

This particular revelation does not surprise Alys. Bennard has never been above othering her or her mother for their Valyrian heritage.

“Father thinks you dotty, yes, but dutiful,” Benjen continues. “A silly little girl whose own father gave her too much freedom. He thinks he curbed that, and that you will go quietly to your marriage bed, even with the stunt you pulled. But I know better, Alys. I watch you running off with your little wildling to the woods, and whispering in corners with your Maester. You are dangerous, as are all girls who do not know their place. But soon, your husband will teach you. ’Tis a shame I am not part Valyrian; perhaps I’d have the honor of breaking you.”

Alys’s stomach drops. She attempts to extricate herself from his grasp, but his grip tightens as he pulls her in. Her nose crinkles as his hot, rancid breath covers her face.

“You know, I’ve spoken to Mervyn of your proclivity for impertinence. He assures me that the Boltons have a particular method for dealing with untamed wives.” He leans closer, whispering into her ear. “Considering the rumors of their continued predilection for flaying men alive, I can imagine it’s quite painful. Do you think he’d let me watch?” 

Alys cannot seem to speak, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. How dare he speak like this in front of the Gods. She remembers the Maester’s scolding. Logic, patience – I must practice them.

“You and Mervyn seem quite confident in his ability with the bow,” she says, forcing her tone into one of casual indifference. “But I hear Lord Manderly’s sons are truly gifted. If the ravens are to be believed, I could be the next Lady of White Castle.” Alys does not know if this is true; it likely isn’t. She doesn’t even know the boys’ names, let alone if they have any skill with the bow. But it’s enough to get what she needs from Benjen.

“Aye, but Mervyn has the distinct advantage of training with the best archery master in the North. You may recall him; he was sent from Winterfell some years ago now, for conspiring to train you in secret.” 

Benjen must see her blanch, for he begins to cackle. “Come along, cousin. You must make yourself pretty for your husband.” He shoves her forward as they make their way to the Great Keep. 

Alys remains in a daze as she prepares for the feast. At once, she is bathed and dressed in a gown of black. It is made of velvet and soft as sin, with trumpet sleeves and a square neck trimmed with ermine and silver brocade. A direwolf belt is swung low around her hip. When she looks upon herself, all she can see is Muña’s lilac eyes boring into her. It is a haunting sight. I look as if I am attending another funeral rite; in a way, I may be. 

Holly attempts to engage her in idle conversation while she plaits her hair, but it is no use. Alys twists her signet and stares off. She thinks more on her dream, wishing it were as real as it felt; how she longs to be as free as that pup. 

So overcome, she does not notice Holly’s look of concern. “You do look lovely, Alys.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles. The girls lock eyes in the mirror, and Holly turns her from the vanity, taking her hands in hers. 

“I wish you would tell me what is troubling you so. Is it the Maester? I’ve told you, too much thinking addles the mind.” Alys lets out a huff, and Holly smiles. “Tell me, what has you all worked up?”

She tells Holly everything — from the Maester’s concern and push to send her to her cousins in the south, to Benjen’s cruel behavior and the information he let slip. Holly listens intently as she unburdens herself. 

“Aye, I can see now why you’re so troubled. This is quite the dung pile we’ve found ourselves in.”

“That I’ve found myself in, Holly.”

She holds up her scarred palm. “Thought you’d learn by now that we’re a package, you and I. Now, let’s talk it through, shall we?” Holly moves to the bed, patting beside her, encouraging Alys to join. “I think the Velaryons are a good fallback. If your mother could sail herself away from the south to Winterfell to marry your father, can we not go the other way? If it comes to that tomorrow, we'll leave.”

“I don’t know if we can, Holly. I’m needed here. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell; certain, Bennard does not count. I just – I don’t see how we can leave our home.” Alys’s lip quivers.

“If Bennard, his shite-for-brains sons — I’ll kill Benjen, by the way, and use his bones to pick my teeth — and his shite-for-brains Bolton cronies have their way, Winterfell won’t be home any longer,” Holly says, grabbing her hand. “You don’t belong at the Dreadfort, Alys. You have to think of yourself for once; what use are you dead or hidden away in some rotten Keep? And speaking on the Boltons, so what if he’s been training? So what if he’s good? You’ll be better.” Holly rubs her thumb over Alys’s knuckle to soothe her, just as Muña used to. It serves its purpose— Alys lets out a watery sign and hugs her friend close. 

“Thank you,” she breathes as Holly rubs her back. 

“Don’t thank me. I’m only telling you what you already know; you just got caught in your nerves again. Now, we should get to the feast,” Holly rises, and Alys moves to join her. 

“Oh!” she exclaims. “ I forgot — Cregan left you a gift for your name day. He told me not to let you open it until the day of, but he’s not here, is he? It’s under your bed. Do with that information what you will.” Holly smiles beatifically, as she always does when causing trouble.

“Will you give me a moment then? I have a present to unwrap,” Alys grins. Holly nods, and closes the door behind her. 

She drops flat to the carpet, with no thought or care for her dress, rummaging under her bed. Not once does she think to wait, for she hates surprises. Creg should never have trusted Holly to keep a secret from me, anyhow. 

Her hand alights upon a box, and she slowly pulls it from its hiding place. It's large, and carved from rowan wood, with her House’s sigil burnt into the grain. 

Alys gets up and places the box upon her bed. There is a note attached; one she is tempted to bypass entirely in her eagerness to open her present. Patience is a virtue, I suppose. She sighs, plucking the note from its ribbon. She cracks her brother’s seal to see his scrawl, short and sweet. 

Father told me I’d know when you were ready. Shoot straight. 

Your brother, 

Creg

She sucks in a breath. Father told me I’d know when you were ready. Hands quaking, she opens the box.

Inside is the most wonderful sight she’s ever seen – a beautiful bow and quiver set, made to size. The bow itself is bone white, carved from weirwood; Alys would recognize it anywhere. The arrows are carved from the same, with its feathers a startling crimson, akin to the leaves of the Heart Tree. But it is the arrowheads that truly dazzle, for they are not of any metal she has encountered. In truth, she only recognizes it from her lessons, for they are dragonbone. So sharp, they would draw blood at just a touch. She picks up the bow, testing the string's tension, the weight of it, how it feels in her hand. It’s perfect, it's perfect, it’s perfect. 

She does not know how her father came into possession of such a treasure. Dragonbone is not an easy material to come by, nor an inexpensive one. And to have a perfectly carved weirwood bow – it is an honor he’d entrusted her with it. He believed in her, as did her brother; her mother, too. They may not be with her, but they are behind her, as they always have been. She does not know whether to laugh or cry. For the first time in an age, she feels hope; not just hope, but a sense of surety. Holding the faith of her family in her hands, Alys knows now what she must do, and how she can win.

She attends the feast, light as air. Nothing can spoil her good humor – not Benjen’s leer, nor her uncle’s very presence, which often serves to put her off her appetite. In truth, she is ravenous, nearly inhaling her roast pheasant and potatoes. 

Soon, the minstrels begin to play. Alys takes care to dance with each Lord’s son. Lord Manderly’s boys, Jonnel and Joseth, prove exceptional dancers, even if they’re impossible to tell apart. She takes Mikken for a spin on the floor, much to the delight of everyone present. She even allows Mervyn a dance; when his hand moves too low to be proper, she steps on his feet with particular verve. Here’s hoping it cripples him, but I would settle for a lost nail.

When she retakes her seat at the head table, dessert is being served. There are apple tarts and stewed plums as promised; even the rare lemon cakes make the rounds. Once full, she sits back and watches the hall. Many of these men are allies and competitors in one; some are outright enemies. It matters not to Alys. She smiles at them all – for she is a wolf, and she does not fear sheep.

“It seems you have made some peace with your lot, niece,” Bennard slurs. A drunkard and a fool, may the Others take him. 

“I was always at peace with my lot, Uncle,” Alys sniffs. “It was ensuring that I marry a man worthy of me that put me on edge over the prospect.” 

“Well, you have a peculiar way of choosing that man. Not that you should be choosing at all, but your father will get his way, as he always does,” Bennard glowers as he sinks deeper into his cups. “Archery, pah! I know you think yourself a savant because Rickon indulged you as a child, but you will learn the truth of it tomorrow. The Boltons are a powerful family, and you will be lucky to join their house when Mervyn proves himself.” 

Alys bites her tongue, once again remembering Lymon’s counsel. “As you say, Uncle.”

“As you say, Uncle,” Bennard mocks. “Do not be impertinent, especially in the face of my generosity. This feast and tourney cost me a pretty copper, as will your dowry. You ought to be grateful.” 

Her blood boils, but she tamps it. Best to let it fester so that I may use it on the field tomorrow. 

“Of course, Uncle. I am ever so grateful,” she says through her teeth.

Bennard hums again, too drunk to notice her ire. “Good. Now, to bed. You must look fresh-faced for your husband tomorrow. Men like their women pretty, after all. They also like them demure. I suppose I shall leave it to your husband to teach you the latter, if it’s not a lost cause already,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Begone from my sight, Alysanne.” 

Alys squeezes her fists, nails cutting into her palms. Yet, she arises gracefully as her mother taught. She bids her Uncle and cousins a good night, though she does not mean it. Benjen runs his tongue over his teeth, like a bloodhound who caught the scent. Ignoring him, she beckons to Holly, and they leave the Great Hall. 

She helps her undress in silence, untying her stays while Alys works at her plaits. With mere hours left until dawn, she knows she will sleep little. Holly offers to stay with her, but, as it might be her last night abed alone, she declines. I should enjoy the space while I am able. They bid one another good night, and Alys buries herself under the covers. 

She tosses and turns for what feels like an age, until sleep finally claims her. Again, she dreams she is the wolf. She is warm, safe, cuddled against fur. She turns her head, to see the same grey pup that had tackled her, now fast asleep. Perhaps the mother is on the hunt. She gets up, stretching her tiny limbs, and makes her way from the den, dirt soft under her paws. She looks up at the moon, and howls. 

As dawn breaks, Alys arises from her bed. Despite the chill, the rooms remain warm. Not for the first time is she thankful for the ingenuity of Bran the Builder. Piping water from the hot springs into the stones for certain has saved me a toe or two. 

She dresses slowly in her leathers, somehow managing the stays herself. She then places her mother’s signet upon her smallest finger, and her archer’s ring upon her thumb. Once finished, she sits at her window, watching the sun rise.

Holly and the maids enter not long after, bringing tea and food to break fast. Alys forces down some bacon and bread, despite her scant appetite. She watches in the mirror as Holly tames her hair into an intricate five strand plait.

“Do you like it?” Holly asks.

“More than like it,” Alys says, marveling at her handiwork. “It almost looks as if it is a chain.” 

“Aye, that was the aim. For you will not break this day, I know it in my heart.” Alys warms at her steadfastness and faith, sending a prayer of thanks to the Gods for bringing Holly into her life.

They sit in silence for a time, and she lets Holly inspect her new bow. “It is impossible to fail with a bow as nice as this. You can feel the love that was poured into its making, and yet there is something deadly in it. It will protect you, I think.” 

“I think the same,” Alys says. Too soon, there is a knock upon the door, and she begins to shake. “You may enter.” 

It is Mikken, and for this kindness she is thankful. Better than my cousin, that is for certain. “Lady Alys, it is time,” he says. 

Alys takes a deep breath, and tries to calm her trembling hands. “So it is. Mikken, will you stay with Holly and me? I could use a lad like you to keep an eye on my back.”

Mikken sputters. “I would be honored, Lady Alys, but perhaps someone bigger would be best?”

“No, sweet boy, you misunderstand. I want someone whom I trust to stand with me, and that’s you. Consider it part of your training if you must, but in truth, I would just appreciate you there as my friend.”

She watches the blush creep up his cheeks. “I’d be honored, my lady!” 

“Good, now, let us make haste. I would not put it past Bennard to start without me in an attempt to void my participation.” She takes her bow from Holly and straps the quiver to her back. Stealing one last look in the mirror, she’s pleased to find she cuts an unearthly and imposing figure. Let these men shiver when they see me. 

Flanked by Holly, Mikken and several guards – sent by Bennard no doubt, to ensure I do not run – they march from the First Keep and through to the North Gate, outside which an archery field is constructed. At least a dozen mounds are set in a line. Alys breaks into a grin. Mere target practice. Not roving marks, nor splitting the wand. Bennard underestimated me. Good. 

The archers check their names upon the roster, and Alys does the same. The Maester was right, many of the most noble houses of the North have sent a son to participate. She sends up another prayer before making her way to her designated marker. Mervyn is to her left, and a Manderly – Jonnel? Or is it Joseth? – to her right. And the line goes down, faces blending. 

She walks the paces, gauging the distance between marker and target. She crouches down, and picks up grass and leaves, crumbling them to see which direction the wind blows. She heads back to her marker as she stretches her arms, ignoring the eyes upon her. Finally, the trumpets sound.

“Esteemed lords, ladies and guests! Thank you for your attendance on this day; the day my beloved niece turns seven and ten!” Bennard shouts from his spot on the dais. He has made himself and his sons little thrones to sit upon, above all the other lords and vassals. Alys rolls her eyes. They look foolish. 

“The Lady Alysanne is now a woman grown, and it is time for her to choose her bridegroom. And so she has; the one who succeeds her in this tourney shall be the lucky man! Not too hard of a task for such strapping Northern men, I should think.” A cheer rises from the crowd, and she can feel the eyes of all the archer’s boring into her. Let them think they have me. “Now, at the crier’s call, let our tourney begin!” 

Alys nocks her arrow, breathing deep as she closes her left eye to aim at the target’s eye. The first arrows loose at the crier’s call. She hits near dead center. It must be the nerves. She sneaks a peek at her competitors – only a few have come as close as she has.

One by one, round after round, the men are eliminated. The crowd, who had once cheered for her future husband, now turn their love to their Lady, becoming more raucous as each arrow is loosed. Alys does not dare to look upon her Uncle. She can feel his ire well enough, and does not need the distraction. 

Finally, the last Manderly boy – Jonnel, if the crier is to be believed –  is eliminated. “You are a worthy opponent, my lady. I am undeserving of the honor of your hand,” he says, placing a kiss upon her knuckle. She smiles and thanks the man before he makes his way back to his brother. 

Only her and Mervyn remain at the butts.

“He may be undeserving of your hand, Lady Alys, but I certainly am more than up to the task,” he scoffs. “I shall even give you my sword as well, as many times as you ask for it and more.” Her rage is set aflame by his words, hotter than dragonfire – so hot, it burns cold. I am going to enjoy this.

The crier calls for them to nock once more. Inhale as you pull, exhale as you release, easy as breathing. She hears him shout loose, so she does. The arrows whistle through the air, and she knows before it  lands it will be dead center. She looks over at Mervyn’s target, and his is centered. But not like mine. They send a judge – Lord Mormont, by the looks of it – out to check. Another – Lord Ryswell  – joins him. The crowd hushes as they deliberate. Coming to an accord, they summon the crier.

“The Lady Alysanne Stark is our winner!” the crier shouts, and the crowd is insensate. They stomp and cheer and cry for Alys, so loud she can scarce hear herself think. She turns to Mervyn, whose mouth is agape.

“It seems your sword is unworthy of my sheath, Bolton,” she quips over the din. “I wish you and your future lady wife luck; Gods know she’ll need it!” She laughs as Holly and Mikken barrel into her, bundling her in an embrace as they jump up and down. 

She looks over their heads – the lords and their sons are shocked, but do not seem angered by the result. Relief begins to set in, until she hears a commotion coming from the dais.

“No, no, no! This is not how this was supposed to go!” Bennard yells as he stomps toward her, mouth foaming. He rips her from Holly and Mikken’s grasp. “You little ingrate! Worthless fucking trollop!” 

Before she can react, she hears a crack as her head whips violently. Blood pools on her tongue, tainting her mouth with the taste of copper. He’s hit me. Gods, he’s truly hit me. 

The crowd is silent as he grabs her plait, twisting painfully. “You disgust me, you halfbreed whore. Your flagrant disrespect is at an end. I command you to marry the Bolton boy this very night. I don’t care if I have to hold you at sword point to see it done!” His spittle flies in her face. 

“Everyone knows that marriage will not be valid in the eyes of Gods and men, as no marriage under threat of the sword is,” she says, voice projecting loud enough for the crowd to hear. “I’ve won, Uncle, fair and true; this contest is at its end. A Lord would take it gracefully, but you are no lord. The real lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North rides from Last Hearth, to take his rightful place on the Winter Throne. I’m certain he will be fair when he metes out the King’s justice.” She smiles menacingly as blood coats her teeth. 

He shrieks as he throws her to the ground, kicking her once, twice, thrice in the gut. She coughs, curling into herself in agony. The crowd, regaining its senses, hisses and jeers. The hair-raising sound is enough to pull Bennard from his rage. He turns back to find the Lords in the North looking upon him with disgust, and a crowd so enraged they are near riot. 

“Guards! Take the Lady Alysanne to her rooms and bar the door. If she is to act a child, she will be treated like one.” The guards hesitate. “Now!” Bennard shouts. The crowd grows restless as the guards grab her under her arms and drag her back to the keep. She’s begun to grow faint, so she does not hear what Bennard says to try to appease them. Whatever it is, she hopes he fails.

Once she is unceremoniously thrown into her rooms, she begins to laugh. It hurts, terribly, but she cannot help it. Her wretch of an uncle proved as foolish as she always thought. Perhaps the Lords would have been upset at her winning, if they had not been made indignant at her ill treatment. Their beloved Lord Rickon's only daughter, beaten by her uncle in front of Gods and men. And the crowd, filled with small folk and all manners of vassals, loathe him. Now, they all see him for what he truly is. A usurper cunt.  

She forces herself up, and gingerly makes her way to her bed. She does not bother with the door, knowing that it will be locked, with guards posted outside it. She does not know what has happened to her bow, and can only pray that Holly or Mikken managed to save it from her Uncle’s wrath. 

Consciousness begins to ebb and flow – like the tide. I should have taken the Maester at his word and fled to High Tide. She swears she hears Lymon attempt to gain access to her, but cannot tell if she is dreaming. If it happened in truth, he is clearly denied. Perhaps Bennard means to starve me, or hopes I bleed out internally.  She goes back under, and comes to when it is long since dark. 

She winces as she attempts to rise. Her ribs and stomach are especially sore, so movement must be made carefully. Once standing, she creeps to her window to look out at the moon. By its placement, she guesses it's the hour of the owl.

Suddenly, she hears a quiet scuffle at her door. She panics, searching for anything in her room that can be used as a weapon. She pockets a letter opener and grabs an iron candlestick for good measure. 

Alys braces herself as she hears the lock click. The door opens; all she discerns are shadows and black cloaks. She raises the candlestick, preparing to fight to the death. Then, a hood drops, revealing long, fire kissed hair. She crumbles in relief, and Holly catches her before she hits the floor. 

“By the gods, Alys! What did you mean to do with this thing, and in your state?” Holly asks, pointing to the candlestick. 

“Hit you with it,” she wheezes, “though I’ll admit, I am not in the best fighting shape. Had hoped I’d get a second wind, but alas.” 

Holly shakes her head, busying herself with cataloging all her injuries. Alys looks over her sister’s shoulder, trying to decipher just how she took down the guards. It seems she did not succeed by herself. Mikken holds open the door as the two Manderly brothers pull the unconscious guards inside. Nan the cook steps gingerly over them, basket in hand, with Vayon Cassel and his son Rodwell taking position at the door, which Mikken quietly closes behind him. 

“What is this? I don’t understand,” she says. “Where is Maester Lymon?”

“They locked him in his turret, but not before he gave us marching orders,” Holly says. “We’re getting you out, tonight. First to White Harbor, then on a ship to High Tide. Your Aunt and Uncle have been informed of your arrival. Seems the Maester had a contingency plan.”

“He tends to have several,” she quips, wincing. Holly rolls her eyes, before turning back to the Manderlys. “Ribs bruised, not broken. Severe bruising on the abdomen, but doesn’t seem fatal. It’ll be painful, but we’ve got to go by horseback.”

“Aye, I’ll go prepare them now,” says – Joseth? – before making a quick exit. 

“Holly, how do we know we can trust them?” she asks. 

The remaining Manderly brother kneels before her on the floor. “My lady, my house is loyal to the one true Lord of Winterfell, your brother Cregan. We owe everything we are, our lives and our very home, to House Stark. Beyond house ties, I am here of my own accord. I would pledge my life and loyalty to you, my lady, if you will have me. Allow me, as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, to swear fealty to you, so you know me to be loyal and true.”

Alys is overwhelmed by the gesture. “Your kindness and loyalty are noted, Ser, but I cannot accept. Your father would be most aggrieved to lose a son and heir in service to a Lady.”

“I am but the second son, my lady. My brother Joseth is the heir, with another brother who can play spare until he takes a wife and begets a son.” 

Flabbergasted, all Alys can think is: Oh, so this is Jonnel. “Are you certain, Ser?”

“More than anything. Will you permit me?” he asks, reaching for her hand. She acquiesces. 

“I, Jonnel of House Manderly, offer my services to the Lady Alysanne of House Stark. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.” 

Alys swallows, overcome by the earnest show of devotion. I shall cherish his loyalty always. For he is my sworn shield, and I protect what’s mine. 

“I, the Lady Alysanne of House Stark, vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise, Ser Jonnnel.” He beams at her for but a moment, before acting upon his vows. 

“We must move quickly, my lady,” Jonnel says. “Your cousins have been locked in their rooms, and your Uncle drugged with milk of the poppy. Enough to put him to sleep for a few hours, but no more.”

“And the lords of the North? What of them?” she asks, watching as Holly quickly packs the necessities.

“The lords have seen all they needed to this day; enough to look the other way at your leaving,” says Jonnel. “The vassals, too, are in an uproar. Your brother can expect their support. Aye, your Uncle will not have an easy time of it once he awakes.”

Alys attempts a smile, bruised cheek smarting. “Good. That’s good. What of the guards?”

“Since tonight’s feast was canceled, the Maester thought it smart to have me send the remaining barrels to them directly," says Nan, speaking up from her place in the corner. "I happened to agree – good autumn ale like that shouldn’t be wasted. Outside of these lads, most are too drunk to stand. Though I suppose they’re not standing, neither.” 

Alys, with help from Jonnel, walks to her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Thank you, sweet Nan. I will not forget this kindness.” 

“You are our Lady. No matter where you go, Winterfell is always with you,” the cook says, wiping a tear from Alys’s eye. “Now, I’ve packed provisions. Should be enough for the journey there. But you all need to move now, there’s not much darkness left.” 

Mikken steps in front of the door, distraught. “I’m coming, too, for I promised to protect you first! I know I failed, but I won’t again, I swear it!”

Alys's eyes water. “You did not fail me, Mikken. You could never,” she says, gentling the boy. “But I have a new task for you. I need you to protect Nan and the Maester until Cregan or I return. They’ll need you more than I will, and I can trust no one else but you.”

The boy begins to cry, and rushes to hug her. She tries not to flinch, not wanting to hurt the boy further. “I don’t want you to leave,” he hiccoughs.

Alys stiffens her lip, hugging him back. “I do not want to leave you either, sweetling, but I must. We’ll be reunited soon, you’ll see. Can you be brave for me until then?” She feels him nod. “Good lad.” 

He wipes his eyes, and moves to Nan’s side. Alys turns to them one last time, offering a parting wave before Holly bundles her in a black cloak and Jonnel hurries them from her rooms. Vayon and Rodwell fall into step behind them. Quiet as ghosts in the crypt, they move through the Keep. They reach the stables with no interference, where Joseth and a stable boy have their mounts prepared. 

Jonnel lifts Alys into Wynafryd’s saddle. Holly grabs a bow and quiver, one set of two, from the saddle bag – my bow, Gods be praised. She passes the bow to her before strapping the set she nicked from the armory to her back. The rest of the group races to mount their horses. If anyone spots them from Brandon’s Tower, they raise no alarms. 

Alys looks up at the Maester’s Turret. It is dark, so she is unable to discern any movement through the window. She gives a wave anyway, hoping that Lymon can see. She pours her gratitude, and her grief, into the gesture. He knows, he must.

In a flash, they are out the East Gate and barreling into the hills outside. Avoiding the Kingsroad and camping will make the journey safe, but long. With her injuries, it will be many days until they reach the White Knife, and more yet before entering the safety of White Harbor. 

Alys ignores her pain as best she can, making it a few hours before it becomes unbearable. As dawn starts to crest, they stop to set up camp. They share some bread and mead amongst them before Alys must rest her eyes. Jonnel offers to take first watch, and the others are happy to oblige.

In a trice, Alys is jostled awake. “Quietly, my lady,” Jonnel whispers. “There is something in the tree line. Prepare yourself.” She moves stand. As Jonnel unsheathes his steel, she moves to grab her bow. Body laid low, she does not even know if she has the strength to nock an arrow, but the weight is a comfort in her hand. 

The leaves rustle further, putting everyone on high alert. Finally, they break, out of which come two of the largest wolf pups she has ever seen.They are fighting; no, they are wrestling. One grey, one black, they playful pair are clearly siblings. Alys sucks in a breath. 

“They are direwolf pups,” Vayon whispers under his breath. “The sigil of your house, my lady.”

“Impossible,” Rodwell says. “Direwolves haven’t been seen south of the wall in at least a century.”

Until now. Alys quietly moves forward, so as not to startle them. She hears a chorus of “Be careful, my lady,” and “Alys, stop.” Shushing them, she squats low, holding open her palm. The wolf pups stop, and cock their heads. The grey one is more leery, preferring to watch, but the black comes right up to her hand, nudging it before rolling over to expose her belly. 

“Hello, my girl. Have you been waiting for me?” Alys coos. The wolf pup’s orange eyes cut through her. I dreamt you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. She rubs her pup’s belly, watching her tongue lob as she smiles.

Alys turns back toward her companions, ignoring their shock. “Joseth, Vayon, search the wood for any sign of the mother. Based on the feel of this one, it has been some time since she ate. I assume the mother is dead, but we must be sure.” Joseth and Vayon nod, and make their way into the tree line. “Holly, check to see if Nan packed some milk for the first night’s journey. If she hasn’t, we’ll stop at the next town. They look nearly weaned, but it's best to be safe.” 

“Alys, you can’t mean to keep them!” she hisses.

“Holly is right, my lady,” says Jonnel. "A direwolf is no pet. Even a pup can tear a man’s arm clean from his shoulder.”

“I do not mean to keep them, Ser. I only mean to keep the one. Rodwell,” Alys says, turning toward the lad, “come closer so that you make the grey pup more familiar with your scent. When your father returns, you both will take it toward Last Hearth. You should meet my brother along the way. Present it to him, for it is his by right.”

“Alys!” Holly exclaims. 

“I dreamt them, Holly,” Alys says firmly, tone brokering no argument. “They are the sigil of our house. They are meant to be ours; mine and Creg’s.”

“You dreamt them?” she whispers. Alys nods. Though perturbed, Holly complies. 

Alys picks up her pup, who burrows into the embrace. She grabs some meat from the provisions, and gives her a bite before gently laying down to rest. She trusts Jonnel and Holly to ensure her orders are followed.

Her pup curls up against her on her mat. She smiles, petting her back. “You’ll be called Frenya,” she whispers as the direwolf snuggles in closer. “We will always protect each other, you and I. Always.”

Alys shuts her eyes. When she dreams, this time it is not of wolves, but of the sea. 

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