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The Heart Bestowed

pronouns: she/her warnings: none that i am aware of, feel free to correct me in dms :) summary: Jacaerys loves nothing more than a duty fulfilled. Y/n has other impressions. Ever since they were young, they presumed that they would some day find one another in the Sept amongst family and reciting practiced vows to one another. However, they could not be more different nor more infuriated in their joined presence. Neither of them have any greater desires than to quell the other...So why do they feel so disappointed when they are both betrothed to another? disclaimer: this is fanfiction for asoiaf/house of the dragon, i do not give permission for my writing to be translated or copied whatsoever pairing/s: Jacaerys Velaryon x Tyrell!Reader dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 8,144

120 AC. When Two Foes Begin

Y/n tilts her head as her eyes take in the strange boy’s dishevelled appearance. Her lids turn her eyes to slits. “You have a leaf in your hair.” She comments. Usually this would be a compliment–the girl probably loved nature more than a Targaryen, their dragon. She threads the court girls’ hair with flowers every morrow, which she is doing at this sensitive moment as her fingers peel through pale strands and embed larkspur into the crevices. Her own locks are braided with daisies though he cannot comprehend how she managed to fit them all in with the sheer density of it. The boy with brown hair rolls his lips into his mouth, bites down and frowns at her. Hair had been a topic he had been criticised upon often. He should not be surprised that the little Tyrell girl thought the same. “Better a leaf than a spider.” He snaps briskly, all too used to defending the castle of stone in where his insecurity lies. The girl gasps and shoots her hands into her own locks as quick as an arrow flies. Perhaps if she were not here then he would be able to occupy his time flying arrows instead of pretending not to be as bored as a dormouse. Her wide eyes turn on Helaena as Jacaerys begins cackling. “Hela, you promised!” She exclaims, the Targaryen princess returning her shock. “You told me they were still in your room!” “They are sleeping.” Helaena’s soft voice melodies no louder than that of the very dormouse skittering through Jacaerys’ very soul. The boy sighs.

“Are you a child? You are acting as if you are one. How fearless.” Jacaerys snickers then smirks slyly. “I am willing to bet five dragon coins that you are the younger, aren’t you? Posing as the elder to attract my aunt’s attention.” The way her eyes narrow and settle their attention back onto him only heightens his entertainment. He intends to quip once more but a familiar supercilious voice drifts closer and he rolls his eyes. “And had I not known you, I would have presumed you to be the youngest of your line and yet the Lady seems all too aware of her status. Something that you clearly lack, nephew.” Either child turns to look at the Targaryen picking at his nails to pretend the conflict is not anxiety-ridden. That jumps an idea into the almost-heir’s mind. “Perhaps it is genetics then, seeing as Daeron’s sword can strike thrice the battle yours would. I could presume that–” “You are both foolish.” Y/n interrupts and her hand dips to take Helaena’s. Squeezing. “We are leaving. Helaena is to show me the library. Good day.” It is swift that she leaves, Jacaerys’ aunt trailing behind her slightly as she giggles. The boys however seem unable to dispel the attention she directs, staring long after she is gone. “A shame that your wife and yourself are not yet accustomed to one another.” Aemond smirks with only the slightest twitch of his lip. Jacaerys wrinkles his nose. “Gross, what are you saying? She is not my wife, she is an insufferable girl who makes my eyes sore.” Jacaerys mutters then grimaces at the mere thought. His uncle doesn’t utter a noise but they both understand the growing gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps not yet but she will be. You should know how quickly alliances are forged. Brother of mine own is to marry our sister in the growing years, perhaps you can share together your day of nuptials and all that comes alongside it. I am sure that he would delight in this revelation himself.” “You speak as though you are excused from this fate.” “That is because I am. You forget I am a second-son.” The Targaryen prince ignores the Velaryon’s grumbles.

132 AC.

A dahlia is strapped to her wrist, he notes, watching her. He thought she didn’t like dahlias. It is an off cream colour, not quite possessing the purity of white. It is rare that she would wear such colours, teal gowns usually consume her and yet today she is not wearing one at all, she is wearing a colour reminiscent of the peaches bundle in her arms. She cradles them like they are her own kin. She looks beautiful. More beautiful than he has ever seen her despite the splotches of dirt and vibrant grass stain painting her dress. Jace questions himself why the urge to bow possesses him. She has grown into her Tyrell roots it seems, her steps elegant and handing the small fruits to the children of the city. Jace hides behind a pillar as he gazes, it has been just a year since he last saw her. Just a year and she looks exactly the same and different all at once. He should have prepared for that, he thinks as his stomach tumbles about obscenely and taunts his gut for choosing wrong. He shushes his brother who talks raucously with one of the common folk. His wishes are fruitless. His eyes longing. His feet locked to the floor in order to prevent their unreasoned desires. Her hand reaches into the small basket and squeezes one of the fluorescent yet pale fruits before handing it to a small child, perhaps no bigger than a direwolf pup. Her…

He can’t bring himself to speak her name even silently in his head; it feels far too scandalous. Perhaps it is. Jace likes that word because it sounds like them. Perhaps. Perhaps he will visit her, perhaps he will speak with her, perhaps he will be happy at her side. Perhaps… He wonders why her hair is in those intricate tangles, well not tangles but he cannot summon the phrase, it always looks pretty much like the rose of her name but something feels different this time. Jace wonders if she would too think him pretty. As the thought surfaces he cannot help but feel guilty as he imagines the sweeping swirl that his tongue would gladly deliver around her finger. The one where juices flow freely down her forearm. He swallows. Gods be good. Jace looks back at the once girl now woman. He looks at the odd twig in her hair, the way her dress doesn’t quite reach her feet. Intentional–he’s sure. She knew that she would be walking around although as he hears her laughing, her hair dipping to catch in one of the children’s eyes (to which they swat), he assumes that she did not intend to stay as long as she has. It was been just thirty minutes since he started peeking over at her but it is unknown how she has been skipping and circling the children. One of their small hands dart out at her back and she squeals, the sound more like a birdsong. It looks like a game but once Jace is unfamiliar in. He wonders if she is always this way with children…He wonders if this would be what she would look like amongst their own. Their own. Not her own. Their own. A deepening blush creeps up his veins until blossoming up his face. He wants to brush them away with his hands but that would be foolish.

He glances down at his frozen feet and curses him. He knows they will not move. He refuses to let them and yet he still curses them. His hand dips into his pocket to feel the long-crinkled petals that lie there.

120 AC. The Dragon Incident.

“He stole Vhagar!” Jacaerys seethes, anger steaming on his young face. “He called us bastards–!” “So you carved out his eye?” Y/n yells back, horror filling her face. Her brows are knitted and her lips are twisted downward. Jacaerys’ stomach attempts to devour itself, sharp teeth suddenly becoming unleashed and ripping at his insides like a morbid beast. Bile sews up his throat before hitting his tongue. “Look at him!” Her hands cradle his uncle by his hair and stroke it gently. Jacaerys’ jaw locks and a huff leaves his nose. His uncle looks down, clenching his fists. “You need not fight my battles.” Aemond hisses. “You need not, truly.” “We are children, you are family! Nobody should be fighting anybody.” The girl roars, every inch a beast as powerful as Vhagar in that moment but neither boy changes their stance. Jacaerys huffs and lets his eyes latch onto her hand, running through Aemond’s white curls. A fire burns up his spine. “You seem all too pleased with that fact, if only you could keep your tongue as still as your mind.” The words taste too bitter on his tongue but he chews them out anyway. Her fierce eyes narrow. Her hair sways at the velocity in which she turns her head, the yellow hyacinths in her hair on the verge of falling once her attention returns to him. “I think you both are in far more need of that ability than I.” It is the first time he has felt ashamed. Her eyes drop to Aemond, fingers still carting through his hair. “Aemond, your sisters, name them.” he glares ahead petulantly.

“I have but only one.” He grumbles but her fingers yank sharply and he yelps. “H-Helaena!” She tugs again. “Helaena and Rhaenyra!” He sputters and the Tyrell girl does look far too pleased as she stands to grasp one hand into Jacaerys’ tunic who gulps with wide eyes. “And your mother? Her name.” “R-Rhaenyra!” He sounds out quickly, not wishing for the same sore locks as his uncle. Y/n smiles. She actually smiles. “Good. A common meaning.” Jacaerys winces as she lets go of her rough hold. “You are neither sweet hearted nor graceful.” Jacaerys whines and winces as she lets go of her rough hold. “I am not sure that you are Tyrell at all.” “Perhaps we have been lied to.” His uncle grumbles in agreement. Despite their sentiments against her, the girl beams at their shared discussion. “I hope you enjoy yourselves, my princes.” She curtsy though mock hangs like a banner over them. She snickers to herself as she glides away swiftly. Jacaerys sighs once more and rolls his dark eyes. Aemond folds his arms and they sit down in silence until… “Did you like it?” Aemond asks hesitantly. Jacaerys’ eyes narrow again. “Did I like what?” He snaps. “When she tugged you.” Any retort already built dies on his tongue. A deep flush floods his face. “Of course not.” He denies with haste but his eyes resemble a doe’s as he watches after her.

132 AC.

They are in a large hall, so distant yet so close, as their eyes lock on the other. He smiles at the sight of her hair–no longer so untidy as just hours before. A circlet is delicate upon her brow and loops in the crown of her head and even further back across it. Pink rose petals, real or fake he cannot discern, line it beautifully. Gold compliments her well, he decides and especially in contrast to the soft blue of her gown. Briefly he wonders what she would look like in yellow. Vibrancy. Her colours seem pale as of late, almost unsure. Another thought severs his mind. She is smiling back–no–she is smiling at him. His smile trips for only a moment before it returns taller than ever, he raises his cup and only drinks from it after she reciprocates the motion. Y/n’s eyes wander across the room, sweeping every lord, lady, maid, stray chef, even his drunken uncle. They darken, her eyes, as they explore. Does she like the gem-encrusted candles his mother likes to harbour? Why would she like the candles? Well, what of the cups then? Are they to her liking or shall he replace them all after they are wed. He bites his lip but then she is looking at him again. Warmth waves across the table with a flick of her wrist. He loves it. He loves it dearly. Beautiful, he thinks. Jace thinks a lot of things. He even thinks about how easily he could sneak them both out and into the gardens. Jace could even request one of the lute players to join them, perhaps they could talk freely as he plays. He realises that he does not merely want to talk with her, he wants to murmur in her ear and wrap flowers between the strands of her hair the way she loves it. He wants to inspire each new colour she wears and accept every argument or praise she would bestow onto him. For the dagger of her quick tongue can feel like both the sweetest and only release a man should need.

He sips once more from his cup, the Dornish delight tickling his own tongue. He wonders if hers should feel the same. A glow echoes from her feet to her hair. It blooms her face, nutritious light dancing across her smile. The grin atop her lips is like golden dust both fleeting and familiar but beautiful nonetheless. Something he would later imprint into his memories. He likes to think of them that way, two dancing dusts of gold moving in tandem despite the wind around them. The firelight cannot distract him from her no matter how flirtatious. His eyes dip to glance at her wrist, he grins when he sees the pale dahlia. Then they meet hers again and he tilts his head to the side. A gesture known between them all too well. So, as they stand and their chairs scrape back. The dancing bodies envelop them enough to shield their bodies from the Queen’s prying eyes.

121 AC. The ‘Strong’ Incident.

She looks as though she has sucked a lemon dry. Jacaerys grimaces, nose wrinkled and brow furrowed. To say that Y/n Tyrell is a petulant Lady of the Reach would be too kind. He has detested her since the moment she clung to his uncle Aemond like a coddling mother. How she wiped the mud off his face and stroked back his hair. He scoffs at the memory. At the ever flowing memories that thread along his mind, stitching it in place as tight as a royal noose. A huff pushes through his nostrils as he stands opposite her at a mere five namesdays. His eyes narrow. “It’s ugly.” He sneers, referring to the rhododendron braided through her hair. She glares back. “You would know, would you not, mittys, afterall you are much further known in that field?” At her sharp utterance, his head snaps up and his eyes blow wide. “Where did you learn that?” He snaps. For the love of the Gods he hates the ill-inducing smile that twists her lips like an insipid snail. She is far too proud of herself, he decides whilst folding his arms. Her grin doubles. “Your uncle taught me.” The Tyrell teases, smirking with those prudish pink lips. He wants to slap away the smug glimmer in her eye but that would not be befitting of his station. Jacaerys clenches his fist to recall that. Instead he breathes. “Well he cannot even summon the correct grammar so he is hardly one to listen to.” The boy is proud when he sees irritation flash over Y/n’s face. He almost chortles at the sight. “At least he can string together a proper sentence!” She bites back. He scowls and turns his head to the side to pretend the creeping blush is from anger rather than embarrassment. She snickers as her eyes roam every birthmark or dot that lines the crevices of his face. He glances at his mother, already engaging with a strangely familiar looking woman. Oh. Your mother. Oh.

Jacaerys trains his gaze back on yours and stiffens his posture, arms folding behind his back like Aegon taught him, chin raised. “I do not want to marry you.” He tells her plainly. His words are firm and rehearsed but they take no offence. He is almost insulted when she lets out the most unladylike snort he has ever heard. “Then marry my sister.” She retorts, something playful dancing across her smile. Jacaerys drops his jaw in horror. “Your sister is four!” “Then do not whine to me of what you do or do not wish to do!” As they speak–or rather–argue, Y/n is hoisting up the skirts of her dress and adjusting her shoes. He ignores it. “I merely want us to understand one another.” He attempts, resurging his confidence. She ignores him now, fussing with her hair and wrenching it away from her face. He grimaces once more and glances at their mothers who embrace each other, not in the least concerned of their children’s enjoyment. “And if we are to understand each other then we shall-oh for the heavens, what are you doing?” The prince watches as her hand glides upon a tree branch and latches to it snug into her palm. Her snickers emit as she slings a leg around another. “Escaping!” He gapes at the strange girl. “Escaping? Escaping from what?” “You. You bore me like no other and I find myself in dire need of entertainment.” “I do not bore, you bore me!” Jacaerys continues to twitter even as she clambers through the intense leaves and ducks between branches. “Is this what Tyrells do? Climb trees and allow their smallclothes to the public eye? Be careful you ought to fall.” His voice extracts another yelp of amusement.

“Why? So that your Strong arms oughten to catch me? You are of your namesake, yes, Prince Strong?” Y/n rolls her eyes but before she has the time to argue further, she yelps and falls through the various greenery until falling flat on her back and winces. A groan parts her lips and wrinkles her brows. A gasp calls from the opposing side as the Lady Tyrell and Realm’s Delight skitter toward the fallen child. He bites his lip to quieten a laugh while they drop to her side. “Are you quite alright, my sweet?” Your mother asks, wispy voice wittering. She catches your arm and cheek, eyes scanning over every inch. “Jacaerys,” His mother hisses but conveniently his sights are elsewhere. He grasps a pile of amaryllis flower petals. He doesn’t know how they got there but they are pretty regardless.

132 AC.

The night glimmers with sparkling light, each one more beautiful than the last. “I had almost thought to request a dance of you,” Jace chuckles. “Though that might have been unseemly, as we are not yet betrothed, officially at least.” “I had almost asked, myself.” Y/n retorts back, grinning impishly. She looks down at their feet as they walk, she almost laughs when he performs a little skip. He nods, eyes glazed as they roam his sight across her face. In a sudden move he flicks her nose. Her face flinches and parts her lips. She blinks back to see his smirking face. “What are you–” Jace pretends his eyes are skimming over her in nothing but thought, nose suddenly wrinkling. “Ah yes, I had thought that no such beauty such as your own could be true. I wonder what altered my sights so,” He is grinning wildly but she does not find the comment amusing. A huff bubbles in her and she hoists up her skirts. “How dare you!” She bellows. Jace laughs with greedy entertainment as he begins to skip backward. She runs after him, attempting to hide her delight. “You best apologise for scorning me, Velaryon!” She has to call as she chases him, ducking under branches and attempting not to slip in the thick mud. He glances back at her and cackles at the otherworldly display. She scoffs. His laughter takes control until he is doubling over in amusement which gives Y/n the perfect opportunity to strike a stiff arm across his body and send him crashing to the floor with her body atop his. She pins his wrists above his head and smirks as he wriggles. She beams proudly down at him. “Apologise.” She demands. He grimaces, laughter not yet stopped. “As if!” He dispels.

And all too suddenly, he stops. Jace stops and he looks up at her and his breath stutters. “Do you intend to keep me here? At your mercy?” “I did so when we were children.” She teases to which he quickly rolls his eyes. “When we threw mud and ducked beneath trees.” He interrupts her speech with a chuckle. Her palms soften and slide onto the ground instead. “Do not laugh at me,” “I am not laughing!” He defends. His fingers glide around her wrist. Y/n’s breath hitches. Her eyes flit down at him. As her grip loosens she plummets until their chests touch. Never one to back down from a challenge and yet she fumbles with wide eyes and shallow breath. The prince grins and chuckles as he laces two hands along her waist. His eyes glitter with excitement. “Your lineage was correct at least once.” He murmurs. He spots a row of rogue daisies dotting her hair. “You are so alluring that you have me utterly captivated.” A lump clogs her throat, her breath turns almost so shallow that it hides from her. “And you are as headstrong as the dragon demands.” She breathes out. “We are unchaperoned.” He purrs, a finger raising to stroke his cheek. She swallows and lets her irises track it. “We are.” Crickets dance around them, unseen but their noise unrelenting. His lids lower as the flower leans closer. “It is pretty.” He whispers below his breath. “What is?” “In your hair,” he gestures with a pink hue. She doesn’t have to hear him to know what he is speaking of. “Perhaps…our marriage could be like your hair.” Her brow furrows. “Wild…ever-changing…beautiful…a garden.” A soft smile caresses her face. “I would like to grow our…garden together.” The stars glow above them. As if the fates design it themselves, Jace feels his own smile beginning to warm. “I too...” He breathes. “I too.”

122 AC.

Glares are often exchanged over the dining hall but instead they appear beside a dreary river. It looks utterly soiled and murky. The prince wrinkles his nose. “I’m not going in.” He denies to which the little girl at his left snickers. “I did not ask it of you.” The flower unlaces her boots, huffing as she discards the knotted tangles. “Then what are you doing?” He shifts in discomfort. “I am swimming.” She snickers in retort, “Do not be foolish, that water is freezing.” “But it has water lilies!” Y/n argues tugging at her bodice. She huffs at the trickiness. His hand reaches out to grasp her wrist as she shuffles out of her large skirt. “If our mothers knew that I had let you, they would string me up by my cloak!” “So do not tell them! They will never discover it!” With a twist of her hands she tosses him in the lake below with great ease.

The two highly esteemed most certainly did discover it when their two squabbling children returned to them soaked from head to toe. “Your fault.” Jacaerys hissed at her but she merely stuck her tongue out, as if it had been her intention all along.

132 AC.

The prince stands before the painter, sighing as time whittles away. It is already noon, morning past and yet he cannot escape preening hands or bothersome hands. The excessive garments weigh heavily on him. They feel more like vines than fabrics. His eyes cast to look at the cloudy sky as the gentle blues expose themselves. He is glad that they are not in a shade as spritely as his clothes. It is an odd wonder that he used to love blue so deeply and yet now it shackles him. “And how many more strokes should I be expecting?” Jacaerys asks. The artist before him chokes–presumably on his own saliva–then clears his throat. “Apologies, my lord, what is it that you–?” “Brush strokes, friend. Brush strokes,” A glimmer of enjoyment twinkles in his brown irises. “Ah.” The painter croaks with a flush up his neck. A snicker parts the prince’s lips but an abrupt snap of the doors halts his short entertainment. Jace’s eyes quicken to find a grey dress and solemn face. His grin slips. “My dear, I was not expecting you but it is welcome.” He almost stutters, wanting for nothing but to take a step closer to her. He curses his feet for disobeying his desires. Jace quickly sews back his smile but perhaps too tightly.

“I thought it best for us to confer in discretion.” The words leave her lips stiffly and as he watches her move he sees a similar firmness in her posture, her stance, her stuck limbs. Jace glances at the painter. “Yes, you are quite right. Ser, would you–?” “No, that is quite alright.” She interrupts, trying to smile but it looks as frozen as the force of her smile. Tensity grapples the air, squeezing it tight. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. "I didn't know what it meant." She utters quietly, refusing to raise her eyes to meet his. Jacaerys watches as she swallows slowly and takes a deep breath, holding it in her lungs as though it would flee from her the moment she spoke once again. "When I...When I called you that word." Tensity rattles him, locking his bones. "I'm sorry. It was cruel and unbefitting and you did not deserve it." Silence holds them stiff like the portrait itself yet the artist himself holds little hesitancy. "You were a child." He speaks. She finally looks at him and everything inside him goes soft at her gaze. "So were you." And suddenly everything feels different and the same all at once. He does not know whether what he has gained is what he has lost. He wants to move, walk or run toward her, it matters little. Anything his body would allow but it does not. He stays frozen. Watching as she slowly steps back, the slightest dip in her mouth as she regains her composure. Her head dips, eyes fleeting.

Jacaerys has not screamed since he was a child but suddenly he wants a change of heart. Regardless of duty. Regardless of honour. The two things he holds most dear behind his family. “I have news.” “Oh?” He tries not to let his voice shake despite surrendering to the quietness. “An announcement has been made–two in fact.” His brows furrow. “And what have we to do with them? Have our mothers’ meddling persisted?” Jacaerys’ smile returns but something flickers beneath his eyes. “Your flowers…Where have they gone?” She doesn’t answer. Lady Y/n Tyrell merely takes a deep breath. “We are to be wed.” The spark lights up again and he claps, startling the artist. “Oh, Y/n, I have–” “To other people.” Her Ladyship corrects, eyes flitting up at him from the floor. “Yourself and Baela shall live happily in Dragonstone and I will live at Lord Stokeworth’s side. We are finally free. My congratulations, my prince. I have enjoyed our short time together.” “My lady, I–” “I am not your lady anymore, your highness. Now if you would excuse me…” She walks away and he swears he cannot stop himself from counting each quiet step. He does not feel like Jace anymore. He feels like Jacaerys, prince and future heir to the Iron throne.

126 AC.

‘And then you throw a cloak over her which I still do not comprehend.’ Aegon’s handwriting explains in rough scribbles so filled with the ever increasing bubbles of rage that only a sixteen year old forced to marry his own kin can muster. Jacaerys chuckles quietly at the tear in paper at the centre where a convenient ink splotch lays. A farce of a marriage his uncle and aunt possess and yet there is something bitter in Jacaerys’ snickering. This will be his own fate soon, he is merely lucky that his mother has not been hounding him with it, not forcing him to kiss the weird Tyrell girl’s hand or invite her to dance. He sighs in thought as he thinks of her and the stupid petals that are no doubt swaying in her hair. He can see it, even when he tries not to, he can see her nose wrinkle and scrunch, he can see her eyes cloud with childish amazement as another boy asks her to dance instead–one of the Lords old enough to be his uncle and strange enough to want her grimy hands on them. He bets that they are caked in dirt–they always are–and he can see the oddly shaped and unfitting rings that she adorns, all in the patterns of thorns or flowers. He is tired of listening to her babble to them whenever he sits beside her at feasts. He wishes frequently that he would take the seat beside one of his brothers or cousins.

He continues reading the crumpled letter and reluctant recount of the royal wedding. A princess and a prince destined to tear the other at the seams, he muses to himself. He wonders what Y/n will look like at their own wedding, she always has her hair twisted funny and her dresses are ridiculously large. He does not understand why she bothers with them when she throws them off to jump into the lake every chance she can reach. Surely she would not wear green like Helaena did although that is the prioritised colour of her house. He supposes that would bother him not though with the sage colour she wears so often. But should a wedding not be an excessive expression? Had Helaena looked as miserable as she felt walking up to her new husband or had she braced herself enough to don a reluctant stone mask? Will Y/n look miserable too? Will she throw things at him like she had when she last visited and pommel him again with the force of her fists? To her respect, he had been at fault for taunting her and snatching the lavender flowers from her hair. Would they mind that they would marry in a Sept or beside fire? Will it bother her or would she like it? His thoughts swirl as the parchment’s words grow less intense. The ink starts to fade, replaced by insufferable girls and insufferable promises. Will it be warm or cold? She hates the cold but she hates a lot of things. Will she have to stop climbing trees when she’s Queen? He supposes she will but he’s not quite sure why he hates that idea. There’s something he likes about her calloused hands. He rubs a thumb over his palm as he remembers the last time they danced, it must have been the year before but it threads in his memory with the sound of a well-strung lute. Jacaerys loves music, which is why it is so irritating that he can recall the shade of her eyes with ease and yet not a single note plays in his ears. He cannot even remember whether he had liked it or not.

132 AC.

The door almost snaps from its hinges when the young prince bursts through. “What did you do?” He asks his mother immediately, watching as her eyes widen and she chokes on her wine. The princess takes her time to collect herself and slowly lowers the glass. Blood pumps in his ears so loudly that he almost doesn’t notice his own trembling fingers.“Whatever do you mean, Jacaerys?” “You are betrothing me to Baela?” His mother sighs and looks down, lips parting to respond. “Why should she not? You turn aside every other girl that your mother suggests.” Daemon utters, gliding through the door. He takes his regular brisk and composed steps until settling his hands on Rhaenyra’s chair from behind her. He raises his eyebrows. “Or have you finally made up your mind on who shall be not only your Queen but the Kingdom’s one day.” Rhaenyra turns the rings on her fingers quickly. The prince scoffs. “I know that arranged marriages are not your preferred method but your grandsire is growing very ill, Jacaerys, he should be able to see you wed. It will be the first ceremony he could witness since his own.” The irritation grapples him and squeezes like a vice. “Then do not betroth me to Baela, betroth me to Y/n like you were supposed to!” Jacaerys shouts. A silence rings through the air, a ticking clock quirks at the top of his mother’s head, slowly working her mind to understand his words. She blinks. “The Tyrell girl?” She finally asks, face screwed up and eyes clocking back and forth aimlessly. “I never intended for such a match, I thought you hated her.” Daemon’s face tenses and so does his posture as he folds his arms. Jacaerys’ face becomes even more flushed as the hour passes. “I-I, well, I had but she–I don’t…” His breath grows haggard and huffs.

He strikes a harsh hand through his hair and grips it painfully. The boy bites his lip, suddenly falling small again. “I wanted to. I wanted to marry her, I just…No, I want to marry her. Either I did not know yet for being too foolish and youthful that I thought her to be a trap or I did not want to admit it but now I do and I just want her. I want all of her. Every inch she will give unto me. I want her thorns and her petals, of every season I want to keep her in summer and love. I will travel anywhere to keep her warm, I will command flight, I will command ships, I will even command the stars and sun if she wishes so to force the day to stretch as long as she wishes. I want to give her summer. I want to be her summer. I want to give her myself in every way possible. She has more beauty than I have ever seen and more beauty than I deserve.” His throat tightens even more. “Mother, please let me be her summer, I will do anything you request of me just as I have always done but I will marry no other woman, I swear to the heavens high and low.” He stares into his mother’s eyes, Daemon long forgotten as her fingers stop their flickering of rings. The light catches on the one of gold and amethyst. The shade of his worry and the shade of Baela’s eyes. He knows that he cannot walk onto the stones and before the fires only curated to worship the Gods of Old Valyria and lie to them. It would not only seek him damnation but a life of agony. He knows he cannot willingly look in her eyes and gaze like he does the only beauty he has ever truly known because it is not she. It will never be she. There is but one dream in his heart and he will not let the rebounding tricks and lights of amethyst save him.

“Rather odd that you have had such an enthralling change of heart but I see no reason for such extremities.” Daemon almost growls, the insult burning hot in his ears. “My daughter is beautiful and of pure blood I commend you for your childish songs, I am sure the bards would be proud but I am not. There is no reason for you to deny her of being Queen. It is a title we both know her blood and nature is worthy of.” “Rhaena is betrothed to Luke.” He starts again shakily and glaring into his stepfather’s eyes hard as steel. “If it is your bloodline you wish to prosper then I shall abdicate without fight.” Just as quickly as the words slip past his lips, Rhaenyra’s ring falls. A memory flashes through both the adults’ minds. One in which a man was just as quick to toss his crown. Just as quick to deny himself the power he had always craved just to marry a woman with silver hair and a sharp tongue. And while he was desperate to marry a Queen, the boy before them now was willing to marry nothing more than a flower. Both their eyes tread curiously on him. “Abdicate?” Rhaenyra tests the word on her tongue, an unfamiliar one, it slips across her taste buds–too quick yet too thick. Too heavy and yet he says it with ease. As though it is the only passing thought in his head. Daemon’s own invasive sights are unrelenting. They strike through him as threatening as a sword to his neck, if he moves it will do more than nick him. Something twists in his gut when Daemon’s lips part. “That will not be necessary, will it, doñus ābrazȳrys?” He cuts into the thick cake but it is unclear whether it is filled with stone or honey. His violet eyes slowly track up to Jacaerys’. “I believe a wedding is in order…” The silence weighs heavily while a scream begs to claw up the boys’ throat. “Let us hope the thorns are gentle with us.” A sigh passes Daemon’s lips and his shoulders soften as he leaves.

128 AC.

“Oh.” He murmurs quietly, back straight and eyes darting. “Oh?” Lucerys hisses, brows raised and fiddling with his fingers. Anyone looking at him could tell he looks utterly drenched in a sea of nerves that rise slowly to attempt and drown him. “Oh is not what you say your betrothed is dancing with our uncle. ‘Oh’ is when someone tells you they have lost their toad or-or their cat ate a mouse.” Jace rolls his eyes. “Unlike you I do not care who she dances with, she can enjoy herself as she pleases.” Lucerys huffs and turns to glance at Rhaena at his side. She snickers. Jacaerys continues watching Y/n, watching as she twirls and joins hands with Aemond and then clapping them. He watches the shimmer that the candlelight shines on her necklace. He watches. He always watches but he never does anything. “Why should I care? If anything I should be encouraging it, maybe he can keep her attention long enough that she stops following me to my High Valyrian lessons, stops squawking in my ear.” “She doesn't squawk.” Baela defends with a chuckle.His eyes narrow, still locked on her. “Besides she is rather helpful, you ought to listen to her if she is to be your wife.” The tease is light on her tongue but it squeezes his chest. He nods stiffly and folds his hands together behind his back. He glances down. “Perhaps…” He agrees begrudgingly.Baela slaps his back. “Good.” “You know, she wouldn’t be dancing with him if you had asked her.” “Yes she would, she would do it to spite me.” His lip twitches like the tail of a smirk.

“Truly you are not going to marry him?” Aemond asks, the back of his hand caressing hers although it strikes little attention. The Tyrell does not have to look to know who he is speaking of, her answer is as swift as the flick in her wrist. “I have not yet decided, my friend.” Aemond grins wolfishly and lets his chuckle last. “A shame for the masses, I suppose for you to be shackled by the bonds of marriage, you were not made for it. That I am certain of.” “Then you must not know me well.” She smirks, eyes glinting with mischief. “Not that that would surprise me, you have horrendous taste in brides.” He wrinkles his nose. “And how have you decided that?” The length of her skirts twist around her, the patterns raucous. “Go on, tell me. I have not yet taken a bride of my own.” “Which is precisely why you have horrendous taste in brides.” The music grows louder, hiding his scoff from the fellow noble people. “I am the same age as you, why should I have taken a bride?” “Because they seem to either run from you and flock like a series of swans.” She grimaces. “It is rather irritating the way they stare.” “Yes well I am sure you do the same,” He teases. Her gaze turns hard on him but it only encourages his long for mischief. “I think I would rather find Luke and gouge my own eye out.” Aemond huffs but does not react in malice. He catches her sleeve in retort, resulting in a stumble. “Funny.” “Hm,” He agrees, his sly smile returning. “He would not be horrible, I suppose and especially not compared to the other men at court.” Aemond pulls a disagreeable expression and glances at his petulant nephew whose stare is as deep as an embedded knife. Aemond almost feels him twisting the hilt into his chest. He also so happens to pretend he cannot see her growing blush. “You are entitled to an opinion…even if that opinion is as incorrect as a worm flutters its wings.”

132 AC.

It is not an odd place to find a Tyrell Lady seated in the gardens admiring the vegetation but it still manages to halt the prince’s steps. Jacaerys feels himself freeze. She is just sitting there, a few other ladies and lords about courting but she is there…and for the first time since he was fourteen he watches her, truly watches her. As her hand dips to pluck a white rose between lithe fingers, her eyes dart around her to make sure no one has seen but he is behind her, hidden within the eyes of an observer. He runs honeysuckle between his fingers, unsure whether time is restraining him or prompting him because she looks so peaceful. He almost does not want to disturb her. Would she be happy with him, Lord Stokeworth, if he left her at her peace? He had not thought to ask. For the first time he wants to know what she wants for he has only brought about her sense of dread and bubbled anger. His breath hitches. He loves her. He can feel it growing and blossoming as fresh as the flowers in his hand. It calls to him, begs him to stare one moment longer. He watches her. He wants to cherish her, hold the skies for her, he wants to do any and everything and yet he has not the courage to ask her the same. The blossoming flower of his hope wilts in fear between her hands.

He watches her hair, so vibrant with youth and the last effects of their childhood. The bleach of sun is warm in her locks. She likes the sun, would Lord Stokeworth give her that? Or would he keep her locked away like so many men would dream just to keep her to himself. So stiff, she had been, when she had spoken with him. Was this not what she wanted? To be rid of him? Perhaps she could escape Lord Stokeworth but she could never escape a prince. Should he leave her this freedom? It is selfish that he wants her to stay, to stay with him, at his side but he cannot help wanting it so. He should be hoisting her over the wall instead of watching her in the gardens. Y/n needs freedom not him. She will never need him…Not like he needs her. And so Prince Jacaerys takes a step back. It is painful to look at her, Jacaerys gathers, his heart wrapped in thorns. His breath is shaky as he watches her soft fingers stroke the gentle petals. He has honour but he does not have the grace to leave her just yet. Not when she looks so beautiful.

Her dress is a pale teal, he always liked that colour on her, it is her favourite because it reminds her of seafoam. She wore it to a ball once, with a masquerade mask settled on her nose. Her eyes flit through the garden, he can sense that she feels him. She always knows when he’s there–even when he doesn’t want her to–and yet she doesn’t turn around. She does not turn to him, she does not call out to him. There are no flowers in her hair again, no remains of her desires. She is left utterly open to the world and yet hidden from him, he has nothing to analyse, no colours to discern her mood except the seafoam. The questions rebound in the inside of his mind, bouncing across like skittish rabbits. Jacarys’ hand lessens on the honeysuckle. He can almost hear its taunts ringing in his ear. He takes back another step, eyes still watching her as she turns the rose in her hand. His body twists before he can command it not to, slow steps making the choice for him but just as he is about to let the honeysuckle fall–

“Stop.” Her gentle voice calls and it is the only command he needs to stop but he cannot summon the strength to look at her. Not with those pretty doe eyes. The girl of Tyrell however stands up, her breath shallow as she watches him. The sun envelopes her like a sea of familiarity–her family seal sewn into her dress and yet the gold is belonging to a fool. She is to shine, not to sink into expectation. Jacaerys does not turn around but his hand stutters. Silence lingers in the cracks of their polished floorboards–their quick retorts lost and malnourished. Yet it is as familiar as the creaking wood it resembles, it matches the ignorance of caring for it. It is forever present and yet forever neglected. If you asked them to map it on a sketch, they could not tell you the rough edges or the spaces in where it shines but they could tell you where every last board of it leads. They belong to it as much as it belongs to them and perhaps it has been neglecting them too. Leaving them both curious and unsure without even taking the thoughts in stride. “Don’t go.” Jace’s ears prick up. That may have been the most vulnerable sound to ever grace her lips. He still does not turn his head. He cannot surrender to the hope but he will acknowledge it, letting his head turn softly to the side, his shoulders tensing with the desperation to look at her again. He swallows and he hears her own breath pause. “Do you want me to beg?” At that he quirks his lips and turns to her, slowly, tentative, nervous. “I…do not think that necessary.” He whispers, eyes slowly rising from the floor to meet her own and it is that moment that breaks. His restraint. He takes a step forward and so does she. For the first time…they are working in tandem. Together. Because that is all they needed. No honour. No quick wit. They only needed to release their hearts. To let them free.

Their eyes meet. “I brought you this.” He utters as her thoughts pace then halt. His fingers shake gently as he raises the bundle of honeysuckle. Y/n’s eyes don’t leave his own for even a mere moment, she only nods. Both their feet attract to each other like magnets until they are mere inches apart. With wilting trepidation, Jace lifts the flowers before settling the ring on her head. “A crown for my Queen.” He whispers. Their breath mingles, entwines. They join, holding one another. As Jace’s fingers let it become with her, her own rise to entangle in his. Her eyes flicker across his face. “I rather like that idea.” She responds, just as quietly. A sphere of gentleness immerses them. It holds them like the rarest of jewels. Like starlight itself. His breath hitches. “Will you...be my queen?” He murmurs. Her right hand cups his face and pulls it closer until their foreheads meet. Their noses brush. “If you will be my King.” His lips broaden into a grin and he nods–just softly. “I would be your anything.” He responds then leans in to finally after the years of triumph and battle and silent love connect their lips. Her own smile warms. “Then start with my everything.” A spark dances across as they press together, the line between them finally breaking. They have been bestowed the finest honour one could find. They have been bestowed a heart–not two but the old threaded into one. A new heart. The heart bestowed is a garden to rest in each of them. One for them to nurture together.

Valyrian Translations: mittys - fool

Flower Translations: daisies - innocence, new beginnings larkspur - lightheartedness, youth dahlias - commitment, kindness rhododendron - danger, caution amaryllis - pride, strength, determination pink roses - gentle love water lillies - majesty white rose - a new beginning, fresh start honey suckle - everlasting love

(feel free to ask me in my inbox/askbox if there is anything i have forgotten :))

The Heart Bestowed Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @beaconofthehightower @buglyberry

HOTD Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @adelusionalwriter @cookielovesbook-akie @maximofftwinsbitch @ughhthisbitch

Jacaerys Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @fairysluna @mrsgrwy

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solandis-does-stuff · 18 days

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Sometimes i think about the fact that Airplane made all the peak lords attractive because if he ever wrote a scene of them all fucking each other he wanted to make sure the readers wouldn't skip it

Bro, knew his audience could forgive a senseless sex scene but they wouldn't stand for ugly men getting some, gotta respect that

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solandis-does-stuff · 19 days

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head disciple shen yuan and his two little shidis who for some reason keep sneaking into the beast tamer peak ⛰️🐉

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solandis-does-stuff · 19 days

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If Shen Yuan would have transmigrated after realizing his sexuality, SVSSS would have been even more unhinged.

Like, he already notices the beautiful men he is surrounded by, but now these beautiful men could be an option for him. Sure, not LBH because he is the protagonist of a stallion novel, he will get his harem of pretty flowers, but the others! After all, if all women belongs to the protagonist, maybe it wouldn't be frowned upon for the men to be cutsleeves. Right? His cute little white sheep will have all the peerless beauties, but the other men who also deserve love and appreciation and care will have no one and that would be a crime.

Now, he just has to figure out which one of his beautiful and handsome and reliable and strong martial brothers is open to have a... a closer relationship with him. I mean, one of them has to be at least a little bit queer, right?! That's just statistics!

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solandis-does-stuff · 19 days

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beast peak's shixiong 🐲✨

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solandis-does-stuff · 22 days

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Look, i know that Shen Yuan died a virgin and while he had no sexual experience he canonly kissed before getting with Luo Binghe, but do y'all know what would be hysterical in my opinion? If Shen Yuan had a gaggle of ex girlfriends he left behind when he died. Now, you may be wondering, what's so hysterical about that? Well, for one, it just tinkles me pink to think that the same guy who indirectly died from how angry a webnovel he dedicated a great amount of time commenting on made him actually got/could get bitches but decided that verbally abusing Airplane over his shit writting sounded more fun. I also think that knowing the system he'd at some point fall victim to some type of plant or curse that'd force him to name all of his ex lovers out loud unless he wished to die while the rest of the sect watches. Can y'all imagine Yue QingYuan, Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge and fucking Airplane's faces while he's there naming "Yu YaoYao, Mei Ling, Jiang Qin, Fei Liao" plus who else with a pained look on his face while trying to guess if middle school and internet relationships also count??? Plus, i just know he rationalized any lack of sexual thoughts he had towards his exes with "Well, i can't think sexually of a woman who's not my wife, that'd be disrespectful"

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solandis-does-stuff · 26 days

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This is your home, too

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solandis-does-stuff · 1 month

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What if Merlin died?

Masterlist

Whatever battle they were fighting has been won. Barely.

Everyone is scraped and bruised and bleeding, but they ARE alive.

Gwen and Gaius are running the infirmary back at the castle, and that’s where the knights assume Merlin is as well, he is the physicians apprentice, after all.

Gaius and Gwen assume that Merlin is out on the battlefield, with Arthur, searching for survivors, he is the King’s manservant, after all.

Someone finds him at the edge of the battlefield, hands folded over his wound, leant against a tree, eyes closed; he knew that he was dying and he laid himself to rest.

Keep reading

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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“you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. We don’t have to be married to make a promise like that”

Yeah I cried??? What about it??

FanArt for chapter 15 of Tarnished Gold by Prim_the_Amazing

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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Getting these types of voice messages from the characters really makes me swoon lol. I'm looking forward to more of these 🥺

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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Nightbringer didn’t change why Lilith was punished in Lesson 12.

I keep seeing people misunderstand Lucifer’s explanation on Lilith. So I wanted to clarify some misconceptions I see being spread around.

In Obey Me Shall We Date we learn Lilith was punished for giving forbidden food from the Celestial Realm to save her sick human lover.

It’s also important to note that angels are prohibited from interfering in the lives of humans.

In Obey Me Nightbringer Lucifer explains,

“I told her she could never visit the human world again. I tried to convince her, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She said that someday the same thing would happen to me. I’d meet someone I loved so deeply that I’d be willing to throw away everything for them. And then I’d finally understand how she felt.”

This means Lilith has already used the forbidden food from the Celestial Realm to save the human she loved. Lilith knew she’d be punished for it but loved this human so much she was willing to throw away everything for him.

Lilith’s conversation with Lucifer, her interfering with the lives of humans, using forbidden Celestial Realm food and her views on humans angered Father.

Especially since they went directly against all that Angels and the Celestial Realm stood for.

Belphegor words it best,

“ . . . You see, Lilith loved humans. She loved humanity as a whole. She used to talk to me about them and how we underestimated them. You know angels and demons are always trying to protect humans, or guide them or whatever? Well, she said that was insulting to humans.”

All of this lead to the decision that Lilith would be given the Celestial Realm’s gravest form of punishment.

This punishment does match the description of the punishment mentioned in Obey Me Shall We Date.

Wiped from existence so that nothing was left. Meaning her existence in the Celestial Realm, Human World and Devildom. She’d lose her wings, be cast down into darkness and unable to be reborn. Forced to wander through the darkness for all eternity.

Lilith was already going to be punished for breaking the rules. The severity of the punishment though was because of Lilith’s love for humans.

This decision was something Lucifer couldn’t understand. Yes Lilith broke the rules but she did it out of love. A love so deep it paired with the brothers.

He believed love was something beautiful. Was the love Lilith felt really so wrong? This ended up leading Lucifer to questioning his Father.

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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1st set of svsss characters done!

SJ - LQG - YQY - MBJ - GYX - LBH (OG) - young LBH

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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He’s to old for this

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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Bingqiu roleswap where disciple Shen Yuan knows he's gay, and figures out that he has a big huge crush on his handsome Shizun, but also concludes nearly at once that he's not going to be drawing Luo Binghe's eye any time soon. Firstly, Luo Binghe is notoriously straight. Secondly, even if he weren't, he wouldn't go for his scrawny untalented nerd of a disciple! Shen Yuan's not bad looking, not before or after transmigrating, but he's neither a beautiful nor a hot manly man, and he assumes if Luo Binghe were into dudes he'd be into the same kinds of twunks that Shen Yuan likes. Guys on his own level, etc etc.

Plus Luo Binghe hated the original disciple Shen, and only started to warm up to the transmigrated version after Shen Yuan got injured in front of him trying to stop the other disciples on the peak from killing a small animal. For some reason, Luo Binghe brought Shen Yuan medicine. He got even nicer after Shen Yuan distracted the skinner demon by trying to convince it to take his skin instead of Luo Binghe's, and then again when Shen Yuan successfully fought off a demon invader -- though initially when Luo Binghe volunteered him for that job, he thought it was an assassination attempt. His heart was in his throat when Luo Binghe nearly took a poisoned blow for him, but luckily he reacted more quickly and got hit by the thorns instead. His heavenly demon blood took care of the poison, and he managed to convince everyone that he narrowly avoided getting cut at all.

Shen Yuan's careful not to read anything into it when Luo Binghe finds out about his, erm, uncomfortable dormitory situation and moves him into the side room, or when he completely messes up trying to make dinner and Luo Binghe takes over cooking and bans him from the kitchen (he swears he's not actually that bad at cooking, he just never had to use a kitchen without a microwave or an electric hot plate before...)

After all, it's not like Luo Binghe is cooking for him, he's just making food he likes and letting Shen Yuan eat it too! Because he's nice! He's way nicer than the book gave him credit for being, see, clearly Shen Yuan was correct in signing up for his defense squad, "top ten worst villains of all time" his ass that poll was nonsense...

Unfortunately, though, the plot's still gotta plot. Shen Yuan is heartbroken when the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around and his shizun stabs him and throws him down into the Endless Abyss. Heartbroken, but not surprised. After all, it was always going to go this way, wasn't it?

But at least, now that it's done, he has some agency in how he reacts to it. He's changed the story enough that he doesn't need to go get revenge. Maybe Luo Binghe's still the villain of his story, maybe that was inevitable, but some heroes let the villains get away. Don't they? It's all part of that noble, breaking the cycle of abuse type stuff. He can be that kind of hero. He can let it go. As long as he avoids Luo Binghe altogether, it should be fine, right? It's not like he's obligated to turn people into human sticks. He asked the system, he's definitely not!

Technically he's not even required to conquer the demon realms. He just has to get out of the Abyss and the be sufficiently cool and/or tragic. Conquest is just one means of doing that, and not even Shen Yuan's preferred, since he doesn't exactly want to rule over anybody. Going around the demon realms beating up some jackasses and rescuing some damsels in distress and becoming sworn brothers with Shang Qinghua, one of the current demon kings, is suitable. He definitely doesn't want to marry any of the damsels he encounters (thank fuck the system lets him off the hook for that!)

But eventually he has to go back to the human world. Not only is it mandated by the system, but he also misses living there. The demonic realms are in many ways better than expected, plus a lot of the monsters are really cool, but he misses the weather and plants and the people he's more accustomed to being around.

He misses Qing Jing Peak, if he's being honest with himself. Shizun's cooking and the bamboo forest and the crisp mountain breezes, the comforts of home.

Not that he can actually go back there in specific. Of course not. If he did that, Luo Binghe would try to kill him, or else the system would try and make him kill Luo Binghe. Bad ideas all around. No, he can't go back to Qing Jing Peak, but he can go find someplace nicer than the demon realms at least. He just has to keep a low profile, which shouldn't be hard since the original goods did that even while actively scheming to kill his former master!

Except.

Everywhere he goes, suddenly Luo Binghe is also there?!

Good thing Shen Yuan thought to take a page out of the book of Luo Binghe's actual love interest, Liu Mingyan, and start wearing a veil. He just didn't want any randos who might have seen him at the Immortal Alliance Conference or on any of the other missions his shizun sent him on to recognize him. But one minute he's investigating a strange case in Jinlan City, and the next the streets are full of Huan Hua cultivators (Shen Yuan has no intention of joining them, that's the path the original took to getting revenge! He doesn't want revenge!), and then Luo Binghe and Sect Leader MBJ and Peak Lord SHL show up, and SY is ducking down alleys and hiding behind columns, just trying to stay out of the way until the lockdown on Jinlan lifts and he can leave.

Except...

Luo Binghe really isn't acting like himself?

He looks like he hasn't been eating or sleeping well. There are dark circles around his eyes, and something almost melancholy in his countenance. And he's dressed entirely in white, none of the usual Qing Jing greens and blues anywhere to be seen. Of even greater concern, he's being reckless. Shen Yuan can't stop himself from rushing out when he sees his former shizun get infected by a sower demon.

Luckily, it's been some years since the last time they saw one another. Shen Yuan's gained a few inches in height, so he's almost at eye-level with his old master now, and though he's still more slender than bulky he's picked up some totally new styles from training the demon realms. He doesn't move the same way he used to. With that, plus the veil, it's enough for him to quickly swallow back his words as he grabs Luo Binghe and quickly administers a cure for the sower infection.

Well, he has one of course. He wouldn't need it himself, heavenly demon blood and all, but his time running around playing hero in the demon realms meant he rescued a lot of humans from such fates. Which is hard to do if you don't have a cure to their afflictions, but between him and Shang Qinghua, sourcing such things was almost easy.

Luo Binghe looks at him like he's just seen a ghost. The other Cang Qiong sect members are alarmed by SY suddenly accosting one of their own and of course find him suspicious, so he runs away right after, and then he has to lose Sha Hualing's pursuit in the city.

But what else could he do? He manages to evade the system's attempts to railroad him into meeting Gongyi Xiao, avoids the rest of the Cang Qiong crowd, and drops some of the cure through the current Qian Cao peak lord's window to get the incident sorted out. Then he flees and puts a good amount of distance between himself, Jinlan City, and every righteous sect he can think of.

The only problem is that after this point, Luo Binghe is everywhere.

Any time Shen Yuan stays in one place for longer than a few days, Qing Jing disciples start turning up. Any time he takes a job hunting some cool-sounding monster or pursuing some interesting tome of knowledge, the better to satisfy the system, it seems like Luo Binghe has selected and gone after the exact same target! Which is especially annoying because back when SY was a disciple, Luo Binghe was always assigning him to do this stuff. Since when does his chronic homebody master have an interesting in six-tailed scorpion lemurs or ancient spiritual kilns?

What's weirder, though, are the rumors.

It seems like any time SY stops at some well-populated place and asks for the latest gossip, he has to hear about how the Qing Jing peak lord lost his beloved disciple during the Immortal Alliance Conference, and mourned like a widow, and now wanders the earth in search of solace for his grief. Seeking something, possibly even the ghost of his dear disciple.

What nonsense! Luo Binghe threw SY into the Abyss himself. He had to do it, it was the plot! And also his obligation as a righteous cultivator, confronted with a "dangerous" half-demon. Does it sting? Yes it stings! That's why SY wouldn't just forget it! Despite logically knowing it's pointless, is there some part of him that wishes his master would have chosen differently? That thinks he should have known that no matter what kind of power Shen Yuan had, he would never use it to hurt people recklessly, or harm innocents, or especially not harm... well. It's pointless, his blood condemned him, and if there is some part of Luo Binghe which regrets what happened, it's doubtless just that he unwittingly harbored a monster for so long.

Which is fine and Shen Yuan would leave it at that, if the guy would just let him!

But no. Instead he has to deal with Luo Binghe turning up and asking him questions, trying to get him to talk (SY has no hope of disguising his voice, if he says anything he's not even sure it won't crack as he comes perilously close to tears instead, so he just stays silent), and then asking for his name, asking if he's mute, asking about his background, his sect, his kin. Is his a righteous cultivator? Where did he get that sword? (NOT Xin Mo, thanks, he used that thing once and then tossed it back into the Abyss before the portal finished closing behind him -- he knows a poisoned chalice when he sees one, although knowing the plot twist about that sword from the novel sure helped.) Where did he learn those forms? Is he... does he have a safe place to go home to? Someone to tend his injuries? Make sure he eats his meals?

SY, of course, stays silent. But it's difficult. Not only because Luo Binghe asks, but because he still looks... bad. Sunken, sorrowful, desperate almost. Shen Yuan can't figure out if he knows or not. Maybe he's unsure, maybe he's looking for SY to give him a sign, so that he can figure him out and then flip a switch and try to finish the job he started.

That can't happen. If they fight, SY will win, and he doesn't want to hurt Luo Binghe.

But even if Luo Binghe's not a heavenly demon, he is a highly accomplished cultivator, and it seems he's got his own breaking points to reach. Eventually he corners SY and gets a hand on his veil, and for a moment SY is sure he's going to rip it off, see his face, and confront him all "I knew it was you, you twisted evil demon, you won't escape justice a second time" and he feels a deep, icy terror close around his lungs--

Luo Binghe lets go of the veil before he can lift it.

But then something even worse happens. Because Shen Yuan's handsome, peerless, noble master breaks down. He falls to his knees, begging forgiveness, sobbing, clutching at his head like he's being driven to madness.

It all spills out of him, then. How he pushed his own dearest disciple into the Abyss, which obviously SY already knew, but also how he was apparently qi-deviating the whole time, and his senses could not differentiate between one kind of demonic "threat" and another. How he realized what he'd done only after he regained his senses hours later, and rushed back to the place where the tear to the Abyss had opened, but could not find a way in after the one he lost. How he had betrayed and thrown away the only person who cared about him, and couldn't even explain that he hadn't intended to. How he would accept anything, any punishment, hatred, penance, or revenge, if only he could see his disciple's face once more.

SY is stunned.

Apparently, Luo Binghe hadn't rejected him for his demon blood?

Not only that, but beforehand, he seemed to have valued Shen Yuan a lot more than Shen Yuan would have credited.

Is it a trick? Is he lying? SY would have guessed so, would have assumed that Luo Binghe's plan was to lull him into complacency only to turn on him once he finally had confirmation. But somehow, he just... doesn't think this is an insincere display. His old master is too cool for this stuff! He has too much dignity to just throw it away on a scheme! There are other ways to get what he wants.

Even if it is a lie, Shen Yuan is tired of running. He's the hero. He won't actually lose, and if it comes to it, it's still in his hands to decide if he wants to spare Luo Binghe or not (he does, of course he does, even if this whole spiel is an act). Plus he's got a backup plant body in one of Shang Qinghua's greenhouses if all goes to shit.

He takes the veil off himself.

Luo Binghe, teary-eyed, stares at him as if his face is the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Shen Yuan nearly puts the veil back on. His cheeks heat up. Dear Shizun, aren't you an immortal master? A noble peak lord? Isn't it your calling to vanquish demons? Get up off the dirty ground right this minute! Where did your dignity go? Shen Yuan did not spend all those nights doing the laundry to watch his teacher dirty his knees for no good reason!

There's a quaver in Luo Binghe's voice as he points out that Shen Yuan was terrible at doing laundry. Luo Binghe had to redo it the day after, all the time.

Shen Yuan chides at him that he should have made one of the other disciples do it then.

Luo Binghe just laughs, and stays on the ground, until finally Shen Yuan has to physically pull him up. Muttering about how he's being ridiculous, what's he crying for, why's he been moping so much, doesn't he know that handsome face should never look so bereft? Then he realizes what he's saying and shuts his mouth, but Luo Binghe just looks happy for the first time in years. Since the Abyss. How is it possible that SY, who actually had to slog through that awful place, can still smile more than Luo Binghe, who didn't?

They're standing so close. Holding on to one another. Almost as if... as if the scene's tone is... well...

Oh what the hell!

Shen Yuan closes the last little bit of distance between them, and kisses Luo Binghe.

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solandis-does-stuff · 2 months

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AU where there's no system (or a decidedly less restrictive one) and Shen Yuan transmigrates into an OC rogue cultivator before the start of the novel, and decides he's gonna steal the protagonist before Luo Binghe even gets to Cang Qiong.

The logic is sound -- he'll keep Luo Binghe from experiencing neglect and abuse at Shen Qingqiu's hands, raise him away from the pressure of the sects and the likelihood that anyone else might find out about his heritage and try to harm him over it, keep him fully away from the Immortal Alliance Conference, and then Luo Binghe's course will change trajectory because he'll have no reason to want revenge against the world and no access to Xin Mo. Shen Yuan will be able to spare Luo Binghe some suffering and possibly survive in a world less subject to the harrowing whims of a half-mad tyrannical overlord. Win-win!

However, the tricky bit is that he's not sure exactly how far ahead of the novel he is, and also Airplane didn't specify where Luo Binghe grew up. This means that Luo Binghe could be any age younger than twelve and in any number of places along or near to the Luo river.

Shen Yuan decides he's going to approach this by pretending he is looking for the long-lost son of his sister, traveling through the likeliest areas, asking after abandoned children who might fit the protagonist's description. It's a long shot, he knows, and he's mostly relying on the existence of Narrative Destiny. But eventually he is directed by several people towards a particular city, which is not as close to the river as he'd have expected Luo Binghe to grow up, but then again he only knows that was where baby Binghe was found, not where the washerwoman who took him in ultimately lived.

It becomes clear to him, though, that he's been sent to the wrong target. But also why he's been sent astray is apparent in nearly the same breath, because among the slave children living in this area is a little boy who could be his much younger clone.

Seriously, this kid looks just like him! Or, well, close enough. He looks a lot like Shen Yuan's actual nieces and nephews from his past life. It's uncanny.

Also, because of his search, the slave kids get wind of what he's looking for (his long-lost nephew) pretty quick. The boy with the obvious resemblance to him greets Shen Yuan's own assessment with wary cynicism, but he's just a little boy. So it's not difficult to notice the way he's also practically vibrating with hopefulness, half-hiding behind a protective older kid and looking at Shen Yuan with big dark eyes like he expects to be rescued or destroyed with whatever he has to say next.

Shen Yuan has a big problem now. He just knows that if he says something like "actually no this boy is too old to be my nephew" or whatever other excuse, no one will believe him, and also this poor kid is going to be permanently scarred by it. He's going to think Shen Yuan is lying just so that he can reject him. On top of that, he's not in a good situation here. None of these children are even remotely well cared-for.

Shen Yuan's rogue cultivator self isn't rich on the level of being like a wealthy sect leader or anything, but he's made some money since transmigrating by doing random cultivator jobs and quests along the way here. He uses it all to purchase two little slave boys (Do Not Separate), then takes another job and uses that coin to acquire a somewhat rundown manor which used to belong to the local gentry. The Qiu family (rings some bells but that's not exactly an uncommon name) kept it up for a while in case a branch family sprung up in need of a residence, but they've been in decline and the place is downright decrepit, so they had been looking to sell it instead. It's too big for a wandering bachelor like SY to ever need on his own account, but that's sort of the idea. He makes more money taking on cultivator work, at first taking his boys along with him for lack of any alternative. Nerve-wrackingly dangerous! Eventually he hires workers to start restoring the manor, particularly setting up a yard to be a school area, and then starts taking on any freelance jobs he can get in order to steadily buy out the contracts on all the other kids. He gets it nice enough to house and care for as many orphans as he can acquire.

Not because he's a big old softie though!

His story of looking for his nephew is a bust now, since he's apparently "found" the kid. So he's got to change tactics! If he can't find baby Binghe and the washerwoman, the next best approach is to create an opportunity for them to come to him. So once he's got his new household established, he starts offering free lessons to all the local kids. Not just the ones he's taken in, but also any who come by and want to learn some things. It's a tempting setup for anyone who wants their child to get education but can't afford a tutor, and Luo Binghe's mother had been entirely the sort of person who would have packed up and left her situation if there had been an opportunity for it.

On that note, SY also starts hiring single mothers to help look after his new gaggle of children and do the work he doesn't know how to do in these times, like keeping house, laundry, cooking, actually raising kids, etc.

His "little school" is not universally popular. A few groups try and ruin him, because the poverty in the region provides a basis of business for them. The ringleaders of the human traffickers in the area don't want their trade to dry up, even if it means selling all of their merchandise for this round, so when they find out that their underlings let Shen Yuan buy off all the kids they try and intimidate him into returning them (it doesn't go well for them). The Qiu family also isn't thrilled after it becomes clear what he's doing, and get him investigated by the local authorities (read: use their bribed officials and local goons to try and interfere.)

When that doesn't work either the sects get involved, because the Qiu go crying to Huan Hua Palace that Shen Yuan is sketchy and is trying to establish his own sect. So Shen Yuan talks his way around the matter, and frankly the Qiu are small fish even if they're the biggest ones in the local pond, so HHP doesn't care to pursue things much further. (Read: SY could mop the floor with the disciples they sent to investigate him, and it's not worth it to piss off someone this mysterious and powerful just to bully some impoverished children.)

Shen Yuan is appalled by all this bullshit though. Trust the world of PIDW to make it so hard just for a guy to teach some poor kids how to read and do math!

It makes him dig in his heels about it, because he is at heart a stubborn bastard. The fires that once fueled a thousand angry screeds on zhongdian literature site is now aimed at the local magistrate. One of the women he's hired on has some dirt on the Qiu family, which leads SY to dig up some more until he eventually has enough to turn the tables on them. Local officials won't investigate because they've all been bought, but that in and of itself is of some interest to their superiors closer to the palace, and so SY arranges an investigation of his own that goes way further than he thought? Turns out there are some ugly skeletons in the Qiu closets, and the imperial investigator comes down on them hard.

Well, he can't say they didn't have it coming? Though he does feel bad for the children in the family, especially the oldest son, who gets hauled off to jail along with his father. At least the girl is sent to live with relatives. Maybe he should have done more to shield the minors in the situation...?

His kids tell him not to worry about it, though, that apparently young master Qiu was known to run people down in the streets and beat his servants and do other cartoonishly awful things. SY's not sure how much of it is true and how much of it is his little flock of fluffy sheep trying to ease his conscience, though they do all seem to take a lot of vindictive delight in the whole affair. Especially Nephew, who clings to his sleeves and loudly declares that the investigator should have publicly flogged the discredited nobles so that everyone could go watch, and then begs him for sweets as if that wasn't a creepy thing to hear come out of an eight-year-old's mouth. SY just sighs and tells him he can have something good when he finishes his calligraphy practice.

Of course, it's not exactly easy running what is basically an orphanage-slash-school (and maybe a budding sect...?), especially when pretty much all of the kids have been traumatized and faced stuff like rampant dehumanization, food insecurity, abuse, and neglect. Hiring single mothers soon becomes not only a plan to try and lure in Luo Binghe's mom, but an absolute godsend of an idea because SY has no clue WHAT he would do on his own about the discipline issues or emotional breakdowns or acting out that some of the kids get up to once it registers that they're in a safe enough place to unpack their baggage.

Apart from Nephew, SY's favorite kid is the one who came with him, the oldest of the flock of former slave children. He's the big brother of the group, the one who tries his best to look after the others and to not make any trouble himself. But even poor Little Yue is still just a kid who has been through too much, and he also eventually starts having some meltdowns and struggles with processing everything that has happened to him as a vulnerable child in an unkind world.

SY really didn't mean to start a trauma center for mistreated children!

Though, that's still not necessarily a bad thing for Luo Binghe to one day come across, provided he ever actually shows up...

Eventually, Shen Yuan does figure out that he must be ahead even of Luo Binghe's birth, though he still doesn't put together that he's interfered in the scum villain's backstory. Probably something even more amusingly obscure, like the creation year of some random artifact Luo Binghe used in some wife plot or other, tips him off and he mentally throws his hands up in the air. He's got to wait DECADES? Maybe he ought to try and find Luo Binghe's biological parents and just follow them around at this point!

Not that he can, now, though, because he has to make sure no negative IQ villains (who will probably just be cannon fodder for a subplot one day) decide to send goons to literally burn down his orphanage. Also if he's gone for too long his kids get upset. Probably because no one else is as weak to their puppy dog eyes and pleas for treats and toys as he is.

At least it gives him time to shore up his position, and train Nephew and Little Yue more extensively in cultivation. Despite his initial assurances to HHP that he was but a humble orphan wrangler who was only incidentally a cultivator, Shen Yuan does also teach the other kids some basic cultivation exercises. There are a few reasons for that.

One is just the principle of the thing. No, these kids don't all have the potential to become great immortals or anything, but they can still learn some of it and it's good for their health if they do. The only trouble is if they try and push too hard or attempt things beyond their range, and that's a risk with everyone who cultivates. Or even just exercises!

Another reason is that it helps stave off the jealousy that some of the kids have towards those with more cultivation potential. Teaching a lot of the basics all around makes it into just another topic at school. Some kids might not be as good at it as others, but those kids might also be better at math, or memorization, or board games, and while cultivation can open more doors to people as adults, for the children this is generally enough to satisfy their sense of fairness. Or at least reduce outbursts and fights.

Finally, the impression that any of SY's kids might be a cultivator also makes wicked people more reluctant to try and abduct or interfere with them. Cultivators are revered and nearly mythological figures in the public consciousness. It isn't difficult to see why, if even a rogue cultivator NPC like SY* can mop the floor with most random muggers (*Shen Yuan is not a normal rogue cultivator). Not many people want to risk bringing SY's ire down on them, but of those who might chance it if he wasn't around to immediately react, even fewer want to risk that the kids themselves could kick their asses.

Not knowing that only two of the orphans probably could in fact mop the floor with them helps keep all the rest safer, and is more believable when all of them can conduct themselves enough like disciples to fool anyone who doesn't know what to really look for.

Developments that surprise Shen Yuan but wouldn't surprise anyone else who is paying attention:

People start leaving unwanted babies and younger children on his doorstep. Not all the time, but more than once has he had to frantically find wet nurses and worry that he's changed things enough that some fishermen might just randomly drop the protagonist outside his gate, and he wouldn't even know because Binghe would be a literal infant??

Nephew (SJ) and Little Yue (Yue Qi -- only Shen Yuan calls him "Little", especially when he gets taller than SY by the time he's sixteen) are prodigies who get really good at cultivation, really fast, and between that and Shen Yuan's OP skills they completely warp Shen Yuan's ideas for what normal cultivation potential looks like. This would probably cause more problems if he wasn't teaching all the kids how to cultivate anyway, but means his students actually do kinda run the usual range of skills for a small sect.

SJ and YQ swiftly reach the point where they need more advanced equipment than just SY's teaching can provide, if they're going to keep building their skills. Gaining access to certain tools, aids, and materials (like spiritual swords) is a real hurdle though, and usually is for rogue cultivators (one of the major disadvantages of no sect affiliation.) Shen Yuan is hesitant to use stuff from the plot, since it's For Binghe, but he eventually caves and starts going after some things that he doesn't think the future protagonist will miss much. He also ends up buying stuff from HHP, since they're willing to sell things like spiritual tools and weapons if the price is right, whereas most other sects like Cang Qiong reserve them for members only.

They get an invitation to the Immortal Alliance Conference. Not the one where the Abyss opens up, obviously, the one where (originally) Shen Jiu reunited with Yue Qi and killed Wu Yanzi. Shen Yuan debates on going but the boys really want to, and things have calmed down enough that no one's trying to burn down the school whenever he leaves these days, so eventually he figures it'll be interesting to see some of the Cang Qiong characters and should be safe enough if he keeps his disciples close.

They don't run into young Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu on the trip, but Wu Yanzi does show up and get killed, and SY only hears about it and assumes they just missed all that action. (WYZ just got caught by some senior cultivators who recognized him and killed him to avenge some disciples he murdered.) Nephew and Little Yue do meet young Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua, Mu Qingfang, and Su Xiyan though! Which gives Shen Yuan the opportunity to tell them all (mostly Su Xiyan) that if they're ever in trouble near his school, they can come to him for help. Hint hint.

This open invitation ends up being accepted broadly by a lot of traveling cultivators after the conference, who from then on treat Shen Yuan's school like a free motel whenever they're passing through. Plenty aren't even people SY met, but it seems his statement was taken as a general one to fellow righteous cultivators all around! Luckily, this has some advantages. Shen Yuan has no qualms running off anyone who tries to take unfair advantage of him or especially his kids or staff, and no shame in conscripting anyone who is decent enough to help teach his students, even if it's nothing to do with cultivating, and somehow word gets around and people start bringing school supplies, medicine, food, or other useful things along with them as gifts to help repay the hospitality. Young Liu Qingge comes by a lot on his way to and from various quests, or even seems to just turn up randomly sometimes (he comes to challenge YQ and SJ to fights), and SY's just like "I guess this is happening now" and teaches him to recognize the early signs of qi deviation and advises strongly against meditating in caves.

At one point a young Shang Qinghua turns up in one of the spare rooms, very obviously hiding an ice demon. Shen Yuan again is just like "I guess this is happening now" and shelters them until Mobei Jun has recovered, and sends a message to Cang Qiong that one of their An Ding caravans was attacked and their disciple is recovering under his roof but isn't well enough to travel yet. Much less stressful situation for Airplane (who is desperately trying to figure out what he did to manifest SJ's benevolent uncle from somewhere???)

Su Xiyan seems like the only person they met at the Immortal Alliance Conference who doesn't turn up at their door in a state of emergency at some point.

A few years later, there is a big scandal involving her and the demon emperor. Su Xiyan disappears, Huan Hua Palace accuses Tianlang Jun of plotting against the righteous sects, and Shen Yuan is even invited to the meeting where they try and rally everyone to go kill Binghe's dad. Naturally, he declines to participate in the witch hunt, but the major sects agree to it. By luck (or narrative fortune) Shen Yuan comes across Zhuzhi Lang on his trip back home, and mentions the ambush and his distaste for it (not knowing who ZZL is). ZZL warns Tianlang Jun and the confrontation goes very differently, especially since there's no Yue Qingyuan wielding Xuan Su.

It doesn't go well for the sects involved. Huan Hua Palace gets decimated. The Old Palace Master gets killed. Shen Yuan is like uhhhh that's... whoops? Didn't Luo Binghe need that in the future?? Fuck.

But the sect isn't wiped out completely, they just take a massive beating. Some of their younger disciples end up leaving and turning up on Shen Yuan's doorstep, for some reason. The manor house is becoming too small to account for all of these foundlings! They have to expand. Though the expansions would be a stretch to term a "palace" they end up occupying a much larger chunk of territory, and even investing in farmland and some storehouses to help support the sect. That's still not really a sect, of course. Even if a lot of the business that would have normally gone to Huan Hua Palace starts coming to them instead. Once HHP is back on its feet the stream will probably dry out. Probably?

Zhuzhi Lang starts hanging around. He's actually looking for Su Xiyan or their baby, dead or alive and per Tianlang Jun's instructions, but he uses Shen Yuan's school as base camp for his kind of hopeless efforts to find any traces of them, while also looking for ways to try and repay Shen Yuan. All the kids are just like "oh great, another weird man has fallen in love with Shizun -- someone go run interference" about it.

Some years later, an older woman and her young son turn up. Shen Yuan's off on a quest at the time, so SJ receives them. As is standard procedure he gives the woman a job and places the boy in classes, after giving him the aptitude tests. The kid is cute and precocious, so SJ uses him to distract YQ while he himself sneaks out to go join LQG on a monster hunt (and claim the valuable parts of the beast's remains for himself), and neither SY nor ZZL notice anything until SY's going over the paperwork for stuff he missed while he was gone. Since he procrastinated, it takes him like a week to find out that Luo Binghe is finally under his roof. He's going over the admission form right when SJ arrives with The New Adorable Child to try and distract SY enough that SY will let him go on a solo hunt -- as far as being distracted goes, it is way more effective than even SJ anticipated.

Then he has to figure out how to let ZZL know, so that ZZL can let Tianlang Jun know, so that Luo Binghe will have more family than just his mom and more resources than just a shabby little not-sect! But even once he figures it out and sets up the dramatic reveal, TLJ is just like "great! so can he just stay with you? he's probably fine there" which... irritates SY.

SJ fully conscripts Luo Binghe as a minion in his many cons. He never lost his street kid conman tactics, although he now uses them less as a ruthless survival tool or weapon and more to just get things to go his own way. LBH has the face and disposition of a little angel, which SJ no longer can pull off as a full grown adult, so he fills a gap. LBH also knows full well what's going, especially since a lot of SJ's tactics involve throwing LBH at SY like a smoke bomb.

Luo Binghe inevitably still develops a big fat crush on SY, so this is fine by him. Especially when he gets older, he starts bringing SY tea and making him breakfast and running his errands until even SJ is like "wait a minute, this little brat's stealing my job!" and by then it's too late. Luo Binghe is SY's personal assistant, the disciple at conman puppydog eyes has surpassed the master! While SJ was busy being like "I'm going to trick this idiot into doing my chores" LBH was going "I'm going to trick this idiot into giving me his job".

SY takes too long to officially name his school so everyone calls it the Shen Sect, much to his embarrassment.

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