#; i had a sister! i saved her! (flee)
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Untouchable - Azriel x Reader
Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand's Sister! Reader ✨
Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.
Warnings: angst
➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V
➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Part I
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Your heart was twisting in your chest, a sick feeling curling in the pit of your stomach, as you hurried down the dimly lit hallways of the River House. You held a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break loose and the bile that stung the back of your throat. You could do it, you could hold it in. At least until you got back to your room. And then you’d be free to cry and cry and cry as much as you wanted to.
You had spent years trying to bury your feelings for the shadowsinger. What had started out as a harmless crush on your older brother’s friend when you were just a girl had blossomed into true, real feelings since you had come of age. But despite your best efforts, Azriel still never seemed to notice you. Not like that anyways.
Him and Cassian had adored you the moment you had entered their life as just a babe and the sister of their best friend. You had been born during a time of peace, decades after the war. The three of them had been nearing two-hundred. They had watched you grow into the female you were today. Had been there through your toughest years after watching your mother brutally murdered in front of you at the age of thirteen, barely saved before your own life was taken.
It was a good thing Rhys had become High Lord before the time you reached eighteen or your father would’ve had you married off, no doubt for some political alliance. You had hoped your brother would’ve given you a role in his court once you were of age but after almost losing you, he had become increasingly protective.
So instead of being sent on missions, or used as an emissary, you spent most of your time volunteering in Velaris—helping to build the sanctuary into what it was today. You had eventually stopped arguing with your brother to loosen up his hold on you when he had broken down crying in front of you simply at the thought of you never returning if he was to send you out in the world.
And how could you complain when Velaris had been your cage? So you learned to play your role, for him, for your brother. The pretty little sister of the High Lord. Never known for anything but your beauty. The beauty that had males sending your father marriage propositions since the age of ten.
But there had only ever been one person you wished would see you that way. And he never had. You had to watch him pine after your own cousin for centuries. Never once looking your way. You feared he’d only ever see you as that little girl—the one who used to climb all over them at the cabin, the one who had the three males wrapped around her finger since she had been born.
Only ever just a girl in his eyes.
And you had made peace with that, as much as it hurt to be looked over by the one person you wanted the most. It still bothered you to watch his eyes track Mor all the time, to stare at her in a way he would never look at you. You had made peace with that…until tonight.
You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you hadn’t seen the shift in him when he started looking after the middle Archeron sister. You had once believed he only had eyes for Mor, and it had brought you some solace in knowing that might be the only reason he had never looked your way.
But then Elain showed up and those affections shifted from Mor to her. Suddenly he was always with her, spending hours in the gardens with Elain. Staring at her the way he would stare at Mor. Your heart had started crumbling all over again with the realization that he could move on from Mor, could fall for someone other than her—and it hadn’t been you.
You had left your bed chambers tonight to fetch a glass of water from the kitchens but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you would’ve walked in on. You had smelt them before you opened the doors. Azriel’s cedar and night-chilled mist and Elain’s sweet jasmine and honey.
You should’ve left then but something had compelled you to open the kitchen doors just a hair.
And there they were. Elain seated on the counter, Azriel between her legs. Her skirt has been pushed up to her thighs, his hands tangled in her hair, as they kissed like two starved animals.
You were lucky you had spent years learning how to keep a strong mask like your brother, for it allowed you to slip away without them ever noticing you.
You finally made it to your room, shutting the door and locking it behind you. You were grateful for the sound wards you had put up because the minute you stepped over that threshold you collapsed into a heap on the floor as heart-wrenching sobs erupted from your lips.
It felt like you had been stabbed in the heart with a million knives, like someone had gutted you and twisted your insides. It hurt so much to think that Azriel would never want you the way you wanted him. He didn’t want you. He didn’t crave your presence the way you did his. He didn’t want to touch you the way you wanted to touch him. He just didn’t want you.
And he never would.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
“Send me somewhere,” you said, pressing your palms onto your brother’s desk as you stared at him right in the eyes—the eyes you shared. “Anywhere, I don’t care. Just send me somewhere.”
Rhys frowned, his eyebrows pinching together. “What has gotten into you? Did something happen?”
You let out a sigh, collapsing in one of the armchairs. You couldn’t tell him the real reason you wanted to leave. It was embarrassing. “Nothing happened. I’m just…tired of being cooped up here. Please, Rhys. It doesn’t even have to be far—just please.”
“Where is this coming from, y/n? You haven’t asked this in years. I thought you were happy here.”
“I am happy here. But I want to see the world, Rhys. And we’re finally in a time of peace. So let me, please.”
Rhys’s eyes narrowed, taking in your appearance. The slightly swollen eyes, the dark circles, the haphazard way you had braided your hair this morning. “Did…did someone hurt you? Did someone do something to you?”
“What? No!” A lie of course. But what could you say? Azriel had hurt you but it wasn’t like it was his fault. It wasn’t like he owed you anything.
“You know you can always talk to me about anything. Right, dove?” The use of his nickname for you nearly caused the tears you were fighting back to escape.
“Of course, Rhys. But I promise you. No one did anything to me. Please. The war is finally over and I think I’ve spent enough of my life here. I want to see what the rest of the world has to offer.”
Rhys’s head fell in his hands. “I-I don’t think I can let you go, dove. I’m sorry but I can’t bear it…I can’t bear not having you here where I can protect you.”
“It’s not fair!” You shouted, standing up. “I’m not a child anymore—I’m nearly three hundred years old for Gods sake! I’m suffocating here, Rhysie. Please.”
“Rhys,” Feyre said softly, placing a tattooed hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is time you let y/n make her own choices. You promised me you’d always give me a choice—would always let me decide what to do with my life. Why can’t that apply to your sister?”
You shot her a grateful look, hoping she would make him see reason. Rhys stayed silent and you knew he had been struck by her words. “I can go to Mor, on the continent. Then you don’t have to worry about me being alone. I can help her try to form alliances there.”
Still he said nothing but judging by Feyre’s narrowed eyes, you could tell they were having an argument mentally. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, wishing that he would listen to his mate about this. If anyone could talk Rhys into something, it was her.
It felt like an eternity went by before your brother finally looked up at you. His eyes were full of sadness and guilt and you knew in that moment, you had won.
“Fine, fine. But you will go to Mor in Vallahan and stay with her the whole time. You will listen to her at all times and never go anywhere alone. And you will write me twice a week,” Rhys growled. “And I swear, y/n, if you even miss one letter, I will come get you myself. Those are my rules—take it or leave it.”
A genuine smile bloomed on your face as you jumped to your feet and ran around the desk to embrace your brother in your arms. “Thank you, Rhys! Thank you! I promise I’ll do as you say. I promise.”
He held you tightly as if he never wanted to let go and you peered at Feyre from over his shoulders to mouth her a small ‘thank you’.
This was it. You’d finally be able to leave this city after three hundred years. Finally see the world! And most importantly: be far, far away from the shadowsinger that had won your heart but fallen for another.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Three months went by in the blink of an eye. You had spent the entire time traveling with Mor from Vallahan to Montesere, where you two had just settled down when Rhys had contacted you both, asking for your return home. Apparently he had big news to share but he wanted to do it in person. So now you were packing up your things, getting ready to return back to Velaris for the first time since you had left.
It had been annoying how much you thought of Azriel still. But it was getting easier to ignore the longer you were away. You hoped those feelings would eventually disappear entirely—but every time you thought of moving on, something in your chest would ache and ache.
That didn’t mean you hadn’t taken lovers in your time here. It had always been hard to find males to mess around with in Velaris considering they all knew who your brother was. The last thing they wanted was for Rhys to come looking for them after sleeping with you. So you’d only taken a few lovers here and there throughout the years.
But on the continent, no one knew who you were. Had no idea that you were the younger sister of one of Prythian’s High Lords. And Mor had been sure to teach you all the ways to have someone wrapped around your finger. You had never felt so confident in yourself as you did now. Finally becoming the female you wanted to be without your brother or the two other bats watching you over your shoulder. It was exhilarating.
But the thought of returning home had dampened some of your newfound joy. You were worried about slipping into your old role—being that sweet, pretty, little accessory they all expected you to be.
You wouldn’t allow that. You couldn’t. Not after having a taste of what it could be like if you became the female you always dreamed you’d be. Someone who knew she was desired for more than just her looks. Someone interesting. Someone smart and witty. Someone brave. You tried to ignore the part of you that hoped Azriel might see those things in you now.
“Are you ready to go, y/n?” Mor asked, leaning against the doorframe of your room.
You took one last look at yourself in the floor length mirror. You were wearing a dress that was typical of what they wore here in Montesere. If you could even call it a dress. It was white, the bodice dipping into a v-shape and clinging to your body with gold embellishments and blue gems decorating it. It had long sleeves that connected to a hood, stitched in glimmering gold. It cut off right under your breasts, exposing your toned stomach until just slightly passed your belly button.
The skirt was held up by two thin gold straps that criss-crossed over the sides of your hips to connect it to the top part of the dress. The skirt itself traveled to the floor and had two long slits on either side to show off your legs. The white color complimented your tanned skin and the kohl you had lined your eyes with made the violet color of your eyes glimmer even brighter.
You had left your hair down in soft curls, only pinning back two strands on either side of your face with some gold pins. More than happy with the way you looked, you turned back to Mor with a grin.
“I’m ready to go home.”
#acotar#azriel#fanfic#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fic#angst#rhysand sister#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel x female!reader#acotar fanfiction#shadowsinger x reader#acosf#post war
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can i request the reader being gojo's younger (or little, if that's what you prefer) sister during their highschool days? i think the dynamic between her and geto would be really cute and sweet! meanwhile, shoko would be the tired aunt that has to watch every stupid thing that stsg and the reader does 😭
๋࣭⭑ A CHAOTIC FOURSOME ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
featuring. gojo satoru, shoko ieiri, geto suguru + gojo's little sister
warning. time sequence is during their highschool days (2006) and i'd say the reader would be younger than gojo by a year, so she's as old as nanami and haibara :D
note. i'm actually like so ecstatic to write this because i have so many assumptions of gojo with a younger sister, thank you nonnie for requesting this, ily <;33
the mother x the dumb x the dumber x the dumbest
no doubt that shoko is the mother of the group, without her the whole group is just well, plainly chaotic. satoru will come up for stupid plans, hence the dumbest. you will undoubtedly follow him, hence the dumber. and geto will think it's stupid, but will follow him, hence the dumb.
"okay, so what if we just — find a way to summon a curse, and sell our soul to it for something in return?" satoru asks with a cheeky grin.
"sounds cool, i'm in!" you replied with a large toothy grin.
"that must be the stupidest idea i have ever heard in my life," geto sighs out, "but let's do it."
"i don't have a soul," shoko mutters out of the blue, sighing out, "and you guys are incredibly stupid, you know that?" at the end of the day, the plan didn't even commence nor did you all talked about it again.
you are the closest with geto, he treats you like a little sister as well — except he's a little less of an asshole than your actual brother.
satoru is an asshole. he's a pain in the ass, no doubt. all three— you, geto, and shoko— can and will admit the fact that out of you four, satoru is the brattiest. however though, being related to him by blood, you were his target most of the time.
"ouch! satoru, did you really just shoot me with a nerf gun? that fucking hurts you ass!" you hiss, rubbing your nape— where satoru just shot with a nerf gun.
"take that, peasant." satoru sings out, attempting to shoot two more bullets at you, one hitting your arm and the other barely missing you.
you ran to shoko who immediately flee, leaving you open to satoru, traitor. before you eventually seek shelter behind geto who was sitting down on a bench, sipping a drink; and oh boy, the bullet managed to hit his face.
"oh shit." satoru mumbled, "it was an accident, suguru."
"damn." you look at geto, before laughing lightly.
geto smiled at your brother before standing up, and the cat-and-mouse chase between them both begin. geto made sure you were alright after, and satoru was— yeah, he survived, just a little bruised here and there.
being siblings is funny, satoru's closet is your closet too.
"y/n, is that my shirt?" satoru asks, pointing at the white shirt you were wearing and you hummed softly, sipping on a carton of milk.
satoru began lecturing you and how you shouldn't snoop in his closet, "lord, save me." you muttered out, walking in between shoko and geto while your brother constantly turned towards you to lecture you about asking for permission.
"are you even listening to me, brat?"
shoko grunted, "make him shut up, please."
"it's not her fault that she looks better in your shirt, satoru," geto laughed lightly, and that somehow managed to shut your brother up for the rest of the day— until he opens the door to your room late at night with a pout on his face.
"my shirt does not look better on you, for your information."
"oh my god, satoru you're so childish!"
as much as satoru teases you, when it comes to protecting you— he's number one, and he will always worry about you. he will not hesitate to tell someone off if they're bothering you.
"so, who is it?" satoru asks, his eyes not leaving the television screen.
you sat next to him and hummed in confusion. earlier you had gotten home with a small bruise right next to your lip, and as hard as you tried to cover it with make up — satoru still noticed the bluish purple outline of the bruise.
"what do you mean?"
"who gave you the bruise?" he asks again, calmly. way too calm for your liking, to be honest.
"i fell."
satoru finally turned to look at you, "doesn't look like you fell, just tell me what happened, it's not like 'm gonna do anything—maybe." he mumbled out the last part under his breath.
you sighed out, knowing the male won't drop the topic unless you tell him about it, "you know that one guy who wouldn't stop bothering me just because i beat him up in middle school for ruining my comic book?"
"the one i already try to tell off last time?" you nodded at him, "damn it, i should've gotten rid of him that time. want me to hollow purple him or do you prefer a more friendly approach?"
you chuckled, "i can fix this myself."
"nu-uh," he rolled his eyes, "hollow purple it is."
"'toru!"
"sheesh, fine friendly approach it is."
shoko and geto tries their best to look after you and satoru, but they don't get paid for this and always ends up giving up halfway and just joins in the "fun".
"oh, come on satoru, this is like the worst plan ever!" you tell him, crossing your arms.
"what? why? is it because i made it?" he argues, crossing his arms as well.
"no — okay, yes, maybe. but still it's a shitty plan, right?" you look over to geto and shoko who only nodded in forced affirmation, in all honesty, they didn't know what was happening between you and your brother or whatever you both were talking about.
"suguru, even you?" satoru whines out, "traitor."
"see? what about we go for my plan instead?" you offered, and satoru immediately declines, arguing with you.
it took you both two hours to finally settle on doing nothing because you got tired, and satoru got too angry that geto had to drag him away.
when satoru was supposedly "killed" by the sorcerer killer, toji. you were fucking destroyed. until he actually shows up, looking more alive than ever.
"oh, you're alive?" you asked slowly, although in disbelief.
satoru chuckled, opening his arms for you to fall into, "don't say it like that, might think that my own sister doesn't love me," not like you spent the whole time crying over him.
"fucking ass. i hate you so much." you hugged him.
"i love you too."
satoru spoils you. and when he does, he makes sure geto and shoko gets little of it too (because you told him to do it so they would feel loved).
"i was thinking — satoru treating us three to shabu?" geto immediately agrees with no hesitation, no thoughts, he just agreed to what you said.
satoru looks at you and smiled sweetly. a fake one. but it was fun watching him like this so you didn't care, "shoko?"
"free food? hell yeah." shoko nods her head with a smirk.
satoru ended up feeding all three of you like a mama feeding her child, and you ended up getting a scolding from him and a threat that goes a little like: "that's the last time i'm spending my money on you, loser."
but you know he didn't mean that. just watch how he'll probably get you something the very next day.
© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff#jjk fluff#gojo satoru#gojo fluff#gojo as your brother#geto suguru#suguru geto#shoko ieiri#shoko#geto#gojo#satoru#suguru#jjk ieiri#jjk geto
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My son my boy
loak x mom reader + sully family
Lo'ak sully had always felt like he was the black sheep of his family, or maybe his father less favorite child as she could never do anything the way his father and mother wanted. He was always messing up and will never be like his golden brother neteyam or his wonderful sisters. There were a little few that saw him for himself and one of them is you his mom, you knew your sons struggles and the times he tries to be the perfect son for his father and mom. He had always tried to be the perfect child for the clan and everyone else but it always seem to fail. As he had never did it the way they had wanted he was not up to their standards. This patterns of being called the less perfect child and freak will follow him into his teen years.
Y/n " Jake can we talk for moment"
Jake " yes my love I always will give up time for you"
y/n " thank you I need to talk with you about something important"
Jake " what is that about"
y/n " lo'ak we most talk about him" Jake soon looked and you and sighed heavily, this had gotten you attention.
y/n " look Jake I wish you will just hear hime out for a bit and understand him, verse looking down on him and down playing his actions"
Jake " his actions always lead to trouble or failure"
y/n " Jake he is your son"
Jake " well I'm being honest y/n that boy is nothing but trouble at times and dangerous, always dragging his siblings into dangers or trouble he nearly got neteyam killed twice and his sister kidnapped and hurt"
y/n " he means well you have to see that Jake"
Jake " well we are lucky enough his actions didn't get us and our clan kicked out after he put tsireya, aonung, and rotox lives in endanger for saying that outcast"
y/n " that so called outcast saved our sons life and is his spirt brother, and dear friend as well"
Jake " well if I dear son knew well he would listen to what tonowari and all these other oloeythans told him and saved away, from payakan because of him we nearly lost neteyam and many other lives as well ... because of him we all had to flee our homes and now the reef navi have lost their creatures and some of their homes"
y/n " Jake that our son you are speaking about like that, don't you hear yourself"
Jake " you don't understand we have to stop letting him get away with everything he does he bring shame to the family"
y/n "he bring shame to you but never to me"
Jake " I have no time to fight with you on this I have to meet up with neytiri, because we have more important stuff to do verse causing problems" Jake soon walked away from you and you were standing there mad, it was good that all the other kids were away at the moment.
later that day
tuk " mama mama"
y/n "tuk baby what the matter"
tuk " there trouble on the beach come on" tuk soon dragged you towards the beach where you saw lo'ak standing alone as everyone was looking at him.
y/n " lo'ak what happened" you ran to lo'ak aid and you were now looking at him.
lo'ak " hey mama"
ronal " that boy was caught with payakan once again out on the water"
y/n " yes I knew that he told me he was going to see payakan"
ronal " you knew of this behavior and actions and encourage it"
y/n " yes payakan is friendly and harmless his actions in the past shouldn't reflect him now"
tonowari " your son was seen with payakan and some other tulkun is seems, like he was trying to get payakan accepted again"
y/n " lo'ak"
lo'ak " well mama you said some people should be given a second chance, and I was hoping that will apply for payakan he shouldn't be hated forever"
y/n " oh lo'ak"
navi women " so it the mother fault not raising her son right"
y/n " my son mean no harm just hear him out and let him explain"
tonowari " that boy has done enough damage getting my daughter kidnapped by the demons, along with my sons hunted down as well nearly killed"
y/n " they all went to save payakan lo'ak was not going to let payakan be hunted down and saved him ... in the end payakan saved all the kdis lives"
ronal " that boy cares about no one she but himself he nearly got his brother killed twice I have been told, and he could of gotten more killed as well"
y/n " he a child he mean good"
jaek " enough"
lo'ak " if you all will listen to me for chance you will see payakan is good and fought for a good reason he, didnt mean to get anyone killed or hurt all those years ago"
Jake " I said enough" Jake was soon looking at you and lo'ak and he was mad.
Jake " enough both of you bringing shame upon me and neytiri, disrespecting everyone and their wishes"
y/n " Jake "
Jake " I said enough"
lo'ak " dad please you have to understand I was trying to help be like you a god warrior and leader"
neytiri " you are far from that boy I pray to eywa I don't have the mood to rip out the eyes of my youngest son"
y/n " you will not do that neytiri"
navi male " now I see the issue the boy mother allows him to be like this, because she as well lack discipline"
navi women 2 " the boy is like his mother there no lying their"
y/n " Jake and neytiri are you going to let them speak to our son like that, lo'ak if you son as well"
neytiri " he is your son I have my children neteyam, kiri, and tuk your son keeps on causing trouble nearly got mines killed all because he selfish"
lo'ak " mom I'm sorry I ..."
neytiri " no enough Jake will speak with you" neytiri soon turned around and walked away she was upset and mad.
Jake " I'm sorry everyone for my son behavior I will speak with him, and make sure this doesn't happen again I swear it"
tonowari " we will hold you onto those words Jake sully lets hope your son can see sense soon" soon everyone else had slowly started to leave Jake didn't say anything else he walked away shaking his head.
lo'ak " mama I"m sorry now I brought you into my mess"
y/n " it okay my son I'm proud of you my warrior" lo'ak soon smiled towards you the rest of the kids wish to come near, but were ushered away by kiri and ronal.
The next day
Jake " lo'ak will be extra task given to him by myself and the other olo'eythan to make up for his actions of yesterday and past months"
y/n " Jake that unfair he already has enough on his shoulder"
lo'ak " mama it okay dad spoke to me about it yesterday and I want to do it"
y/n "lo'ak"
neteyam " I will go with you baby bro and we can ask others to help"
Jake " no it will be out on the water and he will be doing it on his own"
y/n " Jake"
lo'ak " it will be okay mama I will be fine"
Jake " come on boy you will be leaving now and come one once it done"
lo'ak " yes sir" you ahd followed Jake and lo'ak outside towards where the others leaders are waiting, they were speaking with Jake and soon looked at lo'ak.
olo'eythan " your father spoke for you on us trusting you with this task and we hope you do all, and just maybe this will make up for what happened"
lo'ak " yes sir I will not let anyone down"
tonowari " I hope not"
Jake " lets get on with it"
y/n " lo'ak"
lo'ak " I will be okay mama no need to worry I will be home, I promise you everything will be okay and I will come home and make everyone proud"
y/n " okay just know you make me proud and if you see payakan tell me I say hello"
lo'ak " yes mama" you soon hugged lo'ak tightly fearing the worst but you soon let him go. Soon the other children had come to say goodbye to lo'ak along with neytiri and ronal.
neteyam " we will be wait to see you later baby brother
lo'ak " I know everything will be fine" soon lo'ak was gone on his IIu as you saw him getting smaller and smaller as, he was getting away from home.
Jake " he will be fine nothing bad will happen this plan will go well" before you could say anything else against your husband Jake was gone. You stood there watching hoping and praying that lo'ak will be okay and come home safe.
Later that day
y/n " the sun starting to set and he not home yet"
aonung " dont worry y/n lo'ak will be home soon it take all day"
y/n " thank you aonung"
neteyam "yes mom he will be home soon there no need to worry"
Jake " you are worrying again"
y/n " yes I'm why are you not he out there all alone"
Jake " he is safe he needs to do this alone he doesn't need his mom treating him like a baby, he safe out there the rda will not find him"
y/n " jake please can we send someone"
Jake " no yet he will be fine when it dark we will send someone to go find him, that finally no more fighting me on this" Jake soon stormed off the children had kept you busy, until night fall had come. You were alone in the house and were wondering where lo'ak was at right now. You soon walked towards the water hoping to see lo'ak, no one else was around gone in the village.
y/n " lo'ak ... lo'ak ... lo'ak" you soon heard a loud splash as it got your attention, you soon walked into the water hear the sound of IIu call but sound bad.
y/n " lo'ak ... lo'ak" you soon saw payakan but what made you panic the most was that there was someone laying on payakan back, it was lo'ak.
y/n " lo'ak" you scream you son name as your swam towards him soon getting towards his body, and it was bad it seem he was in a bad fight but you soon saw the RDA hook on his IIU.
y/n " no please no lo'ak"
lo'ak" m... m ... mama"
y/n " I'm here lo'ak I'm here"
lo'ak " m.. mama"
y/n " help someone help"
???? " mom what the matter ... lo'ak" you soon looked and saw neteyam with rotxo, aonung, and spider and all four boys looked horrified to see lo'ak in this type of state.
y/n " help me take hime to norm and max now and go tell the others"
the boys" ...."
y/n " now" you soon yelled and the boys soon went into action aonung and rotxo raced off while neteyam and spider helped you. You were carrying lo'ak body with neteyam helped toward norm and max while spider ran ahead.
norm " what happened"
y/n " he was caught be the RDA and hurt that what happened now we have to safe him"
max " take him into the tent we can save him" you and neteyam soon placed lo'ak on a mat on the bed, as norm and Max race to get everything they need at the moment.
neteyam " mama"
y/n " stay outside and keep watch okay" neteyam said nothing as him and spider looked scared about everything that was happening lo'ak looked bad he was more hurt then neteyam.
lo'ak " mama... mama"
y/n " hush kiddo it okay I'm her with uncle norm and max we are going to make you feel better" you had placed your hands on lo'ak comforting him while norm and max put IV in him along with other stuff. Neteyam had yelled out in pain as everything hurt so badly, it seems like he had broken bones, cuts and bruised on his body along with some burns as well.
lo'ak " mama is hurts"
y/n " I know baby I know just a few more and then we can see what the matter"
norm " lo'ak kid you are going to feel some pain for a bit"
lo'ak " yes sir" Max had sticked lo'ak with some more thing making the boy scream again.
Lo'ak " they found me mama ... I was with payakan and some other tulkun we tried to escape ... then fight but it didn't work mama I don't know if the others are okay to much happened"
y/n " hush now you need to save all the energy you have"
lo'ak " mama I'm sorry I let everyone down I didn't do well I...."
y/n " don't speak like that I'm prpud of you my son you did well" you had kissed lo'ak forehead, but he still in pain. It hurt you to see your kids in pain but now it hurt more as there was nothing you can do.
???? " lo'ak lo'ak"
neteyam " dad over here he in there with mama" soon Jake came into the room with neytiri behind them, both of them look horrified to see Jake. They were soon followed by the other sully kids and tonowari kids as well.
kiri " lo'ak"
Jake " kids go wait outside"
neteyam " but dad"
y/n " everyone stop please we need clam right"
mo'at " what has happen is my grandson ... look"
y/n " mo'at we are going to need your help" mo'at soon entered the tent and started helping where she could. You soon saw Jake and neytiri still by the entrance looking, you soon went towards them.
Jake " wait can we do to help"
y/n " stay outside and out of the way" you soon closed the tent door on them and went back to your son, who was in need of help right now. Soon enough all four adults had gotten lo'ak stable and placed him on a new bed to sleep on for the night.
mo'at " you should stay with him tonight he will need a parent with him, and attention If anything bad happens"
y/n " thank you"
norm " it will take some time for him to deal but he has broken bones, burns on his legs and arms, with some cuts and bruises as well he had lost blood as well"
y/n " oh lo'ak"
max " he lucky to be alive but we will need to keep an close eye on him"
y/n " thank you all for helping"
max " the others are still waiting outside you can go speak with them, I will watch over the boy until you all come back" you had nodded your head saying nothing else as you soon left the tent with mo'at and norm. That when you saw everyone else waiting outside it seems like they been waiting for a while.
neteyam " mama" neteyam soon saw you and came running with his siblings and his cousins along with their friends.
y/n " hello kids"
kiri " mama how is lo'ak"
y/n " he if stable at the moment and now resting"
mo'at " thanks to the efforts of norm, max, and your mama we were able to get him stable"
tuk " can we see him mama"
spider " yes can we see him please aunt y/n"
norm " kids clam down lo'ak is resting right now and not taking any visitors"
tuk " aww"
y/n " you know lets make a deal tomorrow you all can go see him, if he wake by then"
tsireya " yes ma'am"
y/n " where is everyone else"
aonung " they are holding a meeting"
rotxo " we don't know about what we couldn't hear and we wanted to see how things were going for lo'ak"
y/n " thank you all for staying"
neteyam " can we spend the night here mama we can make a camp here"
kids " yes please for lo'ak"
mo'at " children y/n is overwhelmed with lo'ak right now and we should give them space, you all should be heading home"
the kids " yes ma'am"
y/n " go on home now I will see you'll tomorrow my loves and kids" the children had nodded their heads and soon left, but not before giving a goodbye to you and lo'ak. Your children had hugged you and it was easy to tell none of them are taking this whole situation well.
mo'at " I will let you deal with Jake and my daughter first and then I will deal with them later"
norm " I have some words for them as well... there are some blanks and bed for you y/n that you can use ... Max will be staying in human hut that a fee feet away along with me as well"
y/n " thank you all" soon norm and mo'at had left to go attend to the children and make sure they got home, you were waiting outside when you heard footsteps coming toward you.It was Jake and neytiri along with tonowari and oloeythans.
Jake " how is he can we see him is he talking"
y/n " he is stable for now and resting"
neytiri " then we will go see our son"
y/n " no is resting
Jake " then we will be quite we wish to see him and care for him"
y/n " I said he resting leave him be for now"
neytiri " one of us can stay with you for the night and be there for our son"
y/n " the children at home need you right now I will stay here with lo'ak and you deal with our kids at home"
tonowari " y/n we are greatly sorry for ...."
y/n " your kdis need you at home as well tonowari I will see you all tomorrow" you soon left saying nothing else as you soon looked at lo'ak as he was resting tears falling down your face, there were some words that lo'ak shared with you that you will deal with in the morning. You soon started humming the song that lo'ak and his siblings love, it seem to make matter better. You are praying deep down that lo'ak will get better as he resting in bed healing. There was so much that happened last night that will affect everyone later on, that might break relationships forever and cause damage that can't be healed so easily.
#atwow#avatar 2#avatar#avatar x reader#avatar x y/n#sully family x reader#avatar the way of water#jake x reader#neytiri x reader#jake x reader x neytiri#jake sully x y/n#jake sully x reader#jake sully x you#jake sully x neytiri#neytiri
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Avatar Masterlist
JC Avatar Universe fanfiction - constantly updating (*- longer fics)
I write for Neteyam, Tsu'tey, Ao'nung, open to writing for Lo'ak, Jake
Neteyam:
*All For You - Neteyam x Ta’unui ! reader / enemies to lovers! - pt. 1 | pt. 2
when Quaritch attacks the Ta’unui water clan, Y/N flees to the Metkayina clan for safety. She develops feelings for Neteyam but the tensions grow when Y/N finds out that Neteyam is the son of Jake Sully - the man she hates.
*Be Mine - Neteyam x Metkayina ! reader / fake dating!
the one, where neteyam pretends to court the reader to avoid all of the nagging from his parents and a group of admirers. of course, it doesn’t take long for her to fall for him too
Human Stuff - Neteyam x Human ! reader (afab) / period cramps
the one, where a confused na’vi teenager tries to comfort his human friend while she’s on her period
Your lips, my lips, apocalypse - Neteyam x Omatikaya ! reader
when y/n hangs out with the women at the lab and decides to put on lipstick to feel pretty, her friends start to make fun of her. but not neteyam, he thinks she looks cute
*And I cried when you first said, "Oel ngati kameie" - Neteyam x Metkayina ! reader / forbidden love!
despite her father’s wariness of the sully’s and their ‘demon-blood,’ y/n can’t help but feel drawn to neteyam. as the two of them bond over their similar experiences of parental pressure, he finds himself falling in love with her
*Second Chances - Neteyam x Omatikaya ! reader / love triangle!
y/n and lo'ak were destined to be together, or so she thought... after moving to awa'atlu with the sully's, lo'ak starts to fall for a certain metkayina girl, leaving y/n completely heartbroken. it is unexpected when neteyam, who has been secretly harboring feelings for her, decides to tend to her wounds. can y/n reciprocate his love?
Nerves Talking - Neteyam x Crybaby ! reader / misscommunication
after spending months teaching his little sister’s friend how to hunt, neteyam is surprised by the lack of her progress. later on, he discovers then that she is just too nervous to be around him because of her not-so-small crush
Tunutu (Crush) - Neteyam x Omatikaya ! reader / childhood friends to lovers
although neteyam had never reciprocated her feelings, choosing him was always an easy decision for y/n, one of those she could make in a heartbeat. so when another man tries to win her affections, neteyam suddenly becomes aware of what he has been missing out on
*Chosen by Eywa - Neteyam x Omatikaya ! reader / series (complete)
eywa makes no mistakes... in the midst of his preparation to become the future olo'eyktan, neteyam is told to be with a chosen mate. guided by the signs of eywa, tsahik picks y/n, a woman orphaned by the war, whose heart already belongs to another. y/n's whole world begins to crumble, as she is forced into the loveless bond. will neteyam and y/n be able to overcome the odds and find their true happiness?
Tsu'tey:
Child of Our Own - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya ! reader
seeing his friends already awaiting their firstborns, tsu'tey begins to yearn for a baby of his own, but he is too shy to tell you about it
Unrequited Love - Tsu’tey x Omatikaya ! reader / smut
you had been in love with tsu'tey for as long as you could remember. so when you see his heart break again at the loss of another mate, you offer him comfort, expecting nothing in return
Unrequited - Tsu’tey x Omatikaya ! reader / series (complete)
based on Unrequited Love: y/n had been in love with tsu'tey since they were kids, watching him get his heart broken over and over, until he became hardened. on one particular night, she offers him intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. they grapple with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as y/n and tsu'tey navigate the depths of their feelings for each other
Captain Save a Hoe - Tsu'tey x Avatar ! reader
grumpy tsu’tey having to take care of a clumsy avatar!reader, and eventually warming up to her
Let Me Hear My Child - Tsu'tey x Pregnant ! reader / headcanons
tsu'tey's reaction to finding out his mate is pregnant
You'll be a great dad - Tsu'tey x Pregnant ! reader / Tsu'tey x Jake
tsu'tey is overwhelmed with anxiety and fear upon hearing the news of his mate's pregnancy and becoming a father, but like a good friend, jake is there to calm him down
Can't wait to meet you - Tsu'tey x Pregnant ! reader
pregnant!reader having to reassure tsu'tey that he will be a great father, despite his fears
Just Married - Tsu'tey x Female ! mate
when you stepped into the public eye for the first time after your mating, tsu'tey couldn't contain the overflowing affection he held for you. but because you felt insecure about the way you were being perceived by the clan, tsu'tey decided to prove you otherwise
Ao'nung:
Heaven in Hiding - Ao'nung x Metkayina ! reader / secret dating!
ao'nung and you have been hiding your relationship for some time now but there comes a moment when you want more than that
Thinking out loud about avatar (my opinions/analyses/theories):
sully kids watching jake's old diary logs
neteyam taking the move to awa'atlu the best out of the sully's
jake cringing at "my husband was toruk makto" bc of his own insecurities
jake and quaritch making up
-- let me know, if you want to be added to my taglist ♡
#avatar masterlist#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x reader#tsu’tey x reader#tsu'tey x y/n#neteyam fanfiction#tsu'tey fanfiction#avatar twotw#jake sully fanfiction#lo'ak x y/n#ao'nung x y/n#neteyam sully#neteyam fic#masterlist#avatar headcanons#avatar fanfiction#avatar fic recs#avatar oneshot#tsutey fanficiton#avatar au#♡♡♡#ao'nung x reader#ao'nung x you#ao'nung fanfiction
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Danny had never liked the guy.
Still, he never thought he would stoop so low to do something like this to his sister. Danny didn't have a lot of options. This world wasn't new to them anymore, they had been here since he turned twelve two years ago and while the superheros were new, people in general were not.
Jazzs boyfriend, Crapface Mcgee was going to get the stuffing beaten out of him once Danny got ahold of him. He pretended to be Jazzs dream guy and convinced her to come help out his family farm in the middle of nowhere because it was struggling.
Only once she got there his entire personality changed like someone flipped a switch. He and his family were horrible to her and she was forced to flee in the middle of the night into a pitch black forest with nothing but the phone her brother had modified to be able to work anywhere regardless of what plane of reality it was on. They likely only let her keep it thinking she wouldn't get any reception out there.
Oh how wrong they were.
Unfortunately for the siblings Danny was still hurting from a fight with some eldrich horror a few days ago and couldn't fly that far away and certainly wouldn't be able to carry her back.
Upon seeing Batmans plane parked somewhere in the dark of Gothams streets he got an idea and told jazz not to freak out and not to hang up. Hed be there soon.
.
.
.
"What are you doing?" Batmans face appeared via some kind of hologram projector while he was already high in the air and while he wanted to fanboy over the high tech he was too worried about his sister. "Look, I'm sorry. I am. But I needed a way to save my sister. It shouldn't take too long and I should be back before tomorrow night."
Batman seemed to process this information, but Danny didn't give him a chance to resond, "Tell me where you want me to park it and I'll be there waiting for whatever punishment you want to deal out." He paused, "Within reason, of course."
Suprisingly, Batman agreed.
And Danny upheld his end of the bargain with his big sister waiting by his side
#danny phantom#fanfiction prompts#danny fenton#dp x dc#prompts#batman#jazz fenton#danny steals the batwing#and doesnt even try to get away with it#batman is impressed#damian likes his code of honor#batfam: new siblings?#danny and jazz: wait what??#danny: i said Within Reason#batfam: we are not a punishment >:(#jason: i disagre-ow!#jason and danny are going to get along like a house on fire
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Everything Goes Wrong
Summary: Dean is there to comfort his little sister after she suffers a fatal injury while hunting.
Pairings: Dean x Sister!Reader; Sam x Sister!Reader
Warnings: Angst; hurt/comfort; whump; death
Word Count: 1.3k
Author’s Note: Requested from anonymous many moons ago.
Dean. He was running toward you, screaming your name. You couldn’t comprehend his urgency; the leviathan were dead, the fight was over.
It all happened so quickly. You walked into a battle already underway. A small group of hunters also trailing the levis were first to arrive at the hideout, complicating an already dicey hunt. At the sight of their chaotic fighting, it became immediately clear that none of them had the tact or skill of a Winchester. Your brothers took action, causing two of the chompers to flee. Dean tossed one of the rookie hunters a sack of crude borax bombs and instructed them to capture the runaways. Sam crossed the warehouse, distracting one of the remaining leviathan. Dean took advantage of his brother’s diversion, driving the righteous, blood soaked bone he brandished deep into her skull.
On the other side of the abandoned stockroom, you were taking a beating from the last leviathan. He had been momentarily stunned by the bottle of borax you smashed over him, but his resiliency was remarkable. Almost immediately regaining his composure, he flung you into a pile of scrap metal. You scrambled to your feet, unsheathing your knife in the process. He made quick work of disarming you before effortlessly pinning you against a steel support beam. You winced, preparing for the worst, when suddenly, he retreated. Your eyes opened to find Sam impaling him with the bone several yards away.
High off the action, your entire body pulsed with energy. Or was it throbbing? Normally, the adrenaline of a hunt didn’t make you this… this… what was this feeling? You heard Dean shout your name again. Why did he sound so strange? A warmth spread across your stomach, and you looked down to find a mess of red. Blood? Your blood. Soaking your clothes and pooling at your feet. Bewilderment washed over you as your fingers wrapped around the handle of your blade.
Just as Dean reached your side, your legs buckled. He braced your fall and carefully lowered you to the ground.
"Sammy!" Your eldest brother’s voice was gruff and full of urgency.
Consumed with killing the leviathan, Sam had been unaware of the commotion behind him. When he turned to see you bleeding in Dean’s arms, Sam shot up and sprinted toward you. He landed hard on his knees in front of Dean.
"Just the knife?" Sam’s eyes darted rapidly up and down your trembling form, trying to assess the damage.
Not wanting to speak the words, Dean nodded, his expression telling Sam the severity of your injuries.
“The car’s too far.” Dean thought aloud.
Sam wrestled with his next move. He didn’t want to leave you. He knew your chances of surviving were slim. He heard it in Dean’s tone. He saw it on your bloodstained clothes. Still, if there was even the slightest chance of saving you, he had to try.
“I’ll see if I can catch up with the other hunters.”
Both men knew it wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best Sam had to offer. Dean nodded reluctantly.
As your brothers’ muffled voices became more clear, so did your reality. The once dull pressure was now a searing pain. Your body screamed and your face contorted.
"Y/N, look at me.” Your eyes, wide with fear and confusion, found Sam’s. "You're gonna be okay. I’m going to get help.”
Sam leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back, Y/N/N. I promise.”
Through a large, broken window, Dean watched Sam tear across the field and into the nearby woods. When he glanced back at you in his arms, your eyes were closed.
"Y/N, you gotta stay awake." Dean gently shook you until your gaze met his. "That's my girl."
"So tired, De." Your groggy voice begged for sleep.
"I know you are, kiddo, but I need you to keep your eyes on me.”
"Too hard,” you murmured, “Can’t do it."
"Yes you can, sweetheart." Dean was no longer able to mask his concern. "How can I help, Y/N/N? Tell me what to do."
Your brother’s desperation lifted the fog numbing your senses, and you clearly understood what you hadn’t before; you were dying. Anyone else would panic at this realization, beg their God for more time, cling to the last bit of life and fight. Not you. You woke every morning knowing this was a possibility. Saving people, hunting things; it was a dangerous road.
You weren’t bitter; no matter how menacing, your days were full of purpose, and that wasn’t something most people could say. You weren’t afraid; years of close calls had prepared you for this moment. You were, however, insurmountably saddened by the fact that Dean had to watch you die. You knew he would bear the weight of your absence completely despondent and guilt ridden. There was so much you wanted to say to ease his inevitable grief, but talking had grown increasingly difficult as words and breath eluded you. The most you could do was take the hand of solace Dean extended. You silently prayed that would be enough.
"Tell me a story."
Dean smiled. Between your sleepy eyes and the way you were curled in his arms, it felt like you were little again.
“Have I ever told you about the day mom and dad brought you home from the hospital?”
You shook your head “No.”
“Sammy was not happy.” Dean gave a weak laugh remembering how ornery his brother had been.
“He locked himself in his room. I tried to tell him that having a little sibling wasn’t all bad, but he wouldn’t listen. Dad had to take his door off the hinges to get him out.”
“He loves’me now.” you noted dreamily.
“He sure does.” Dean agreed, furrowing at your slurred speech. Another sign that your body was succumbing to its injuries.
“That phase lasted less than an hour,” he continued.
“Wha’happn’d?”
“He held you.” Dean’s voice was thick with nostalgia. “Mom convinced him. He sat in Dad’s chair, and she laid you in his lap. He wasn’t sure at first, but then you smiled.”
Despite your pain, a contented grin eased across your face.
“Just like that.”
“D’d you hold me?”
Dean nodded. “You were so small, but I swear your eyes were as big and Y/E/C as they are now. I stared at you for hours. I never wanted to let you go.” I still don’t want to let you go.
Dean paused to clear the sadness from his throat, but he was losing the battle against his emotions. He could see your eyes growing dim and feel your skin getting cold. You didn’t have much longer.
“I love you so much, Y/N/N.” Dean’s words were short and breathless.
“I love you too.”
Dean pulled you closer and placed a warm hand on the side of your face.
“De?” A small, crimson spot appeared at the corner of your mouth. “C’n I close m’eyes, now?"
At once, Dean felt everything and nothing. He knew the instant your eyes closed, he’d never see them again. He cursed himself for bringing you on such a risky hunt. He cursed himself for not keeping a better eye on you during the fight. He cursed Sam for still being gone. Not because he thought his younger brother would bring anything or anyone to save you, but because he knew how broken he’d be, returning to find his little sister asleep forever. He wanted to shake you, to scream, to do everything in his power to ensure your heavy lids didn’t fall, but he refrained. He knew this would be the last comfort he could ever give you. Dean surrendered to his heartache and let you slip from this world.
"Yeah, baby girl. You can rest now. I’ve got you.”
Masterlist
#dean winchester x sister!reader#dean x sister!reader#sam winchester x sister!reader#sam x sister!reader#winchester sister#winchester sister!reader#supernatural angst#supernatural hurt/comfort#supernatural whump
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Judge them all or do not judge
I'm not liking what I'm seeing for this fandom right now, I'm seeing so much bullshit about Tommy Kinard... Like the fact that he was an ass previously etc...
Yeah I get it, he wasn't that good, but we only saw him for a few episodes back then, and they were not about him...
But guess what? All the characters did something awful in the past, and guess what again? We "forgave" their faults:
Eddie did flee his wife AND kid because he couldn't do it, like possibly DYING was better than raising his son, yeah father material right there... He then ended up in relationships to find a mother figure, that's manipulation (even if it's for a good cause)
Buck cheated on his girlfriend! He didn't do anything to help Maddie when she was with Doug, like he said himself he should have not ignored the signs, but he did!
Hen cheated on her wife with her ex like no big deal and then went back to Karen...
Bobby was an addict and it stopped him from saving his wife and kids, and he started that fire (not voluntarily of course but it was his negligence...)
Chimney hit Buck because he was protecting his sister and resented him about it! Because he thought he had the right to know where she was...
They all did something that they're not proud of, and I'm sure I'm not remembering everything right now, but we saw them grow, not change but grow with those difficulties and that's perfect, that's why we love them so much.
But Tommy might have been an ass before but he grew too! He came out, and it was implied that he was on better terms with Chimney and Hen so they still talked between episodes. People can grow, and Tommy did too we just didn't see it on our screens and a lot of people are judging him for his past, ok, if you judge Tommy for the man he was, judge all the characters for the person they were before too. Don't just take it out on Tommy because he kissed Buck, that's so hypocritical...
#911 on abc#tommy kinard#evan buckley#eddie diaz#henrietta wilson#bobby nash#chimney han#faults#tommy x buck#911 season 7
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And all the pieces fall, right into place // Part Four
So these two slightly disturbed and (one of them at least) psychotic doves had to get married eventually ..
All feedback is welcome <3
English is not my first language
Part One // Part Two // Part Three
Warnings: Its finally smutty and its about Feyd, so....
_____________
Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader
FxM
3.212 words
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Your descent is quiet, as you are still unable to think or speak clearly, while Feyd Rautha seems tense and concentrated. With the ease he demonstrated on the ascent, you are sure that this has nothing to do with him facing physical challenges with the task at hand. You want to ask him about it but decide to stay silent instead, afraid to reveal more of yourself than you already have. He was promised a Bene Gesserit bride, and so far, you have behaved more uncontrolled and wanton than you ever could imagine.
The sun's rays bask your ancestors' home in a golden blanket as you enter through the gates again, where servants are already waiting for you. The exertion of today takes its toll on you, and your limbs feel heavy. Na Baron, graceful and still full of vigor as if he had done nothing but rest all day, turns to you, taking your hand in his firm grip. The touch of his lips on your knuckles sends an electric current through your core, filling the air between you with something akin to longing. "My Lady," his voice a low murmur, a force veiled in restraint, before he enters the corridors of the castle, shadowed by the servants.
Left to navigate the tumult of your own mind, you all but flee to the room where the chaos began for you, the guest library, as if the essence of the last evening's events might still be found among the scrolls and candles in it. The door gives way under your touch, revealing the Reverend Mother and Lady Jessica in the velvet-draped armchairs, their gazes piercing the flickering light. "Ah... I just wished to—" Your words faltered, and you felt like yet again you are on the precipice of stumbling into something you cannot undo.
A welcoming smile graces your mother's lips. "I knew you'd come to us," she says, the question of how lay unasked as you stepped into their world, closing the door on the shadows that trailed you. You are not even surprised and just let the question of how go unasked.
The Reverend Mother's voice, calm and unfazed by your confusion, carries the explanation, so clean and cutting that you are shocked by the directness of it. "The Reverend Mother Margot at the Emperor's court has failed. She has convinced the emperor that she will bear him the Kwisatz Haderach," her words with an icy undertone, mixed with disgust. "The Emperor fears the loss of power, the alliances of our houses a threat he cannot ignore. The presence of the Harkonnens here is no accident; it's a guarantee of our safety."
Dryness claims your throat as the implications of this take form in your mind. "Does Father know? Am I the last to be told?"
"Your father is aware. Na Baron remains in the dark, but neither he nor the Baron Vladimir is blind to the currents of politics. Paul suspects as much." It takes all your resolve not to fall at your mother's feet as if her embrace might save you from any harm coming her way and your unborn sisters' way.
"Yet, it was he who wished that Arrakis be governed by us. My marriage, arranged from birth—" you state, confusion still swirling around you like dust in the air.
"Indeed, child. But Margot Fenring's betrayal has set a new course, one that places you at the heart of the Emperor's plans. The future is yours and Paul's to create now. If his marriage to the Fremen Princess is successful and you ensure you can manage some of Feyd Rautha's more volatile tendencies," the Reverend Mother pauses, "then your bloodlines will take control of Landstrad without even trying, and CHOAM holds loyalty to the Duke of Arrakis, no matter what they proclaim otherwise."
In the following days, you keep coming back to the library, training with your mother and Reverend Mother as much as you can. Lady Jessica couldn't help but feel a sting of pride at your eagerness and concentration, pushing yourself to your limits. This left you exhausted and almost silent during dinners, keeping your interactions with the Baron to fleeting gazes. It felt like each sight of him frayed your strained mind a little bit more, with darkness creeping into the edges.
You are aware that Na Baron continues his daily training undeterred. You hear Gurney and Duncan whisper about it amongst each other. They seem impressed with his combat skills, something that you don’t see them being often. You tell yourself that after making yourself rare for the last few days, it's only polite to see your betrothed the day before your wedding. Arriving at his guest quarters, you knock, but no one answers. Guided by an urge you are too afraid to name, you press on the indentation on the door, and within a step, you are in his chambers. His attire is folded with immaculate precision along the shelves, his blades, gleaming, lay in a seated shelf. It feels so intimate to get a peek into his tiny world here, an exhilarating feeling rushes through your body.
„What are you doing here?“
A hissing, high pitched voice behind you startles you. You swirl around and look into black eyes of a woman, boys as Na Baron, dressed in leather overall, if those tiny scraps couldn’t be called clothing at all. Her eyes have to whites or pupils, but are just filled with back, making her seem like a wild animal.
„Who are you“ You spit back at her.
„She is in Lots quartersssss… she will take him from ussssss“ Two other creatures appear from his bedroom, three of them looking together identically, The hair in your neck rises
„I am not the once to answer you. Now make space“ You take a step back, but the woman only come closer, his limbs moving slowly and in unnatural angels.
„Dont thinksss soo. Why let you leave if we can kill you and have him to ourselfesssss“ and with it one of them lunges at you, her nails at your neck, her meta smelling breath on your face. You smack her away, but its three agains one and you feel a stream of blood running down your gown and arms, the pain searing.
„Stop now“ within seconds you are free, crawling backwards and scrambling on get your feet
„Who are you?“
The creatures only make cracking sounds in return. „Well then,“ you finally regain composure and try to ignore the drops of blood on your hands. „You can keep that to yourselves as a last thing you do.“ And just as you are about to use your voice on them again, Na Baron appears with sweat running along his cheek, this tunic clinging to his body, revealing the chilled muscles of his chest and abdomen. His gaze wanders between you and the women, between your blood on the floor and the blood on their claw-like nails.
„ I see you could not behave as I told you“
For a second you are enraged only to realize that he is not talking to you. „What did I say?“ His voice is pure fury. „We are so sorry, my Lord. She was here uninvited, she shouldn't“" So you decided to lay your hands on my future wife? On my betrothed?“ The women treble with each word „“Forgive us my lord“ the pleas, black tears running down their cheeks. „I forgive you“ he says, looking into their faces and with a low, wishing sound he releases the blade from its holster on his hip, slinking through their throats in one motion.
You stare at the scene before you, the pool of blood crawling to your feet. He steps right through it and gazes into your eyes. „No one will hurt you again, my Lady. No one will ever lay hands on what’s mine“ You only nod and let his kiss seal the promise. Whatever softness he has shown before is gone and is replaced by hunger and ferocity that leaves you breathless. He seems to devour you with his tongue and as you come for air there is wickedness in his features. „I think you should run now, my princess, for I am not sure how long I can hold back myself“ Your feet run on their own, leaving him laughing in the wake. So this is a glimpse of what his true nature is rumoured to be, You would be lying if you would say you are enamoured with him even more now.
____
On the day of the wedding ceremony, you stay in your chambers. Duke Leto tries to protest as Paul comes to you, but his words fall on deaf ears. Only now do you begin to think of how many secrets had been whispered within those walls for centuries? Your handmaidens dress you, the gown is long and heavy with beads, mixing the vibrant green tones of Caladan, covered with floral patterns. As you move the beads sound almost like raindrops on cobblestones, a Melodie that carries you through the day.
When it is time, your father leads you to the grand hall, where guests are gathered in the sea of candles. The light of the flickering flames is mirrored by your dress and you hope it can distract from the crimson creeping up into your face. Na Baron stands at the end of your walk and suddenly you feel the weight of the legacy you are carrying, how the cloth that is going to bind your hands together will bind the destiny of your families into one. His figure is dressed in a flowing black coat, that od closed at his shoulders with chrome insignia of his house. His waist is lacking the ear so he presents knifes. He is a presence of solemn elegance. When your eyes meet, a hunger flickers through his composure, but otherwise he aims almost motionless. His white skin almost glows in the light, his posture reminiscent of the pillars at the entrance of the hall. The words of the vows are spoken and with the knot at your wrist, all the whispers of the future materialize in front of you. You can feel the heat radiating from your husband's body, but he doesn’t take your hand and his expression is more guarded than you could ever give him credit for. A small disappointment rears its head, but you focus on your breathing. Your prance, the paragon of elegance and dignity, stand at your side, while Baron Vladimir and his nephew, both imposing in their own way, seem to scan you and your family still with a touch of confusion, as if they are still unsure if this is the inevitable turnout of e union, their leaves whispering in the gentle breeze, a melody of timelessness and change.
_____
The feast seem total stretch itself into an eternity, with each new dish brought forward, each cheer to the couple more grating to your ears than the other. Feyd Rautha seems to sense your absentmindedness as he touches your lower back, startling you. A laughter roars through the halls as he presses his lips hungrily on yours his tongue in your mouth and his grip on your back. You feel the eyes of the guests in you and cannot believe that this is actually something that is happening to you. Such a display of attraction is not something you are used to seeing and even less experiencing. When he finally lets you go, your face is red and flustered and with him leaving into your ear, your hands try to hold him at a distance.
„None of that now, dear Na Baroness“ his voice sweet and low, as sweet as the snakes gaze at the rabbit it is about to devour. „You are mine now, remember“. You tremble at him addressing you with your new title, another piece of the puzzle setting into the new reality you are facing. Two handmaidens appear at your side and you are gestured to leave the halls. The cheering gets even louder and from the corner of your eye, you say Jessica raising an eyebrow at the Duke, who try to remain graceful and stoic through the ordeal.
Instead of your rooms, you are brought to the east wing. The chamber's candles mirror the grand hall, a subtle echo of their grandeur. The handmaidens leave out a nightgown for you, a whisper of black silk and lace and run a bath, fragrant with myrrh and pine. Hot water mist rises up from the basin, with tiny droplets lingering on your hair and gown. Just as one of the girls begins to untie the intricate laces of your corset on your back, Feyd Ruth’s voice fills the room.
„What do you think you are doing?“
„We are..“ The girl, clearly afraid bows down and tries to explain herself.
„You are leaving“ he declares and they follow the command at once.
You stay frozen on the spot, the small sounds of the dress beads on the floor retrying your shiver.
He is right behind you, the fabric of his cloak mixing on the floor with yours. His breath is on your neck, intensifying the shivers, which are now infused with anticipation.
His hands resume the handmaiden's works, unrevealing the masterfully woven ties until your back is exposed to him, your dress holding on to the sure edges of your shoulders. He lets his nails glide along your spine, leaving tiny red lines on your sensitive skin. When his fingers leave your skin you feel a twinge of disappointment, but within a glimpse of a second, they return to push down the dress, as it now gathers on your hips, being held in place by the last pieces of the laces. You feel exposed and try your best to to ver up, as he circles you, with the precision of a vulture hunting down its prey. Whatever restrain he had it seems to fade by a second. His Tonge flicks his lips, as he places one hand on your neck and disposes of the rest of the dress with the other. You are standing now bare infant of him, unable to log away, as his left palm holds your face in a position facing him. His right hand disappears uncerismonuoisly between your thighs, and brushing over your sensitive sport, circling your entrance. „ I am pleased to find you so welcoming“ he smirks, feeling the wetness of your folds. You try to say something in return, but your mind is wiped clean, when his lips are at your neck, sucking at the skin around your collarbones and leaving bruises in their wake while his other hand is still at your core.
He thought about this moment since your first kiss, letting all kinds of scenarios wander before his eyes. The Imagery of you bound to his bed, on your knees in-front of him, your hands behind your back and his hand in your hair. But for now, none of them seem enough to brand you as his. Your readiness however thinly veiled spurs him on and when he is satisfied with the chain of marks on your neck, he continues with your breasts, sucking and biting, which each whine you can hold back making him even more ferocious, The moonlight mixes with the candles, letting you appear like an ethereal creature, with soft curves and redness to the bitten spots, something divine and foreign to him. When your hands find his shoulders, still fully clothed, his voice is full of mischievous glee, like a spider that sensed something juicy got caught in the net.
„ I don’t remember allowing that, my Lady. But it's your first transgression, so see it as a chance to learn.“
A glimmer of fear finds its way into your mind, the memory of his hand cutting a human throat quite fresh on your mind.
„Now be a good girl and turn to the wall. You obey, feeling the relief of the tapestry pressing into your skin, a friction so irritating and delicious you almost cannot stay still.
„You are only getting 5 blows, but you are going to count them loud for my, my Na Baroness“ You sense how eager he is and brace yourself. Yet the pain is so searing on your bottom, ah his hands land flat on it, leaving a screaming red mark immediately that your legs tremble.
“It seems you didn’t count this one, so we have to start again“ Another blow on your butt cheeks lands with an intensity you didn’t expect.
„One..“ You manage to press between your teeth.
„Now that's better“ He almost purrs, a cat satisfied with its cats.
By the time the last blow lands, your are a mess of pain and desire.
You lay on the bed, your mind and body in a haze of desire and angst, as his clothes are disappearing on the floor. Your eyes wander dawn from his abdomen to his groin, where an unmistakable proof of his desire is covered in precum. He notices your reaction.
„It seems like you are ready for me, but you have to prove it to me yet“. He gestures you to get on all fours, your face to him. His thumb runs along your already swollen lips, and he nudges then apart. He fills your mouth, while clawing at your har, and when you look up to him, the blue in his eye is almost gone. His thrust are hard and fast, a gagging sounds that seem to please him and just as he settles into a ferocious rhythm. But just as you think his peak is nearly there, he stops and you see how a human in him disappeared and a relentless beast has emerged. He scoops you up and oxeye you are place with your back on the silken sheets, he aligns himself with your entrance.
„All mine“ he growls and enters you in one motion. As much as you anticipated this moment, you feel utterly unprepared by being filled out like this. He doesn’t pause and takes up the pace from before. You close your eyes and another orgasm makes you scream his name like a drowning person screaming for help. His Whole body is towering over you, a marble statue that came alive. The veins on his forearms becoming more prominent, his breathing ragged and shallow. To see him unravel spurs you on even further and your nails find his shoulders and back again, gliding down to his butt, revealing red stripes on the marble in their wake.You feel your whole being clinging onto him and his own peak follows closely. You feel his warmth filling you, his last pumps weakening, as hi almost collapses onto you. None of you is able to speak. There is a tiny trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades and along cheek bon, With an inexplicable urgency you flick out your tongue and lick it up from his face. With some of the icy flu of his eyes returning, he regards you with a satisfied smirk. „Please rest assured, that I am not done with you yet, my lady“.
___
@moonsoulk @aoi-targaryen
#feyd rautha#feyd rautha imagine#dune part ii#feyd x reader#feyd x you#feyd smut#dune movie#arranged marriage#shameless smut#paul atreides
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so i had an idea based on a horror manga i read forever ago
(not sure what to call this)
Emi Saito, a college student, lives a normal life with her nurse aunt and older sister, Kami... Until Kami, a famed geneticist, dissapears. A few months after, a horrible, unbelievable outbreak occurs;
All of Japan's regional and corporate mascots have become real, living beings, and many of them have a thirst for human blood.
Panic and terror rule the streets as hundreds of adorable (and not so adorable) mascots swarm and kill any human they come across. While there seem to be a few exceptions, most of the mascots are maliciously murderous. There doesn't seem to be a way to kill them either. Bullets, fire, acid, explosives...nothing fazes them. They regenerate at super speeds and bounce back seemingly no matter what.
Emi witnesses her aunt die trying to protect the patients at her clinic.
With no one left to turn to, Emi flees the city on her own, somehow managing to dodge the many mascots that prowl the streets. She makes her way to the countryside, attempting to find shelter or survivors. Eventually she's cornered by a small pack of wandering mascots, but just before they can take a bite out of her, she's saved by a rough-looking dog mascot.
He introduces himself as Uzu, the mascot of a small seaside fishing village. He asks Emi if she can cook, she says yes, and he whisks her (somewhat unwillingly) away to the village to be his lil' housewife- I mean maid! Housemaid!
Things are tentatively peaceful for the two for a while. Uzu is happy to have company-whohappentobereallycute-who can cook fish, and Emi is just happy to be alive and safe (even if her roomie is a bit terrifying).
Until some mail arrives for Emi. Her sister is alive, and is calling her to return home.
Uzu, who's come to care deeply for Emi (far beyond his stomach) doesn't trust the letter, and urges her to stay with him. They've built a good life here, he reasons, why rock the boat? But Emi insists. Her sister might still be alive, she has to know for sure. Uzu relents. He'll go with her, ever loyal, and kinda wanting to see the city for himself.
So they go, making their way across the countryside, fighting mascots and rogue humans along the way. When they get to the city, it lies mostly empty, ravaged and bloodied by the mad mascots. Emi, remembering her time before meeting Uzu, is now a bit reluctant.
#click for quality cause mobile is stupid#semisolid ocs#anybody here read pygmalion#it’s real messed up#exophilia#monster boyfriend#fuwa fuwa pandemic
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Rewriting My Tragic Ending - By Kxwon (7.5/10)
She needs loyal dogs! She gets that and more. The usual sweet holy saintess story gets overthrown by a woman who refuses to die. She steals the men that were supposed to worship the true heroine, and her meddling actually prevents unnecessary deaths. So this is junk without the guilt. Some necessary evil. A grey area villainess!
Alicia had the perfect life. The perfect family. Money. High status. She also got a magical and holy adopted sister, who she loved dearly.
Nix was clearly crazy from the start. But Ophelia was too pure and wonderful to kick him out. It was the one thing. The one time Alicia said no to Ophelia. Ophelia was allowed to have whatever she wanted, but Alicia wanted to kick out this one suspicious man! Ophelia fought back, and then Nix transforms.
He's barely human. A dark worshipper intent on sacrificing Ophelia to end their peaceful world. He wants his God to devour all. The entire family dies except Alicia, her baby nephew and Ophelia. Ophelia runs away after attempting to save Alicia...but Alicia doesn't know that. When she wakes up she sees Ophelia fleeing.
She holds her baby nephew. She vows to rebuild his family. She will make money, so he can have the title and life he deserves. The castle has been flattened. Their parents are gone, but Alicia will not give up.
It takes ten long years. Alicia used the money in her name to open a wine business. It's successful. She has managed to keep all of her family lands. Everything is going well, but she cannot share it with her beloved family.
Ophelia has not shown her face.
Alicia despises the coward who left. Ophelia never even came to the funeral, where their shared family was buried en masse.
Alicia is captured by Nix. To add insult to injury he doesn't care about her. He plans to use her as bait, to lure out Ophelia. Alicia wakes in a nasty cell, in chains. With nothing but cult madmen for company.
She dreams, and its a nightmare.
She dreams about a book called Ophelia's Night. She is dead in that book. Nix tortures her. He uses her body, literally, to lure Ophelia out. Ophelia accidentally gave Alicia her divine powers when she attempted to save her. Alicia can survive any torture, so Nix delivers parts of Alicia's body to Ophelia.
When Ophelia finally comes Nix beheads Alicia.
Ophelias powers return to her when Alicia dies. Ophelia gets over her cowardice when she looks at the body. She attacks Nix, finally ready to sacrifice herself for once. She wins and is declared the savior of mankind.
Now Alicia knows she has powers. Great. She manages to use them to escape her cell. She uses information from the book to find Ophelia's weapon. It's a man. His name is Norman and he's an unnaturally strong paladin.
She frees him.
The first chapter is Norman swearing his eternal loyalty to his savior.
It's promising.
He seems like a really sweet guy. He is, at the very least, her slave. He wants to serve at her side forever. There are other men too, and the villains are very bloody. Norman will probably be doing massacres for her soon. Hopefully. I got the yandere vibe from the promo chapter. Right now there's not much.
#Rewriting My Tragic Ending#yandere#male yandere#yandere male#yandere boy#recommendations#recs#rec#recommended#webtoon#otome#otome isekai#isekai
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also not a request, im writing what i want to read at the moment, it seems! The lowdown: there’s angst, sex and romance, all Lannister style. He growls. You’re welcome. Very reader focussed, but about a third of it is Tywin’s pov. Possessive, protective husband vibes. Again, you’re welcome. He’s Hand to Joffrey (gag) so it’s set post Robert’s death, but canon? We don’t know her. Also, can we agree Genna is the sister in law we all need?
Coming in at a whopping 8,112 words
In Time, the Lion Loves
Tywin Lannister x fem!Reader
It was a purely political marriage, one that occurred a mere fortnight after your meeting Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock in King’s Landing. He had been taciturn and serious bordering on standoffish most of the time. You were embarrassed that your father had all but forced his hand, what with Lannisters paying their debts and all. And saving Jaime Lannister from the Starks and returning him home when Lord Lannister couldn’t? It was a debt large enough to warrant a hopeless, trustless marriage between you and he.
“Let’s retire,” he said from beside you at your wedding feast, an ostentatious event organised by the Boy King Joffrey and his mother. He’d been unexpectedly amicable, in the way lord husbands were supposed to be with their wives. He’d let you sip from his wine goblet and had given you first pick of the plate you both shared. You enjoyed the roast pheasant while he preferred beef.
“Time for the bedding ceremony!” the King announced, face flushed terribly from the wine he’d indulged in, and green eyes sparking with malice. The King had always looked at you as though he might pounce, and tonight of all nights, you had to rein in your fear of him. As soon as men rose and began tugging at your beautiful gown, they stopped.
Lord Lannister had slammed his hand on the table, the boom echoing throughout the hall the feast was being held.
“No man but I shall touch my wife. Get off her,” he growled. The men around you couldn’t flee fast enough. Then neutral green eyes settled on you, readjusting your sleeves that had come down your shoulder some in the tugging and offering you his hand to escort you from the hall.
He poured you more wine once in the Tower of the Hand, but you did not move to drink it. You had let go of your fear of this man in particular, especially as he’d kept you close to him all evening, and had gently seated you beside him at the feast. It could certainly be a ruse, one to make him seem the perfect Lord even in a marriage he had not chosen.
“Stop thinking so much, you’ll make yourself dizzy.”
“I was thinking how much I appreciate your manner, my Lord. It would not have surprised me if you were a cruel man in private, though I am beginning to see there isn’t any needless cruelty in your body.”
He looked at you then, watching as you took a single, gracious sip from your cup, before turning and looking at him too. You were beautiful, this he knew. He was a widower, not blind, and he had appreciated privately any particular woman of exceeding beauty. But he’d always been a jealous and possessive type of man, and you were almost made more beautiful by the fact you were his alone. His wife. He’d need to get used to that again.
“You will bear me sons, and manage the Rock should we return. It would not do to sully our alliance so soon.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Are you nervous, Lady Wife?”
“No, my Lord. I snuck off to a brothel before we travelled to King’s Landing and had a whore explain to me the truth of a marriage bed.”
Already he felt a flare of possessiveness take him. The thought of you in any brothel made him twitch. Had any men seen you? Had anyone touched you? He found the thought entirely unacceptable, and was sure to say so.
“I knew I’d be married shortly after my arrival here, my Lord. I did not want to be uninformed, and septas take a vow of chastity. How could they give me an objective insight into married relations?”
“While it is an admirable quality to seek out your own answers,” he said, walking over to you and looking down as you sat opposite his desk. “You will not set foot in an establishment like that again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord,” you said, looking up at him with earnest eyes. He liked them, he decided, when they were settled on him.
The first night, he’d answered any questions you’d been left with on how a woman takes pleasure from her husband, and gods, did he give you pleasure. In short order, you’d found yourself looking forward to the hour or so an evening he’d dedicate to getting an heir on you. You were grateful he’d make it an enjoyable experience.
He was long and hard, and you’d taken him two dozen times at least already, and every time he had to let you adjust, lest he hurt you. It was sweet torture for him, feeling you tight around his cock, sighing and humming for him until he’d draw out more sounds.
Your hands, never stilled once he was inside you, gripped at his back, his sides, his neck. Anywhere you could reach, you would touch, but never outside the bedroom. He used to appreciate this, he realised, sinking in all the way and delighting in your gasp. Not having a clingy little wife who lingered about him at all hours.
No, he realised, drawing back then driving forward more firmly. He wanted you to be clingy with him. It was barely a moon into his marriage to you, and he wanted to possess you as much as you seemed to possess him. With this thought, he dedicated himself to your pleasure. He’d make you enjoy his cock beyond anything else, then he’d make you enjoy him.
“My Lord,” you whined as he brushed a spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut.
Oh yes, the Lion thought, he’d have you in all ways soon enough.
When you’d both agreed to make small appearances around the Keep, Tywin had thought it’d send a clear message that the Lord and Lady Lannister were united despite the tenuous start of your marriage. It did not quite have this affect, to his chagrin.
Men watched you everywhere you went, he realised on these walks. Their eyes would follow your walk, your hair, your face and any words that floated along the wind sweetly. You were splendiferous in red and gold, and he’d spared no expense on your wardrobe. Bedecked in the finest gowns, second to only the Queen, and even then outdoing his daughter to her distaste. He’d made it as clear without words as possible, you were his. And yet, these cads watched his wife as though she were still an eligible heiress and not his lady wife.
Then began the marks.
On your neck, your shoulders, even your wrists, which he delighted in kissing and licking in rare shows of intimacy. He was an odd man, your husband, but he left you to your own devices apart from your new routine of walking and visiting your bed to procure an heir. He’d stop his attentions once you were with child, you knew, but you ignored the twinge of upset the thought caused. He was not your lover, he was your husband, and you lived in a world where they were not one and the same.
The marks were bothersome, especially if he hadn’t kept to below your collarbones, as you’d told him to. He rather seemed pleased with himself when a bruise was left by your ear or your throat. You’d learned all sorts of hairstyles to cover them, styles that seemed to draw the eyes of others, but none moreso than the Master of Coin.
Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish was not a man you’d heard of before your arrival at the capitol, but he’d made himself known to you at your wedding, and seemingly every other day since. He’d appeared sympathetic at first to your marriage, though when he saw your irritation at the perceived pity, he’d taken another approach. Whispering words of the deeds your Lord Husband had done to carry on his legacy. The details disturbed you of course, but you were not so foolish to think Baelish would tell you anything of the truth, only what he wanted you to know. Ignoring him was easy, but his presence made you uncomfortable, try as you might to hide it.
“My Lady,” he smirked at you. Sat at a bench in the leafy shade, enjoying the weather and a good book, you greeted him politely but made no move to stand or invite him to sit. He cleared his throat at the ensuing silence. “I had hoped you might walk with me around the gardens, my lady?”
Closing your book, you stood and began making your turn about the aisles of flowers and crawling vines. He walked beside you looking at you out his periphery. You’d mastered the art of looking around a room without moving your eyes, so his attention was far less overt than he’d hoped.
“And what did you wish to speak to me about, Master of Coin?” You felt an odd yearning for your husband then. Surely the sly little man would leave you be if your hulk of a husband were near.
“Have you travelled to Dorne before, my lady?”
The question sent a chill through you. The man was up to no good, you were sure, but your husband would surely not desire to hear your concerns over the, as far, polite attentions of a member on the Small Council.
“I have not, my lord. I don’t much fancy such arid temperatures, so I cannot say I have a desire to visit anyhow. Have you?” you asked to keep your polite façade.
“I have, my lady. It’s a beautiful, if arid as you say, land. I’ve many friends there, and a home of my own, too, for when business takes me that side of the world.”
“If you only wished to inquire about my travels, Master of Coin, I shall bid you farewell.” In a move so fast you hardly realised it’d happened, Baelish had placed your hand over his arm. Coincidentally, your Lord Husband happened upon you both that instant. You pulled your hand from him with a delicate frown and took a step away.
“Baelish,” your husband gritted, eyes glittering with danger. For you or Baelish, you weren’t quite sure. Almost certainly both.
“Lord Hand. I shall leave you to your strolling, my lady. Good day.” And then he was gone.
“You are not to walk about the Keep unattended, wife,” Tywin says lowly.
“Yes, my lord,” you reply softly, turning to return to the Keep proper.
That night, your lord husband drew peak after peak from your body, relentless until you were practically unconscious from the pleasure. You’re mine, he’d said over and over as he drove into you. And he did not stop touching you. Your hair, your face, your lips especially. He seemed to kiss the breath out of you, stopping only when he’d finished a second time, and you could barely speak.
You’d woken the next morning alone, as you always did. Your husband would only share your bed for the act of siring an heir, and would always be gone by the time you woke. It didn’t bother you, you told yourself as you woke cold and sore. It was perfectly expectable for a husband to act this way. And you would do your duty, as you’d been taught to, so it hardly mattered if he was there when you woke. He didn’t need to be next to you in the morning to get a child on you, so why would he? It was this cold logic that helped you through your bath and preparations for the day.
===
Two moons later, and your husband had not refrained from exhausting you thoroughly every night. He stayed a little longer, waiting for you to be asleep before he would make his exit, and sometimes you swore you could feel his fingers caressing whatever body part was exposed to him. Though it was surely the musings of a well-sated, completely exhausted woman.
The Master of Coin’s attentions had not faded either, though this made you less than pleased. It was hard to desire leaving the Tower without your husband, knowing Baelish would find you inevitably. He had gotten into the habit of placing your hand on his arm when he could get away with it, which was often as he avoided your husband at all costs. There was no love lost between Littlefinger and the Great Lion.
“Your husband is making a three day expedition to the surrounding towns. Something the Hand does every year or so.”
“Yes, he’s mentioned it. He’s made arrangements accordingly.”
“You must be excited to see more of King’s Landing, my lady.”
“I have requested to stay behind,” you say offhandedly. You were hoping to gauge his intentions by telling him this. The look of determination, and something much like scheming, settled in his eyes. It frightened you.
With the desire to be away from this man and near to your husband, you bid the Master of Coin farewell and walked away before he could follow.
Entering the Tower and seeing your husband hard at work at his desk brought you a feeling of peace you did not realise he gave you.
“Wife,” he said simply.
“My Lord,” you always replied. There was a settee by the window, and in the time you’d been married to Tywin you’d never seen him sit there. You walked to his bookshelf, grabbed whatever spine took your interest and sat at the settee to read. Your husband made no comment, so you did not move.
A couple hours of silence followed, you reading about agricultural infrastructure and him responding to raven after raven.
“You’re disturbed,” he says suddenly.
“I grew weary of people watching me.” It was not quite a lie, but again, how could you be honest that you were hiding from the Master of Coin? That you thought he was up to something? That and how quickly you tired these days. Being married was exhausting, especially when your husband could not seem to get enough of your attentions at night.
“I leave on the morrow for the Tour of the Hand. I had summoned my sister to come for a few weeks to the capitol and she arrived today, but is resting. Mostly to get her away from that miserable husband of hers,” he added. He’d been doing that over the last few weeks, adding details that he usually wouldn’t if you were anyone else. It felt like a token, of what you couldn’t say, but something from him to you regardless.
Your anxiety got in the way of any warmth. Without Tywin, Baelish would have no deterrent to keep him from approaching you, even calling on you in your chambers if he was bold. Having Genna Lannister (never Genna Frey) would perhaps be a hindrance rather than a help. You didn’t know the woman, and the only other Lannister woman in the capitol made no efforts to get to know you.
“I shall look forward to meeting her, my Lord.” He hummed and that was that.
Later that night, after dinner, your husband summoned you to his chambers. Usually he’d cross the dividing parlour between your rooms and bed you there, but he obviously couldn’t be bothered to make the journey, you thought.
He was undressing you as he made sure to do every night, never letting you do it yourself. You undressed him, he’d instructed you on your wedding night, and he would undress you. It was only when you were splayed across his bed, hair unbound and laid across the pillows when his eyes darted to your midsection.
Palming your lower abdomen, and seemingly finding what he was looking for, he said, “You are carrying my babe in your belly, wife.”
The words brought dread. Would he stop his attentions? You hadn’t realised how much you liked them until they might be taken away. But then his words actually sunk in. A baby. There was a babe in your belly, your own, and in some moons it’d be in your arms, gods willing.
Tywin watched as you smiled small at first, then sat up and felt where his hand cupped the slight swell. He saw a true smile from you, one bright and warm as the fire in his chambers that crackled merrily. Tywin felt annoyed that he would have to leave you come morn, especially now that the next lion of Casterly Rock was in your belly. And quietly, perhaps he enjoyed the way you sat with him, and wanted more of the same.
Feeling pride at making his wife smile, and that he’d gotten a babe in her so quickly after their marriage, he kissed you breathless until you pulled away for air. It didn’t stop him from trailing kisses across your neck and collarbones, down to your breasts, which were heaving by now. He couldn’t wait to see them swell in the coming moons.
You thought he would stop there, return to you and get on with it, but he moved lower and lower, until he was staring into your most private place. It was embarrassing for a few moments, until he leaned forward and began kissing you there too. It was overwhelming. So perfect, making you writhe and pant. You never begged, but if he toyed with you like this long enough, you were sure you would.
“You’ve done well, wife. Allow me to reward you,” he purred before his tongue went inside. This, you decided, was well worth it to have waited for. In no time at all the sounds of him kissing you there overtook the fire and even your own deep, heavy breaths were drowned out. “One lion stronger, soon to be two,” he said as you peaked over his lips and tongue.
===
You woke a little after you’d both fallen asleep, tired and sated and, dare you think, happy at the prospect of the babe. It took you a moment to realise you weren’t in your own rooms, and that this was the first time you were waking up beside your husband.
He was laid out on his back, long legs nearly stretching the entire length of enormous bed, one of his arms bent underneath his pillow, and one stretched to rest under your pillow. You only allowed yourself a moment to admire him before quietly getting out of bed, collecting your clothes and moving like a ghost to your own rooms. It was hardly an hour past midnight, and you felt so tired all the time (from the babe you now realised) that all you wanted was to sleep.
Tywin woke an hour before dawn to an empty bed, and this infuriated him somehow. To be left while he slept made him feel as though you’d taken your pleasure and gone away from him. The only thought that stopped him from barging into your rooms was how that’s exactly what he did to you every night but the one you’d just shared.
Getting up from bed and throwing on a dressing gown to cover his nudity he marched directly to your rooms, finding you curled up by the edge of the bed, as though leaving a space for someone else. This appeased him in a way he couldn’t ascertain, but he needn’t linger. It was early still, and he didn’t need to be up and out of the Tower until after breakfast in a rare change of schedule.
He approached your sleeping form and gently manoeuvred you so he could scoop you up. You hummed, then frowned and blinked an eye open.
“M’Lord?” you mumbled.
“Hush,” he soothed, using the voice he’d found you reacted particularly well to. “I woke to find my wife missing from my bed,” he explained softly. “I am simply rectifying the issue.”
“Didn’t think you wanted me to stay,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and allowing him to grip you behind the knees and scoop you by your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you said, and Tywin was distracted by how sweet and docile you were when sleepy.
“Hush, I said,” he murmured by your temple. You curled closer to him at that, and his chest rumbled in satisfaction. “From now on, you stay in my bed.”
“With you?”
“Yes,” he said, eyes softening, though you’d never know with your eyes shut. “With me.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Tywin, he wanted to say. Call me Tywin, anything but that. He did not. He was asleep again in moments now that you were back in his chambers, and you’d been asleep again before he set you in the centre of the bed.
When you woke, your husband was still in bed with you, an arm wrapped round your waist, hand splayed over your slight swelling. When he woke a few minutes after you, your husband tightened his hold and pulled you closer. This was new, you thought. But delightful. You realised more and more how pleased you were that you married such a fine man, even if you’d never share a love or more intimacy than expected of you in public. This was enough, you told yourself. It had to be.
You both laid together for a while, and during that time you wondered if your husband would truly listen to you if you mentioned Baelish. But then he rose to dress in time for a midday departure, and you decided the moment had past. You would be able to handle Baelish. You were a lion now.
Genna Lannister was already sat at the breakfast table, and you almost did a double take. Where Tywin was sleek apparel and minimal embellishments, Genna was the opposite. She wore a scarlet gown that accentuated her plump figure, gold dripping from her ears and throat and wrists, and hair done so elaborately you wondered how long she’d been awake to have managed such a style. And she was vivacious as they came.
You enjoyed her immediately.
“Sister!” she announced at your arrival, standing and coming to greet you as though you were long time friends. It didn’t feel predatory the way Baelish or the Queen could be, so you smiled and greeted her the same way.
“No greeting to your Lord Brother?” Tywin grouched.
“Oh, are you here as well, Tywin?” Genna teased. He huffed and pulled out your chair, assisting you into it before seating himself and glaring at his sister to do the same so they may eat.
“And how is my big brother, then?”
“You’re only being tame because you think I have a secret.”
“On the contrary, brother, I know you have a secret, and even better than that, I already know what it is.” She turned to face you and smiled truly at you. “Congratulations, sister,” she said sweetly. “And you! What a greedy lion you must be to get a child on her so fast!”
“Genna,” he warned, seeing your embarrassed flush. The blonde only laughed and waved him away. And Tywin let her! What a marvel this woman, her sister, was turning out to be.
“Oh, quit your growling and eat your porridge, brother.” And Tywin did just that.
It was a lively breakfast that came to an end when Tywin excused himself to prepare for his departure. You curtsied when he bowed to you both before taking his leave.
“Tell me, my dear, have you thought of names?”
“I only discovered last night I was withchild, and it was even my husband who’d figured it out. Do you have suggestions?”
“Genna for a girl,” she joked. “Tyton is a strong name. Perhaps Tywin will like it, too.” You agreed, and you did like Tyton. It was a strong name.
Genna, after a tour of the Tower, insisted on a walk around the gardens before seeing Tywin off. Baelish did not appear, to your relief, but his absence was almost as worrying. He was up to something you could tell, but what? Maybe you could confide in Genna?
In the end, you saw off your husband as a good wife should, not even having to pretend very much that you were sad to see him go. The Queen hadn’t paid an inch of attention to you besides a look of distaste after she greeted her Lady Aunt. And then it was back inside for you and Genna to read, then eat and retire.
The next day, you realised that yes, you missed your husband. Already you were wishing the three days would end so he could be by your side again. Your anxiety about Baelish had only worsened since you’d found you were having a babe, and Tywin had suggest you both wait to see the maester until after he returned. The news would spread fast that the Lady Lannister was withchild, and Tywin had said he didn’t want to be far when that happened, in case of anything. You’d wanted to lean up and kiss him when he said that, but you refrained, certain he’d shoo you away.
“My dear, you look exhausted. Come, we’ll prepare for bed then retire.”
You nodded to Genna, who had doted on you in a rather maternal way since her arrival. She’d helped you to undress, then into your nightgown and bed, wishing you sweet dreams before going to her own chambers on the level below.
It was dark when you were disturbed by something. The fire had died down (no one but Tywin could make a fire that would last the whole night) and the room was pitch black. You turned to sleep again when something foul smelling fell over you mouth and nose. You struggled against the stranger’s hand, trying not to breathe in whatever was soaked into the cloth. To your horror, your body was relaxing, your mind losing consciousness. Your last coherent thought was a desperate yearning for Tywin.
===
Genna woke and dressed, her handmaiden well versed in her hair enough to do it all in half an hour, and was sitting at the breakfast table waiting for you. When half an hour past and she heard no movement from yours and her brother’s chambers, she made her way to them herself. If the maids were too incompetent to wake you then she’d do it herself.
Upon entering the room, she stopped short. You were not in bed, and there were no maids fluttering about as they would if you were bathing. Genna had learned to trust her intuition and felt something was deeply wrong, especially as the bed looked as though you’d had a restless sleep. She wanted to believe you were just up early and perhaps strolling the gardens, but Genna knew that wasn’t the case.
She called for the guards, and told them to gather as many Lannister men as they could to search the Keep for the Lady Lannister. She hoped beyond hope she was wrong, but she so rarely was.
===
You woke to darkness and the gentle sway of a ship sailing, and thought yourself dreaming before you jolted upright. You were in a cabin on a ship, that much was obvious. What wasn’t, was why you were there, who’d taken you and where you were going. Dread settled in your gut. Would your husband find out? A silly question. He possibly already knew. What you were frightened to consider was that he might think you’d run away. Your heart gave a fierce pang of longing for your husband yet again, and then steely resolve filled you. There was a desk in the room you were in, one obviously well used, if the stacks of papers, inkwell and sacks of coins were any indication.
You stood, saw a dress laid out on the bed, one of dark blue decorated with swirls in a pattern you knew Baelish to favour. You should have said something, you thought bitingly. You should have gone with your husband. Then you’d be exhausted but safe, and with him.
You dressed in the gown quickly, fearing someone would come in as you were underdressed. The gown had pockets, as was custom in southern dresses now that the Queen had made it so. A plan was forming in your head about what to do, and with the nimbleness of a mouse and the resolve of a lionness, you grabbed the smallest coin pouch, checked to see it had golden stags, then bound the pouch tight as you could to avoid clinking, pocketed it, then sat on the bed and waited.
Baelish came in after a time, not that you were surprised, but you had a part to play now, and you’d need to be convincing. Your life and your babe’s counted on it.
“Lord Baelish?”
“Hello, my dear.”
“My Lord, what has happened? Did my husband send for you?”
“Your husband,” Baelish began, walking to sit beside you on the bed. It was a violation of etiquette, though you didn’t show any discomfort. “Will no longer be an issue.”
Your heart almost stopped, but then you reasoned even Petyr Baelish could not kill your husband. Tywin was too well-protected and too intelligent to be caught off guard as you had.
“He has sent me away?” you asked, playing the distraught little wife.
Baelish made to speak, to deny your words, you knew. Then he paused, and you saw that he considered you believing this the favourable option.
“He did, my Lady. He had men retrieve you from your bed, but my own intercepted them and brought you aboard my ship. I intended to offer you a spot anyway, to come with me to the Vale where my betrothed awaits us.”
You allowed a faux tear to fall, and your head to droop down to your chest.
“He isn’t fond of me,” you admitted quietly. You weren’t sure it was a lie, so it was easy to say so.
“He neglects you, my Lady. You are such a treasure,” he said, the obvious lust making your stomach roll. You only managed to nod. “We’ll be docking soon, my Lady. I sent another ship to Dorne and we will be docking nearby to the capitol to avoid suspicion. Why would we be so close when there’s a ship making to across the sea?”
“Very clever, my Lord,” you said softly. He smirked at you then brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, you blushed and turned away, and it was enough to deter him from pushing for more. You felt sick that he was touching you, feeling as though you were somehow being unfaithful to your husband. You couldn’t let on that you thought this, so you didn’t.
You waited until you heard Baelish disembarking the ship with great fanfare, stating something about needing to settle some business in the port town you were docked at. It was very late at night, you couldn’t have been sailing for more than three or so hours, but regardless, it was many days walk and at least a day’s ride by horse to return to the capitol. You found a cloak and some old breeches and tunics in a closet, boots that were too big, so you stuffed some cloth under and around your foot. It made you a few inches taller, more convincing in your disguise as a sailor. You pinned your hair back with whatever you could find and slipped out of the cabin to find a guard slumped over in sleep outside your door. You hadn’t known he was there, but by the grace of the Mother, you had a chance.
You walked off the ship in no particular hurry to avoid suspicion, then made your way to the nearest stable you could see, banging on the door until someone answered.
“What d’ya want,” a grisly looking man groused once he opened the door. You placed the coin pouch in his hands.
“Give me your best horse, saddle it immediately and the coin is yours.” He nodded, looking at you strangely before doing as you asked.
“I dunno who yer runnin’ from, girl, but ye better be fast. An’ ‘ere,” he said handing you a pouch of what you discovered to be bread and some apples. “Some for ye, and some for the stallion,” he explained.
“I thank you,” you said quietly.
“Go on now. Sun’s comin’ soon.” And off you rode.
It was in the heat of the midday sun you began to feel poorly. Your legs were sore and chafing, your hips aching, and you hadn’t dared stop to rest or eat lest Baelish discover you. You wouldn’t rest until you were back with your husband, this you vowed.
===
“A raven, milord, from your Lady Sister,” the squire said as Tywin retired to his tent. By the morrow, he’d be back in his own chambers with his wife, and able to be rid of the grime that always managed to build up on the road.
He sat first, poured some wine, and took a long sip before unrolling the parchment and reading the note.
“Prepare my horse!” he roared moments after having read the note a third time. Men sprang into action, some packing his tent and others preparing to depart with their Liege Lord. Within minutes he was riding hard into the night and back to King’s Landing.
His wife had waited for him to be gone then she’d stolen away in the night with his babe inside her. He was furious, and he rode like it. How dare she, he thought. You had tried to make a fool of him and no one fooled the Great Lion and got away with it. Beyond his anger, he realised his chest was tight. She’d left, was all he could think. And he’d fancied himself to be growing fond of her. What a fool.
“I want a patrol to set out immediately,” he said to yet another squire as he marched into the Red Keep. “Find my runaway bride and bring her to me unharmed.”
“Yes, milord!” And away the boy went.
Genna was pacing in his study when he arrived, a worried look on her face she only wore for her family (minus her husband), then regarded him intensely.
“She did not run, Tywin.”
“She did,” he gritted out.
“She didn’t. She fretted the entire day you left, asked me about a dozen times where I thought you might be as the day passed. She did not leave, brother.”
And loathe as he was to admit it, his sister was far more perceptive than she had any right to be. If she believed his wife had not run from him, then he would try to believe the same. His anger immediately turned to angst.
“Then she was taken, and is likely gone to me forever if she is not found in the next days.” His voice was low, growlish, and Gemma saw right through it.
“She’s a smart little thing, Tywin, and we have some leads already. Have hope, brother.”
“She is carrying my babe,” he said, though his sister knew him too well not to know what he truly meant.
“She is your wife, brother, and she at least takes her vows seriously. She would not betray you like this, and I happen to think she will try everything in her power to come back.”
Tywin realised she could very well be dead already. How apt of the gods, to thrust a wife upon him he had no want for, then to take her from him when he did.
“I’ll kill whoever did this,” he said quietly. He felt his sister’s hand on his shoulder and clenched his fists. He wished for his wife in that moment, their easy silences and the way she seemed to seek him out just to be near to him. “And I’ll never let her leave my sight again.”
===
There was a point where even your horse refused to go farther, and you had to agree. It was nearing nightfall, and you were exhausted. Your whole body ached, and you thanked the gods you weren’t heavier withchild or riding wouldn’t have been an option.
You settled for the night, ate the bread the stable hand had packed you and fed all but one apple to your horse, who munched happily on them then the grass, then promptly went to sleep near you. It was a sweet horse, and didn’t mind when you laid next to it, leaning your tired body on its side.
You slept for hardly a few hours before dreams of Baelish catching you and Tywin truly having sent those men woke you. Rousing the horse, who seemed grumpy at being woken, you re-saddled him and began a lighter pace. You had already begun to recognise your surroundings, and made haste again towards the capitol. When you crested a hill and saw the top of the Red Keep in the distance, you burst into tears of relief and pushed your horse to ride on. He seemed to understand your anxiety to be home, and did as you bade him. You patted his neck the entire way through the sleepy King’s Landing, and all the way to the King’s Gate.
“Who goes there,” the gate master called out at your arrival. Your must’ve looked like a commoner with your drab coat and less than quality clothes. They probably thought you stole the horse.
Pulling back your hood, you revealed your face, unpinned your hair and announced yourself.
“I am Lady Lannister,” you said, and heard murmuring follow. A guard came down to you, shone a torch in your face and upon recognising you, he called for the gates to open and for someone to retrieve the Hand.
They escorted you up to the Palace steps, and assured you they’d take care of your horse, before a servant came to take you to your chambers. You could hardly walk, so sore from the saddle, and exhausted beyond belief. You were nearly at the Tower when a commotion caught your attention.
Ahead of you, you saw your husband. He was still dressed from the day and did not look to have slept, despite it being nearly dawn. He laid his eyes on you, and both of you sprang to go to the other.
Your legs protested the pace, but you hurried down the hall to him. In several long strides he reached you and pulled you to his chest, arms locking around you tight. You cried again, clutching the lapels on his doublet.
“Hush, wife,” he said, though you cried harder at his voice. He picked you up into his arms, told the guards to stand by the door on rotation, then took you inside the Tower.
You had cried all through him undressing you, and himself, all through the bath he’d ordered be delivered, and all through him washing your sore, bruised and chafed body. Only when you were back in your bed did you finally settle enough to speak.
“I didn’t run from you, I swear it, I swear it,” you repeated to him, begging him without words to believe you. He caressed your body from hip to shoulder, holding you tight.
“I know you didn’t, wife, though I had initially assumed that to be the case,” he said as though it shamed him to have thought that.
“Baelish,” you gasped. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think— I didn’t think you’d believe me, but I should’ve said, I should’ve gone with you,” you explained, though you didn’t really explain much at all.
“Baelish took you?” he growled, arms tightening around you. You nodded.
“He had two ships, one to Dorne and one to the Vale. We docked in the night to not look suspicious, and I found clothes and stole a pouch of coin, slipped off the ship and bought a horse. I rode all the way here, I hardly stopped.”
Tywin would be the one to kill Baelish, he decided. For making his wife afraid, for taking her from him and for putting his babe in potential danger. He would make it slow as possible without being outright torture if he could manage, though the idea certainly had merit.
“I was so frightened,” you admitted quietly, looking up from your husband’s chest to peer at him in the eyes. “Scared he’d get me all the way to the Vale, and then I’d never be able to get away. Scared he’d know about the babe and— and give me something to kill it,” you said voice cracking. You lifted a palm to his cheek, the first time you’d ever reached for him outside of marital duties. He leaned into your palm, eyes fixed on you. “I was so scared I’d never be able to see you again, my Lord.”
“Tywin,” he said, desperate, though you couldn’t tell it was that. “You call me Tywin.”
“Tywin,” you breathed, and then his mouth was on you. He called you wife, he called you lady, he called your name, all with ‘my’ attached. He did not leave you as you drifted into an exhausted sleep, nor as you rested. Not for anything. His grandson could summon him and he’d tell him to talk a walk off a balcony railing. He would not let you go, not ever again.
“I’m here,” you whispered in your slumber, arms equally tight around him. “I’m here, Tywin.”
He kissed your hairline, smelling the soaps he’d used to wash you, the ones you always smelled of. He couldn’t believe someone had dared to steal you from him, to take his lady wife.
“I thought you might’ve been…” he could not finish the thought. It would make him think of the familiar grief he carried with him every day, the one of a man who’d lost his wife. He could not compete with gods and nature, but he could certainly compete with Baelish.
“It would need more than a mockingbird to defeat a lionness,” you purred. His worry for you had made you feel needy, and you knew he hated neediness.
“You will not leave me,” he commanded, and your heart gave way to the affection you held off for so long.
“Never,” you agreed. “And if I go anywhere, I’ll take you with me,” you said, kissing him firmly, your fist time initiating such an embrace. He gave into you immediately, ravishing your mouth and neck and chest with those marks he was so fond of, and truly, you were fond of them too. Maybe you’d even be daring enough to leave your own.
He made love to you that morning, as the birds sang so did you, though to Tywin, your song was much sweeter.
It was some weeks before your husband brought up your kidnapping again. He had been fiercely protective since your return to him, and there wasn’t a moment you were unguarded. There was no Baelish in the capitol anymore, so you felt at ease enough to return to the gardens as you used to, though now you had Genna for company, who was doting and funny, and kept your spirits high through the stress of the recent moon.
You were declared in perfect health despite the bruising and chafing by a maester Tywin trusted. You thanked the gods every day since your return for keeping your babe safe through the turmoil.
“My dear,” Genna said, pulling you from your daydreaming. “Have you thought it might be twins?”
That night, you asked Tywin if he agreed with his sister, and after careful consideration, he agreed you were larger than usual for so early on. His eyes darkened, and he pulled you to bed within moments.
Your husband, you’d learned in the recent weeks, was needier than he let on. Always wanting to touch, always wanting to kiss your sweet mouth when privacy allowed it, and gods, did his desire for you become plain as the sun in the sky. He could not get enough of you, how your hips were widening and your breasts were swelling, how your stomach had begun to protrude noticeably. He was prideful as a lion, especially with evidence of his virility in the form of his beautiful wife carrying his babe.
On a day where you wanted nothing more than to nap and read in your husband’s solar while he worked, there was finally news of Baelish. His ships had been sacked by the Greyjoys, and he’d been held prisoner there for a sennight. Tywin allowed you to see his correspondence thereafter with the Greyjoys, and you nearly baulked at the sum of money he’d offered for Baelish, alive.
And, as in most things, Tywin got his way, and Baelish was delivered to the capitol in chains. He certainly looked worse for wear, and you privately found satisfaction in that.
Baelish had demanded a trial by combat, and a knight well known in Dorne had stepped forward to be his fighter. Tywin had wanted to fight himself, but as Hand to the King, he resided as a judge on the case and was not permitted. His son, Jaime, had volunteered to fight on, technically, your behalf, though he was officially representing the Hand.
Jaime arrived to the fight in Lannister gold and red, declared he fought as the son of the Great Lion, and would fight for his Liege Lady. He nodded to you in the Dragon Pit, where the fight was to take place, and you nodded back in appreciation of the message. Even the Queen, who had mellowed around you some with your pregnancy and her aunt’s intervention, had nodded approvingly.
The fight was far shorter than any would’ve expected, the Dornish fighter far more flashy than skilled. He was no match for Jaime, who was considered one of the greatest knights in history.
Baelish’s head hung low as his champion yielded, and Tywin had insisted he be executed then and there. You watched as your husband swung the sword himself, and forced yourself to witness Baelish’s head fall from his shoulders.
Later, when you were finished being sick, Tywin scolded you.
“You needn’t do things like that, watching something so violent. I should have had you escorted back to our chambers.”
You graciously took his hand as he led you to bed after you’d rinsed your mouth and chewed some mint leaves.
“I would not have agreed to be away from you,” you said simply, watching Tywin’s frown deepen and his chest simultaneously puff at your desire to always be by his side.
You’d grown bolder in your affections for him slowly everyday since your return. You touched him all the time now, and he revelled in it.
“Lay with me,” you requested sweetly, patting his side of the bed. Your stomach was certainly too large for a single babe, and sleeping had already become difficult for you, only made easier with your husband’s arms around you. It was inconvenient, but he would sooner bring his work to bed than give you reason to shy from him again.
“And how are my little lions,” he said as he reclined and cradled your belly in his palm.
“They’re— oh!” You exclaimed, reaching for your belly, a frown furrowing your brow.
“What is it?” he asked at once, dread taking him. But you smiled suddenly, grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly to the other side. He was about to call for a maester when he felt the fluttering kicks of his children (he was convinced there were three, though you vehemently hoped not).
“They’re saying hello to their papa,” you sighed as he began massaging your bump, as though playing with the babes inside.
He moved lower on the bed, pressed his mouth to your skin and hummed. You laughed as the babes wriggled inside you, the feeling odd and bordering on uncomfortable, but to see this man, your husband, so gentle with you and with children that did not yet quite exist, your heart felt fuller than ever.
“Tywin,” you called, prompting him to look up at you. “You are dearer to me than any other, my lion.”
Your husband smiled and crawled back up to your lips to kiss them. He did not say anything back, but he made the most gentle love to you, whispering your name and how lovely you were, how good a mother you’d be to his babes. By the time you peaked, tears had been streaming down your face, wiped away each time by the gentle hand of your man.
#tywin x reader#tywin lannister x reader#got x reader#game of thrones#tywin lannister#genna lannister
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TRIGGER WARNING!!! Gwyn's Assault at Sangravah
One thing I will never get over is how the other side will try to say Gwyn fabricated her SA to get an in with the Inner Circle to betray them.
Seriously? Gwyn had to spend TW0 YEARS in the library to heal from her trauma. She had her innocence taken and was about to be violently gang r*ped after protecting the children. She watched her sister get beheaded right in front of her.
And you want to say she fabricated the whole story and is working with Korschei? Be for real here.
Azriel was there to save her by slaughtering all the soldiers without a second thought and gave her his cloak after seeing what happened to her. Mor was there and brought her back to Velaris.
I'm sure Rhysand himself wouldn't have let her stay if there was even a whiff her story wasn't true. Rhysand, the same male who did this:
Rhys threw her an easy smile, one Nesta would have bet was crafted to put people at ease in his oh-so-magnificent presence. The casual smile of a male used to people either fleeing in terror or falling to their knees in worship. “Hello, Gwyn,” he said warmly. “Good to see you again.”
The same male who went on to tell Nesta "You are to treat Gwyn with kindness and respect."
Gwyn didn't fabricate anything and it's honestly sickening to hear the other side say that she did because they don't like her all because of a ship war.
Sarah herself would more than likely be sickened at hearing this. She set Gwyn up with a tragic backstory that she can use to help SA survivors when it comes time for Gwyn story to be told. Because she wouldn't have written Gwyn saying their stories deserve to be heard/told if she didn't have plans for more with Gwyn, and she sure as heck isn't going to make a SA survivor out to fabricate their story and turn out to be evil.
Gwyn's story is going to be heard one way or another, and it's going to be with Azriel, the one who Sarah went back to write who saved her and will be revealed as her mate and who will help her heal even more after what happened to her. Nothing can convince me otherwise.
#gwyneth berdara#pro gwyn#pro gwyneth berdara#saying her story is fabricated is sickening#go get some help if you think this#sa survivor#trigger warning: sa#pro gwynriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x gwyn#gwyn x azriel#gwyn acosf#pro gwyneth#gwynriel
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SJM is a Zutara Shipper? That sounds like Elucien....let me explain
It was recently brought to my attention that Sarah hinted in 2017 at being a Zuko/Katara shipper in the Avatar the Last Airbender series. This was exciting to hear as I was in the ATLA fandom over a decade ago and Zuko/Katara was my first OTP and introduction to fandom. I have loved them a long time and they will always hold a special place in my heart. I want to explore why Sarah shipping Zutara is really important when it comes to Elucien because there are a lot of great parallels.
Note: if you know anything about the ATLA shipping fandom/wars...you immediately know what she means by this. Zutara is a fanon ship that was often baited by the writers. Her disappointment is a shared, common reaction to the ship.
A very long, detailed analysis is below the cut. This NOT for ATLA discourse. This is intended to focus SOLELY on Elucien. Read below if you are a fan of Zutara/Elucien....
ATLA Characters vs ACOTAR Characters
Let's start with the characters themselves.
We have Prince Zuko, the exiled and scarred prince of the Fire Nation, who was banished after his evil, power-hungry father (the Fire Lord) horribly punished him for embarrassing him with his kindness (not wanting innocent soldiers to be used as bait in war), which he viewed as morally inferior and weak. It is implied his mother, a gentle-hearted woman, was abused in the marriage. She disappeared when he was young to maintain her husband's political power, only so that her children would live. The loss of his mother is his greatest trauma, along with his desire to go back home and gain his honor and father's acceptance.
Then we have Lucien Vanserra, exiled and scarred son of the Autumn Court, who had to flee after his evil, power-hungry father (the High Lord) horribly punished him for embarrassing him with his relationship with a lower-Fae female, which he viewed as repulsive and below their High Fae status. It is implied his mother, a gentle-hearted woman, was abused in the marriage. His lover was brutally murdered by the hands of his father/brothers and he had to flee, never having the chance to see his mother again. Losing Jesminda is his greatest trauma, likely along with losing his home, Court, and family.
Let's also not forget...they BOTH WEILD FIRE! I do think the Lucien/Zuko comparison is quite obvious and direct, where the Elain/Katara is a bit more symbolic.
For our ladies, we have Katara, master waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. She is the youngest daughter of the Chief. She begins the journey as someone untrained and incapable of bending her own element, in a small, impoverished village due to the effects of war and destruction on their nation/culture by the Fire Nation. Her mother was tragically murdered by the Fire Nation in order to save her daughter's life. This is singularly her greatest trauma. Throughout the show, we see Katara become a powerful and master bender.
Finally, we have Elain Archeron, who was once human and is the middle sister in her family. She was the daughter of a once-successful merchant. She also loses her mother and is very close to her father, who she also tragically loses in the war. She loses her humanity and her fiance, Graysen, in one fell swoop when they put her in the Cauldron. This is singularly her greatest trauma, one that we see she has trouble letting go, even becoming practically comatose when it first happens. We later learn Elain possesses magic and is a seer.
A little less here, but I am not surprised. Katara and Elain, personality-wise, are very different. However, I will add that both Elain/Katara are often associated as symbols of HOPE in the narrative. But this brings me to my next point which is where I believe SJM was influenced by Zutara when writing Elucien....
Shared Grief as the Catalyst
Every Zuko/Katara shipper knows the crux of their relationship is from their shared trauma. Despite being on opposite ends of the war, they both carry an immense grief in losing their mothers to the war. It is the first thing they realize they have in common, the first moment they share a genuine, sincere connection, enough for them to reach out and open up to each other.
Elain and Lucien also have a shared trauma. They both lost their first loves/fiances. Lucien lost her tragically. Elain lost him in a brutal rejection. It broke both of their hearts, and they both carry grief and complicated emotions around it.
The hurt and pain brought Zutara together. As a result, they understand each other in ways others can't. I have no doubt that Elucien will spark from a similar place of understanding.
Complimentary Symbolism
One of the most beautiful parts of Zuko/Katara is the use of opposite/complimentary symbolism. Two halves of a whole. Balance and unity.
Zuko= Fire and Sun and Blue Spirit
Katara= Water and Moon and Painted Lady
Lol can you believe we got the line below...I couldn't come up with a more romantic symbolic line if I tried and that's canon folks
Lucien = Day and Fox and Spring/Loss
Elain = Flowers and Fawns and Spring/Life
Elain, often associated with gardens and flowers and roses, was asked what she needed at her lowest point. She said "Sunshine." Enter Lucien, the secret heir to Day Court and Helion, whose name means Light. The Fox and the Fawn. Elain "Made for Spring" Archeron and Lucien "Spring Court Emissary and Courtier" Vanserra. I wrote Spring/Loss and Spring/Life because Lucien had to see Spring become ruined/flee the one place he called home. There is strong foreshadowing that Elain will help in some way to revive spring and possibly bring it back to life, hopefully with Lucien's help.
Let's also not forget that Elain was formerly human and now living as a High Fae in the Night Court. Lucien is a High Fae who looked down on humans and now lives in the mortal lands. It's an interesting dynamic!
Betrayal
Okay buckle up. This one is important. The feeling of betrayal is important to the development of both ships. Let me break this down.
Katara is a victim of the Fire Nation. Zuko is the prince of the Fire Nation who once hunted them down to retrieve the Avatar. She often conflated her feelings toward Zuko with her feelings regarding her mother's murder by the hands of the Fire Nation', as evidenced here.
Katara: I'm sorry I yelled at you before.
Zuko: It doesn't matter.
Katara: It's just that for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face.
We see these messy emotions come back when Zuko joins the team to teach Aang firebending.
Zuko: This isn't fair! Everyone else seems to trust me now! What is it with you?
Katara: Oh, everyone trusts you now?! I was the first person to trust you! [Places her left hand on her heart.] Remember, back in Ba Sing Se. And you turned around and betrayed me, betrayed all of us!
Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?
Katara: You really want to know? Hmm, maybe you could reconquer Ba Sing Se in the name of the Earth King. Or, I know! You could bring my mother back!
Now, at this point, we know she has not forgiven him for Ba Sing Se. Remember, this was the moment they shared their intimate connection over their shared Dead Mother trauma. (In an episode called The Crossroads of Destiny nonetheless). She offered to heal his scar, and later when given the chance to choose between what is right vs. what he wants....he chooses what he wants, which is to return home to his father for his acceptance. Katara took this as a personal betrayal and we see she still imagines his face as the enemy by demanding he bring her mother back (even though it isn't possible/he isn't responsible for it).
You know who else has mentioned betrayal?
For a long moment, Elain’s face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. “Lucien,” she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. “From my sister’s stories. Her friend.” “Yes.”
But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.” He wished she’d shoved him out the window behind her. “It—it was a mistake.” Her eyes went frank and cold. “I was to be married in a few days.” He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”
Elain associates Lucien's involvement with Ianthe/Hybern/The Cauldron as a personal betrayal. Lucien, much like Zuko, is sorry for his actions that have hurt her.
Both Zuko and Lucien don't argue about the anger/accusations of betrayal. They own it. They just want to make it right.
In the same episode of the snippet above ("You could bring my mother back!") Zuko and Katara go on their infamous "field trip" or journey together, just the two of them. Despite Katara's anger, the two of them are in perfect sync. They are the perfect team and pair, moving fluid in their elements, sneaking around enemy ships. Zuko defends her desire for closure (however dark it may be) against her friends and family wishes. He never questions her. He supports her emotionally. He yells at an enemy solider- "Don't lie! You look her in the eye and you tell me you don't remember what you did." (OH COME ON, what is hotter than that!?) In the end, she forgives him. Not because of what he did. But because he understands her and gives her space and places no expectations of who she is or what she should do. He accepts her. All the dark and pain and light inside.
Don't mind the romantic sunset in the background
Going on an adventure? Likely against the wishes of friends and family due to it being dangerous? Doing whatever is necessary to help the girl forgive you/trust you? Giving her the necessary space and support to do what she has set her mind to? Helping her find closure and healing along the way? Falling love? Sure sounds like an Elucien book......wonder where SJM got the inspiration?
Azriel vs Aang
I cannot write this post without mentioning Aang and Azriel. This is NOT an ATLA shipping discourse so please no comments regarding the Kataang/Zutara ship war. I am using this as a comparison to Elucien/E/riel.
I have a feeling that SJM has written Azriel (specifically in the Bonus Chapter) to serve as a foil to Aang's dynamic to Katara. Which is that both characters feel entitled to their crush.
Aang, the young hero and savior of the world, has a long-standing crush on Katara that is not really reciprocated romantically throughout the series.
When the group goes to watch a play based on themselves, there is scene where the actors on stage go:
Actor Zuko: Wait, I thought you were the Avatar's girl! [Aang in the audience nods in agreement.]
Actress Katara: The Avatar? Why, he's like a little brother to me! I certainly don't think of him in a romantic way. [Aang in the audience grows concerned.] Besides, how could he ever find out about ... this? [Actress Katara and Actor Zuko embrace and hold hands while Actress Katara pops up one leg. Aang gets up from his seat to leave.]
It can be interpreted that his nodding and getting upset is attributed to feeling possessive of his crush on Katara. That she belongs to him, as he is the Hero and the Avatar, and should get the girl. He is jealous of something that didn't actually happen between the actors on stage (he is only 12 to be fair).
Further evidence here:
Aang: But it's true, isn't it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we're not.
Katara: Aang, I don't know.
Aang: Why don't you know?
Katara: Because, we're in the middle of a war, and, we have other things to worry about. This isn't the right time.
...and then he kisses her, and she doesn't want it/isn't expecting it, and runs away back to the theater. We won't get into that here.
Hm, this story sounds familiar....
Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another."
There is a similar sense of entitlement, that also ended with Elain running away from the scene, upset. The difference being he rejected her at the urging (and convincing) of Rhysand because he knew it was a mistake.
Tension & Healing & Growth (What's Next)
"There is a great deal of tension, growth, and healing to be found for both of them (together)." - from Sarah J Maas herself. If she was a Zutara shipper, I can totally see her inspiration in elements of Elucien.
In the end, many Zuko/Katara shippers really believed these two brought out the best in each other in the best possible ways. (I know I did). And I think that's a big reason a lot of Eluciens ship Elain/Lucien...the potential of how they'll complement each other is so huge.
Just as Katara and Zuko were once extremely tense in their relationship, they underwent an incredible and beautiful journey of healing and growth. One that ended in....Zuko sacrificing his life for her. Animated in slow motion with romantic/epic musical scores. For the girl who lost her mother (who sacrificed herself to save her daughter). An epic friendship but no romance....which Sarah herself agreed she wasn't a fan of....
So I imagine she is going to rectify that narrative for Elucien. I for one cannot wait to read their story in their book.
#elucien#pro elucien#elain x lucien#lucien vanserra#elain archeron#SJM is a zutara shipper#elucien meta#THIS IS NOT ATLA SHIPPING POST#DO NOT ENGAGE IN ATLA SHIPPING#this is purely elucien comparison#anti elriel#antielriel#elucien supremacy#i wrote this because i fucking love zutara and elucien#also these ship wars are so similar lmao
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Not long ago I finished reading @TimothyDSnyder's book
"Bloodlands. Europe between Hitler and Stalin".
I wanted to share some quotes from the chapter on the Holodomor that struck me personally the most. It is difficult to imagine what was happening then. A small but heavy thread:
The peasants who were slowly dying of starvation were believed to be saboteurs who were actually playing into the hands of the capitalist powers who wanted to discredit the Soviet Union. Hunger is resistance, and resistance is a sign of the imminent victory of socialism.
Forced to pass off their swollen bellies as a manifestation of political opposition, they came to the conclusion that the saboteurs hated socialism so much that they deliberately brought their families to starvation.
On 22 January 1933, Balytsky warned Moscow that peasants were fleeing the republic, and Stalin and Molotov ordered law enforcement agencies to stop the flow of people. The next day, the sale of long-distance railway tickets to peasants was banned.
The Ukrainian musician Yosyp Panasenko was sent with a group of bandura players to the countryside to bring culture to the starving peasants. Having taken away the last piece of bread from the peasants, the authorities had a grotesque intention to raise the mood and spirit of the deathly hungry people. The musicians found completely empty villages.
Children born in the Soviet Union in the late 1920s and early 1930s found themselves in a world of death, surrounded by helpless parents and a hostile government. The average life expectancy for a boy born in 1933 was seven years.
One father in the Vinnytsia region came to the cemetery to bury two of his children, and when he returned, he saw that another child had died. Some parents locked their children in the house to save them from cannibals.
Parents gave their children to distant relatives or strangers, left them at railway stations. Desperate peasants who held their babies through the windows of the wagons did not necessarily beg for bread: very often they wanted to give their children away, to strangers who lived in cities and did not suffer from hunger.
Countless parents killed and ate their own children and then died of hunger anyway. One mother boiled her son for food for herself and her daughter. A six-year-old girl rescued by relatives last saw her father sharpening a knife to stab her.
The children's stomachs were swollen, their whole bodies were covered in wounds, scabs, and abscesses. We took them, laid them on the sheets, and they were moaning. One day, the children suddenly stopped talking, and we looked at them and saw that they were eating the youngest one, Petrus. They were pulling off his scabs and eating them. And Petrus was doing the same thing - pulling off his scabs and eating them, eating as much as he could. Other children were sucking blood from their own wounds. We pulled the children away from this activity and cried.
There came a time when there was virtually no grain left in Ukraine, and human meat was the only type of meat.
One Komsomol member in the Kharkiv region reported to his superiors that he could only meet the meat supply plan at the expense of human beings.
More than one Ukrainian child has told a brother or sister: "Mum said we should eat her if she dies". This tragic solution was found by love and care
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A Lost Princess of Sunlight
Summary: Lady Elain has spent her life in the idyllic countryside wanting for nothing, so when her adopted sister Vassa begs her to accompany her to court, how can Elain say no? The roguish prince is in need of a wife and Elain, certain she'd make a terrible princess, has no interest in such theatrics.
But something about the palace brings back memories lost to the sea ten years before. Memories Elain had been certain she'd never get back…memories that speak of a colder place, and sisters long forgotten. Amid the tumultuous politics and the looming war, Elain finds herself embroiled in a mystery to find out who she really is.
And where she really comes from.
Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @writtenonreceipts! I hope you like this- I tried so hard to give it TOG vibes AND to incorporate nessian and feysand because you said you love them (and I in turn love you).
@acotargiftexchange
Major thanks to @velidewrites and @wilde-knight for the moodboard + beta-ing this fic when I was laying face down in a puddle of my own tears.
--
Prologue:
“Go,” Feyre whispered, hands pushing against Elain’s back. It was frigid outside, their boots cracking the ice crusted over the cobblestone streets. It should have smelled like pine and snow, should have been utterly silent as everyone waited for the coming Solstice and the gifts that so often accompanied it.
War had shattered the once idyllic peace, inching closer and closer to the capital of Ellesmere until Elain and her family were forced to flee in the night. Just ahead, her mother grasped Nesta’s hand, weaving through alleyways unfamiliar to the ransacking soldiers.
She knew where they were going. They had practiced this before. One more left, ducking beneath a half-ruined awning, and then a sprint to the docks where a ship was waiting. Her father was nowhere to be seen, though Elain supposed he had a head start on them.
“Go,” her mother urged, pushing Nesta, then Elain, and finally Feyre into the little vessel. A man was waiting, hoisting them beneath with hurried, impatient fingers. “Get down—”
A flaming arrow screamed through the night, missing Feyre by mere inches. It took Elain a minute to realize what had happened—the shield that had saved her youngest sister’s life. Their mother stared, blue eyes like glassy mirrors against her ashen face. Golden brown hair graying at the temples was set aflame. Nesta began screaming, the words ringing in Elain’s ears.
“Go,” their mother mouthed, hitting her knees before she pitched forward. Hands pulled the three of them roughly back into the boat as orders were given to pull up the anchor. Was she crying? It seemed as if she must be given how frozen her face felt.
The world was moving too slow for Elain, making it impossible for her racing thoughts to process. Even as the ship pulled away, dragged by roaring wind, Elain was certain their mother was going to get up.
She didn’t.
“Princess,” the captain was yelling at Nesta, unsteady against the choppy northern sea. “Princess, we need—”
Elain never heard what they needed. The wind drowned out the command which Elain didn’t care much about, anyway. Was Nesta Queen, now? The few sailors moving about eyed her fourteen-year-old sister warily and though Elain couldn’t hear what Nesta said, she recognized the sharpness of her eyes. Nesta was used to giving out such commands. Feyre was gripping the railing of their ship, staring at the water below with a hollow gaze. Elain knew what she needed to do—put on a brave face and take Feyre into the interior of the ship where they could get some sleep, if only to forget what was happening to their home.
Everything was going to be okay. They’d get to the safehouse where relatives would be waiting to usher them to safety. Everyone was okay. A healer would attend to their mother who would be bedridden but otherwise safe.
Deep, deep down Elain knew it was a lie. She needed those lies, at least for now. As the ship rocked, Elain made her way toward Feyre who was still looking outward. The once beautiful city she’d spent her life in was a mere haze of smoke and fire in the distance, half lost to the fog of sea.
“Feyre,” Elain began, though that was all she was able to say before the ship violently lurched to one side. The gods were moody that night, unwilling to offer safe passage despite the circumstances. Elain lost Feyre, hitting her back against the wet wood so roughly it robbed her of breath.
Please, she thought just as water rushed over her. It was shockingly cold, leaving her paralyzed like a rag doll, flung from one end to the other. She could hear nothing, could do nothing, utterly helpless to even draw breath though she desperately wanted to.
Get up get up get up! Her mind screamed with panic. Elain did try to grasp at something when the ship tilted sickeningly again, though her fingers were utterly stiff and unwilling to bend. The world was upside down, a swirl of dark hues of navy and gray.
And then it was silent and salt and made entirely of water. Elain’s body constricted, lungs demanding air though none arrived when she opened her mouth. More water, more fear. She could feel nothing, could see nothing. Just a blur of her own hazy fear and the terrible fear she was going to die.
Elain did try, though it amounted to nothing. There was nothing to cling to, no light to tell her which way was up and which way was down. And as the cold seeped in, somehow driving out the horrible chill, she thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was better to be without fear.
Maybe this was a mercy.
In the end, it was nothing at all.
[ten years later]
Lucien Vanserra stretched out his legs, neck stiff. “Bastard,” he spat, tossing his sword to the muddy ground beneath him. Behind him, the boisterous laugh of his best friend and second-in-command Jurian followed him out of the training pits.
“You’re a sore loser,” Jurian crooned, likely catching the way Lucien’s fists curled and uncurled. “I have half a mind to tell your father you were bested in training again.”
“And I have half a mind to punch you in the face ahead of Lady Vassa’s visit,” Lucien retorted hotly, wiping the smile off Jurian’s face. “Oh. Did you not hear she was coming to court?”
It was Jurian’s turn to look as though he’d like to hit Lucien. Lucien had intended to tell Jurian though it had slipped his awareness given all the other things happening. Now was as good a time as any, besides.
“Why?”
“Why do you suppose? Now that mother and father insist I marry, every lord with a daughter under the age of forty will descend upon us hoping to secure a match.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” Lucien snapped, wiping his sweaty brow against his bare forearm. “And Lady Vassa is hardly on mothers shortlist besides. This little ball of hers is not in good faith.”
“Ah, but it will be one last night of debauchery and fun,” Jurian teased, elbowing Lucien in the ribs. “This is every firstborn son’s duty, is it not? Get married, carry on the family line, etcetera and so forth?”
Lucien’s mood only darkened at the prospect. It wasn’t that he minded the thought of one day having a son, of becoming king and ruling the empire his father had so strategically built. It was the manner in which he was expected to do it. His own father had been allowed to choose his wife, however ill-advised it had been at the time. Lucien had no intention of stealing another man's wife as his father had done, sweeping her away and leaving six furious sons behind.
He merely wanted the ability to say who he wanted when he wanted.
And, perhaps, he was still a little burned by Jesminda’s rather abrupt dismissal of their courtship. She was gone, left to the countryside with her new husband she loved. Lucien told himself he ought to be happy for her. It had been nearly two years since she’d left, married and beaming—practically glowing, now that he thought about it. He’d been too bitter at the time to notice. He didn’t begrudge her that.
Lucien merely wished she had felt that way about him. He was convinced there was no one else in the world for him and perhaps he’d told his mother so drunkenly a few months earlier. If he’d only kept his big mouth shut, he’d have been allowed to carouse as he liked for at least another year.
Possibly two if he was careful about it.
Now he’d be married by solstice—just in time to parade his new wife around the summit in Velaris while making not-so-veiled threats to Archeron, the utter bastard. He was in the process of marrying off his eldest daughter so he, too, might have a successor to the throne, looking west toward Lucien’s half brother which was a threat in and of itself.
Everyone knew the Vanserras would love to see the southern empire laid to ruin. It was important Lucien married more than ever—ideally into a family with deep pockets to fight the war they all knew was coming. Peace was tentative, brokered when the northern royals lost their queen and a princess all in the same day. Ellesmere ceded territory laden with gold, enriching Lucien’s family and in exchange his father returned their remaining two daughters, rescued at sea.
He still remembered Nesta Archeron. They’d been allowed to live in the palace rather than as prisoners and while Feyre had been mostly mute, glassy eyed and silent, Nesta had raged like a wild animal.
If she still harbored even a lick of resentment, Lucien knew she’d be the driving force behind Eris Vanserra’s throne and her father's bid for revenge. Eris was coming on a diplomatic mission, too, which was the polite way of saying Lucien’s mother was going to throw herself at his feet and hope she forgave her for leaving, while offering up all the same women she was pushing at Lucien, too.
As if Eris were the type for a love match.
Shaking his head, Lucien pushed through the wooden gate to make his way back toward the city. It was unseasonably hot even for summer, the humidity drawing sweat even when he was sitting in the shade. It was miserable just then, boots hitting the sunstone streets with a loud thwack. Behind them, the sounds of clanging metal and groaning soldiers were half drowned by the cheerful white sands and foaming ocean, while ahead of them the bustling city created a chorus of voices. It was Lucien’s favorite sound.
And his favorite sight. The looming palace on the hill made of ivory and gold and the multicolored buildings that circled around, built on a sloping mountainside. Purple flowers dotted along spiky grass while towering palm trees occasionally dropped coconuts to the streets. As a child, Lucien had collected them, begging his father to puncture them so he could drink the milk inside as he strutted about, a pretend sword strapped to his hip.
Now when he stepped onto the main road people lowered their eyes and bowed their heads. He wasn’t a boy anymore, but a man they might one day call king. Lucien missed being the former, though—missed the way they’d reach for a strand of his auburn hair or how they’d sneak him little treats when they thought his parents weren’t looking.
Jurian straightened, his expression shifting from Lucien’s friend to Captain of the Guard. One day Jurian would be his General, but for now, this was enough. Jurian was one of them—just another man from Rhodes who had risen through the ranks while making Lucien feel less isolated when he, too, had been shoved into the army. Everyone else treated Lucien with respect.
Jurian had shoved his face into the dirt.
“There’s a way out of immediate marriage,” Jurian began, reminding Lucien once again why he was both Lucien’s best friend and closest advisor.
“Go on,” Lucien murmured, inhaling the smell of grilled meat.
“Velaris is filled with beautiful women. Tell your mother you’re interested in a more political marriage.”
“And when she realizes I’m not interested in a more political marriage?” Lucien asked dryly, trying to think of the last time he’d been inside Velaris. Had he ever? Maybe once when he’d been a boy, the memory eluding him.
“It’ll be winter and half the ladies who visited will be married to other lords. It’s not forever, but maybe another year or two. Nothing will save you from the marriage bed forever.”
“It’s better than anything I considered,” Lucien agreed, dodging a donkey hauling a cart filled with sunmelons.
“And who knows. Maybe the love of your life is up in the mountains,” Jurian added, elbowing Lucien once again.
“I doubt that,” Lucien grumbled, his thoughts once again turning toward Jesminda. How long before she was pregnant, he wondered? How long before she brought her firstborn to court for his father’s blessing, forcing Lucien to see the man and family she’d wanted over him?
Why not me?
Knowing full well Jesminda had never wanted to be a princess and had never wanted to be queen.
He couldn’t shake the thought from his mind even as he entered the opulent palace to a loud argument between two of the philosophers his father insisted be allowed to live at court. Sidestepping them and mumbling a goodbye to Jurian, Lucien took the steps two at a time toward his bedroom. He needed just a little silence and a chance to clear his head.
Flopping onto his bed, still sticky from heat and sweat, Lucien closed his eyes, intending to find a way through the tangled mess that was his mind.
All he found was sleep.
“Come with me,” Vassa urged, reaching for Elain’s hands. “Please. Please. Pleasepleaseplease—”
“I don’t belong at court,” Elain interrupted, looking up from her book. Vassa plopped beside her, spreading her hands over the cerulean blue of her skirts. “And you’ll have more fun without me.”
“I won’t. I never do,” Vassa protested, pretty face twisted into a scowl. “The prince is a bore and his court is far too self-satisfied to be of any amusement.”
“Stop, you’re making it sound too fun—”
“Come with me anyway. Rhodes is a wonderful city filled with libraries and museums and amusements beyond your wildest imagination. Plus there will be parties and dancing and you love parties and dancing.”
“Yes, and there will be all these well-bred ladies–”
“You’re a well-bred lady, and my sister to boot.”
Elain offered Vassa a look of exasperation. They were sisters in name only, but not by blood. Elain’s family was yet another casualty in the brutality the north inflicted upon them, razing her village to the ground and tossing her body into the western sea. Had she not been found by Lord Koshington, Elain might have succumbed to exposure. Her life before Vassa was lost to her and in some ways, she knew she was quite fortunate. She’d been given the education of a lady and one day a marriage would be arranged on her behalf.
It was far better than whatever she’d been expecting before the raid, she supposed. But just because Lord Koshington had taken her in didn’t make her an actual lady. Elain had never been brave enough to go to court either, choosing to remain behind rather than be reminded of her inadequacies.
She wanted to see it all, if only once.
“I should stay–”
“I won’t take no for an answer. Please. I’ll do your latin homework for a week if you agree. Or…I’ll give you my gold dress—”
“You wouldn’t,” Elain replied, facing the book in her lap to fully look at Vassa. “You love that gown.”
“I love you more. Is that an agreement, then? You’ll spend a month in Rhodes with me in exchange for my gold dress?”
“And my latin homework. And you’ll work harder on the piano when we return as well. I’m tired of being the only one asked to play when guests come over.”
“Done,” Vassa agreed, blue eyes as bright as the sun itself. “Lucky you agreed because I may have told father this morning you’d agreed to accompany me. We’ll serve as each other's chaperones so he can waste his time droning on and on with the king about politics.”
“Chaperones? Who are you hoping to see?”
Vassa’s bronzed cheeks darkened, her freckles lost beneath the wash of color. Elain forgot her book entirely, surging forward until their faces were mere inches apart. “Tell me his name at once!”
“Swear to keep it between us. I would die if he ever learned the depth of my affection. He thinks I loathe him and I would prefer to keep it that way.”
“You’re cruel, Vassa.”
“Men prefer to work for our affection and this man is no different. Worse, I suspect, which is why I like him. The prince’s mother is hoping to match someone with her son but I am far more interested in the Captain of the Guard.”
“Is he handsome?” Elain asked, resting the back of her head against the rough bark of the tree behind her.
“Terribly handsome. And horribly stupid, but in an endearing sort of way. I’m certain he’s good at many things…just not winning an argument.”
“Well, no one can win an argument against the likes of you,” Elain said with a laugh. “What will the lord say about it?”
Vassa’s smile dipped a bit. “No, I’m sure. He has no title, no money and will always serve the prince. Still. It’s fun to imagine a world in which we could select our own husbands, don’t you think?”
“I’ve never really thought about it,” Elain admitted. “It seems risky.”
“That’s just what men want you to think. But we’re perfectly capable of knowing our own minds and deciding for ourselves. We’re not as helpless and brainless as they imagine.”
“What are you planning?”
“Me? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of planning or plotting.”
Elain rolled her eyes, wondering for the first time just how much Vassa actually liked this man and how far she might be willing to go. Elain pondered it all evening, wondering if she shouldn’t tell someone that sending the two of them mostly alone to Rhodes was a bad idea.
But Vassa’s words lingered in her mind.
We’re not as helpless and brainless as they imagine.
Because Vassa was right. She’d been educated within an inch of her life just for men to waltz around her acting as if she were as new as a freshly born baby. Treated as though it were cute she had opinions when she was supposed to be nothing more than ornamentation while Elain brushed it off because what else could she do?
But Vassa was right, just like she always was. They weren’t stupid—men wanted it both ways. They wanted a wife smart enough to one day oversee the education of their sons, but stupid enough they were always the unchallenged authority. It didn’t mean Elain wouldn’t acquiesce when her time came—she had no other option and no other skills but to be married—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help Vassa escape the expectations.
That was what Elain told herself, anyway. And it helped her sleep at night for the following week as preparations were made to leave the idyllic countryside estate they resided on and make their way further south toward the coast. Lord Koschington was still accompanying them and would be the one to introduce Elain to court—as his niece rather than his daughter. That was the more believable lie without besmirching Elain’s reputation right from the start.
With the gold gown packed in a trunk and the promise of being allowed to coast in her lessons when she returned—assuming Vassa returned with her at all. Elain was dreading the carriage ride not because the journey was long and it was already oppressively hot, even at dawn, but because Lord Koshington loved to hear himself talk.
And in the carriage he had a captive audience.
For five miserable hours, Vassa and Elain sat straight backed and silent while Lord Koschington droned on and on about King Helion’s feud with the King of the North, Archeron. Elain loathed the name like any good southerner, having learned to fear those silver armored warriors that often ducked across the border to raze whole villages to the ground.
He had two daughters and Koschington was fascinated with the oldest, said to be unparalleled in her beauty and destined for the prince to the west, Eris Vanserra. For five hours, all he talked about was the disaster it would be if those two territories united and how Lucien would be the last Spell-Cleaver to ever sit on the sunlit throne. It was the sort of conundrum that kept men like Lord Koshington awake at night but to Elain, who couldn’t remember the war and had been living in nothing but peace for the last decade, it felt more like unwarranted anxiety.
Who cared about a princess’ marriage? Why wouldn’t she marry a prince, besides? Elain had heard rumors that Eris Vanserra was the most handsome prince in the realm, still unmarried as his ancient father crept toward the grave. She imagined there was a line from his bedroom door to the edge of his coast hoping to secure him as a husband.
As for herself, well. She was glad to not be in such a position. Elain didn’t think she cared for that kind of responsibility.
Eventually, even Lord Koschington was silenced by the heat, sweat sliding down the temples of his face. His once onyx hair was threaded with silver and his face lined with age though he was easily a good-looking man. Elain sometimes wondered why he’d never remarried after the passing of his wife though she’d never had the guts to ask him. That was private—personal.
He wasn’t her father, either. He’d cared for her, taken her in when that had never been his obligation and treated her as well as his own daughter.
Elain knew better than to upset him. Though he’d never given her a reason to believe otherwise, some part of her suspected that if she acted outside of his will, he might withdraw his support. Better to be above reproach in all things so he felt his investment was worth it.
Elain had never been more grateful in her life to stumble out of a carriage. At first glance, she saw the women in the capitol wore far fewer layers than they had been out in the country. No laces, no petticoats, no sleeves. Gods above, but Elain was desperate to update her wardrobe with the breezy fabrics and shorter sleeves, even if some part of her felt slightly scandalized by the scooping backs and the clingy bodices.
She noticed the palace itself next. Set atop a rather steep hill and half-carved into a mountain overlooking the southern sea, the sprawling structure was made of ivory and gold, lined with swaying green palms, while purple flowers dotted against the lawn.
Rows of carriages circled to the front of the drive spilling ladies in all manner of garb toward the towering pillars where they were greeted by an elderly man draped in white. Elain and Vassa both dipped into curtseys when it was their turn as Lord Koshington announced, “My daughters, Vassa and Elain.”
Elain’s pulse hammered.
My daughter.
He’d told her she would be introduced as a cousin. Daughter? Blinking rapidly lest she burst into tears, Elain grasped Vassa’s hand so hard she was certain there was no blood flow. Putting aside his kind words and his willingness to pretend she was wholly his, Elain and Vassa stepped into the palace. She’d expected more of the miserable, oppressive heat but somehow it was cool. Not cold, but chilly enough a shiver raced up her spine the moment the air hit her skin.
They were hardly the most anticipated guests—no royals to greet them, no decadent rooms. Lord Koshington had his own while the girls were given a suite of interconnected bedrooms that were larger than anything Elain had ever seen. Draped in cream and gold, her bedroom had the good fortune of overlooking the sea and the gardens just below.
Elain was living in a dream.
She didn’t want to wake up.
Nesta Archeron took the spiraling, stone steps two at a time, navy skirts gathered in one hand to keep her from plummeting right back down. Chilly hair nipped at her cheeks, drawing color that wouldn’t otherwise exist. The air itself stung her eyes, making them seem glassy like she’d been crying.
Nesta Archeron never cried.
Hiding at the top of the tower stood her younger sister Feyre, fingers bright red from the cold. “Have they arrived?” Nesta asked, shouldering beside Feyre to peer out of the little arched window overlooking the whole of the city.
“There,” Feyre said, nodding toward the black and silver banners marching toward the palace gates. Nesta’s eyes were drawn to the man sitting atop a black steed, his matching cape fluttering in the wind. She couldn’t see him well, but every ounce him screamed warrior king.
King Rhysand of the East.They called him the King of Nightmares for his reputation for being ruthless—he didn’t kill those who slipped over his border looking to destabilize his regime. Rhysand had them tortured, broke their minds, and sent them back home.
He was flanked on either side by two men who might have been brothers. The distance obscured their features, though Nesta could make out the broad shoulders and lethal sword hilt of the one on the left and the slimmer build of the one on the right. She supposed the one on the left was the terrifying Lord of Bloodshed, Rhysand’s general, and the other was the torture master himself, Azriel.
For the first time in living memory, the North was welcoming the East into their borders. Nesta wasn’t foolish enough to think it was mere diplomacy, though she’d already promised the prince of the west her home, her throne, and her body, too, if he returned with a way into the south.
But should he fail, she’d do what her father was hoping and she’d marry Rhysand if he could offer her the revenge she was so desperate for.
Nesta’s nightmares were still plagued of Elain, wide-eyed and shivering as she made her way toward Feyre in the dark. She still dreamt of the ricocheting canon that slammed into their ship and how she and Feyre were whisked into a lifeboat. How they’d been kept political prisoners by Helion himself, their lives used to forge the treaty that now bound both nations.
While Elain had never been found, her body still haunting the sea bed.
And Nesta might have been able to forgive the death of her mother. But she’d sworn her life to protecting Elain the very night she’d failed. It was the only way to convince Elain to leave.
I’ll protect you. Please. Come with me.
How she’d failed.
Nesta was old enough to inherit her father’s throne though law dictated she needed a husband and so Nesta had begun a campaign of finding the right man. She didn’t need love—didn’t want love. She wanted vengeance and none of the men at court were equipped to give her that.
Eris Vanserra wanted it nearly as badly as she did, and was just as practical. He’d told her he wasn’t looking for a love match and would look the other way if she chose to take a lover so long as she was discreet about it—and he had no question regarding any future offspring.
Fine.
He would be there now, poking through Helion’s secrets. Looking for weaknesses, mapping out their borders, the walls of Rhodes, and anything else he could glean. Nesta would give him everything, ruining her father’s careful legacy in favor of turning her family into Vanserras, giving her husband total control her territory, her wealth, her armies.
And she’d be the one to drive the blade straight through Helion’s blackened heart.
Rhysand was her backup plan and her father’s first choice. Eris Vanserra was a snake in the grass, untrustworthy and perhaps more damning, a Vanserra. Their family had ruled longer than any other on the continent, with a legacy that predated the oldest written record.
But for all Eris’ faults, Nesta knew vengeance was personal for him. Helion had stolen his mother away in the night, forced her into marriage, and made her his wife. Those kinds of scars lingered, lasted. Rhysand wasn’t that sort of man from what she’d gathered.
He was a shadowed mystery, his motivations unclear. She didn’t know if he even wanted conquest, or if he was merely interested in seeing her home. She’d sent several letters which he’d returned with short, polite answers. Nothing helpful, no hidden message she could read between the lines. Only a gentleman’s words that were utterly banal and uninteresting to her.
Gentleman be damned.
She needed someone bloodthirsty and cruel.
Beside her, Feyre turned her head, chestnut hair whipping against her face. She knew, even if Nesta had never once explicitly said what she planned. Feyre knew, watchful as she was. Whether she approved or not didn’t matter, though Nesta had never known Feyre to be terribly soft-hearted. And she suspected she carried the same weighty guilt over Elain’s death, held the same deep-seated need to see someone pay for it.
“We should be ready to greet them,” Nesta said, well aware Feyre would slip up into the rafters to listen without anyone watching.
“You go, then. I have no interest in any more princes or kings,” she replied, blue eyes flashing with defiance. “Nor do I wish to assist father in selling us off like livestock.”
“Not us. Me. You are safe—and once I’m married, you can pick whatever lovely northern gentleman is hounding your steps. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I don’t want a husband. We don’t need any of these horrible men to get what we want, Nesta. Take the throne, rewrite the laws—”
“The nobility would revolt. They’d throw me in prison or worse, force a marriage on me, wait until I gave them a son, and then stage some timely yet tragic accident. It’s better to have a say in it. To decide for myself and direct it as best I can.”
“None of them are trustworthy and I fear this king—Rhysand— is the worst of them.”
“Worse than Vanserra?” Nesta replied, genuinely curious which Feyre would prefer ruling their home.
Feyre glanced back out the window, eyes narrowing. “He looks like a liar.”
“That’s because he’s a man.”
Feyre blew out a breath, crossing her arms over the rosy pink dress she wore. Neither of them would acknowledge what they were both thinking—Lord Tamlin Rosewood, who’d asked for Feyre’s hand in marriage and then struck her in a fit of frustration over some problem with the dowry. It had been, he claimed, an accident.
He had been expelled from court, banished to the countryside and Feyre locked in her room until the bruising on her face faded. Everyone wanted to pretend it had never happened but to Nesta, it merely highlighted that she needed to be the one to secure their family so Feyre could have a small sliver of peace.
Love was for the lower classes, besides. Perhaps Ferye understood that, now.
“Come on,” Nesta said, hoping she wouldn’t have to go alone. She would, but she would feel less anxiety if she weren’t by herself.
For once, Feyre didn’t put up a fight. Perhaps she recognized Nesta’s own vulnerability. Or maybe she wanted to stare the foreign king down with that lethal gaze of hers that made men wither to dust. Nesta thought it would be something to see them cower before her petite sister rethinking whatever strategy she was certain they must have.
The halls were utterly emptied, leaving only the watchful sentries posted by windows and doors, none of whom were allowed to meet their gaze. She still remembered Elain trying so hard to get the ones at the throne room door to smile and how she’d nearly always succeeded.
Feyre and Nesta didn’t bother.
Their father was waiting, sitting on his icy, iron throne crowned in the blue diamonds that could be found only in the ancient mountains of the Spine, the natural border between their home and Rhysand’s. Nesta wondered if Rhysand would come wearing them, too. Nesta was wearing them around her neck, so heavy it made her spine ache. She’d carefully braided her hair off her face and put on a rather sumptuous, though conservative, gown.
She was beautiful and she knew it. Nesta also knew that men liked a woman who presented herself well—Eris Vanserra had certainly been taken with her presentation, and she assumed Rhysand would be, too. There was no harm in letting him see what he wanted. A wellbred, obedient wife was the expectation.
It wasn’t the reality, but that was a problem for another day.
Nesta and Feyre took their place on either side of their father, staring across the room lined with nobility as the sounds of heavy footsteps began echoing louder and louder. For one moment, something in Nesta quaked with fear, blood icy as though death itself was making its way for her.
It was only a man—a man she didn’t want, didn’t like, and would never love. Rhysand and his right hands were the only ones who came in, strangely unadorned.
He was, objectively, attractive enough. High cheekbones set in a symmetrical face, with eyes so blue they were nearly violet and dark hair styled to look as though the wind had merely tousled it. A silver circlet of stars adorned his brow and one heavy ring was perched on his middle finger while the rest of him was rather bare in comparison to her father.
He looked like a warrior king in his dark black leathers and the heavy cape hanging from his shoulders. He lacked all the pomp and circumstance Eris had brought with him along with the warmth, too. His whole presence exuded ice and instinctively, Nesta took a step back.
His eyes were on her, and then her father as he swept into a bow. Nesta watched, as he came back up, how his gaze slid to Feyre.
And remained there.
“Rhysand,” her father began, his voice sharp and clear. “I hope the journey didn’t give you too much trouble.”
A cat’s smile slid across his features, eyes flicking back to their father. “None at all.”
Nesta didn’t hear her father’s response, buzzing filling her ears as she took a moment to survey the other men who’d come to join their king. The tallest one had removed the heavy helmet he wore, tucking it beneath one muscular arm and oh, Nesta wished he hadn’t. His face, scarred just at the eyebrow and again across full lips, was perhaps the most beautiful face she’d ever laid eyes on. Not classically, of course—for one, he was far too large. The sconce on the wall across the room was, perhaps, as tall as this man was and the muscle packed on his body spoke to an active life, never mind the twin, curved swords looming over his shoulders.
A light layer of dark stubble graced a perfect jaw while strange, whirling black inked tattoos peeked from beneath the neckline of his armor. She wondered what they meant, what their purpose was. Nesta drank in his slightly crooked nose, likely broken in some battle he’d won and the curved scar across his throat that must have been brutal when he’d first received it. He had his large hands clasped in front of him and when she looked up to take in the color of his eyes—hazel, more green than brown—she found he was grinning at her.
He’d caught her looking at him and wanted her to know it. Nesta immediately looked away, unable to hide the damning flush creeping up her own neck.
Nesta swore he’d never catch her looking at him again.
Hands in his pockets, Rhys allowed Archeron to show him around the palace. These visits never failed to bore him. Look at this painting, survey my wealth. Did you see my daughters? Aren’t they lovely?
Usually the answer was covert eyerolls and shared smirks with Cassian and Azriel. Today, though, Rhys felt moody. Unsettled. Disturbed, even, by the younger daughter he hadn’t known existed and hadn’t expected to see.
Rumors swirled about Nesta Archeron and the possible marriage her father was considering with heir apparent Eris Vanserra. His father was on death’s door and a marriage between North and West almost certainly promised a brutal and bloody war.
When Helion had learned, he’d sent word to Rhysand. What is going on in the Spine?
Nothing smart. Rhysand intended to do what he did best—lie. Pretend he had interest in Nesta, jerk her around for a year while he drew up marriage contracts that had to be written and rewritten and written again, wasting her time while Eris inevitably moved on to some nice noble in his own court.
And then Rhys could withdraw, free to continue philandering until his advisors put their foot down. His presence was purely nefarious—two months freezing his balls off in the frigid north while Cassian inspected the army and Azriel devoured secrets.
And yet…and yet.
Rhysand’s mind slipped toward the younger daughter and those eyes. They looked like the same stars that hung over the Illyrian Mountains, silvery and bright and so very alive. Rhys had spent his entire life gazing up at them—he would have recognized them anywhere. Even in the face of that woman, who spared only a passing glance before she fixed her stare on the wall behind him, clearly underwhelmed by their presence.
He wanted to talk to her. He’d seen beautiful women before, though perhaps this was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and that beauty was often exhausted the moment they opened their mouth to speak to him.
Easier said than done. Rhys tried, but Nesta Archeron became the ambassador for the Archerons, silently watching him without ever speaking a word. He found that unnerving all through dinner and wasn’t the only one. The moment he, Azriel, and Cassian were locked away in the suite of rooms, Azriel was the first to speak.
“This place feels like a tomb,” he said, looking around the dark interior.
“Why don’t the princesses speak?” Cassian added, pulling open the heavy velvet curtains blocking out the dim light. “Are they allowed?”
“We should have brought Morrigan,” Azriel grumbled, flopping gracelessly onto a floral sofa.
“She doesn’t deserve the archaic practices of Archeron,” Rhys replied, running a finger over the marble mantle of the fireplace. A thin layer of dust came with it, proving the North rarely hosted guests.
They were far too untrusting.
He supposed he didn’t blame Archeron given the horror of that final invasion. Rhysand couldn’t imagine losing both a wife and a daughter, no matter how, frankly, deserved Rhysand still found the entire thing. After all—Archeron had marched into a neutral city, the third largest in the West, blocked all routes in and out, and burned it entirely to the ground in the matter of a week.
War was hell and there were no heroes. Helion’s father had retaliated, breaking into the capital city and sacking it over the course of a night. In the aftermath, he’d taken the two surviving daughters hostage and only agreed to return them when a peace treaty had been brokered, redefining old borders and returning both stolen land and land long contested.
Oh, but it was all such a mess even a decade later. Those wounds had been left to fester and no matter how Rhysand looked at it, he could see no path forward that didn’t explode into utter disaster. Maybe if Lucien Spell-Cleaver married an Archeron they could avoid war, but he’d heard the prince was far too spoiled and sheltered to be offered up like a political pawn.
And having seen Nesta, he doubted she was willing to subject herself to another hurt at the hands of the West.
“What did you think of Nesta?” Cassian asked, his words carrying a strange ribbon of curiosity. Rhys opened his mouth before closing it again, trying to find words that were both honest without being cruel.
“I doubt a marriage is in our collective futures. Still—maybe she’ll surprise me.”
“With a dagger to your throat,” Azriel commented lightly, causing Cassian to grin at the thought.
“We don’t need to worry about them other than distracting them. Any one of us can accomplish that,” Rhys declared, wondering why the image of Azriel and Feyre annoyed him so much.
“Let's get what we came for and let’s get out of this miserable city.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Azriel murmured, stretching out his legs.
“I can already tell you their military is weak in compared to our own,” Cassian half whispered, his gaze sharp. “I’m going to ask to train with them tomorrow—”
“Trotting out the dumb brute act?” Azriel questioned, a gleam in his eyes.
“My favorite,” Cassian agreed. “I just love swinging a sword and no one ever taught me to read.”
“There must be more of them. Up in the mountains?” Azriel suggested, glancing toward the windows. “Archeron wouldn’t be so stupid to leave his entire kingdom undefended just to protect one city.”
“Helion decimated them a decade ago. Men don’t grow up so quickly,” Rhys reminded them both. “The north has gold, and diamonds from the Spine. Vanserra has manpower and a navy none of us could fend off should he bring it to our shores. It makes sense that Nesta would go to Eris first if she lacked manpower.”
“Then why are we here?” Cassian asked, drumming his fingers against his knee.
“Perhaps Vanserra isn’t sold on the idea?” Rhys suggested, uncertain himself. “Or her father wants to explore all his options? We’re here to prevent another war that would almost certainly drag us into it,” he added, looking at his general and spymaster.
“We’re just waiting out the summer, then?” Azriel questioned.
Rhys nodded. “We can give them all a little taste of what war might mean for them this time.”
Knowing his objective didn’t do much for Rhys’s restless mind, though. While his brothers got ready for the evening, making jokes and generally amused by the entire situation, Rhys slipped from the suite of rooms they shared to walk the halls. It unnerved him how many people were watching under the guise of not watching at all. The sentries and guards never looked at him and he knew his steps would be reported to the king before breakfast.
Getting around undetected was Azriel’s domain. Rhys had never tried, commanded too much attention. He was always the distraction, besides. No one gave Azriel and Cassian much thought, certain he must be the knife in the dark. Slick smiles and double entendre made everyone assume he was far more clever than he was.
Cassian was the dumb brute, Azriel obsessed with cruelty which left Rhys as the one worth watching. He just seemed like a two-faced bastard. And to be fair…he was. But he had help, had chosen his inner circle carefully.
His feet took him to a set of stone steps that spiraled upward into a tower. It was a decent vantage point over the dreary city. Fog hung like a curtain, floating from the mountains that kept the warmer air Velaris received from reaching them. Rhys heard there were years where Ellesmere experienced nothing but rain every single day.
No wonder they liked war so much. What else was there for them?
At the top of this tower, rather than more oppressive fog, sat the younger princess. Rhys hesitated, drinking in the sight of her propped up in that window, one leg dangling precariously over the edge. Her hair was braided over one shoulder and propped on the wall beside her, a bow with a quiver of arrows.
Another sentry, far prettier than any of the others he’d seen. Rhys couldn’t help himself, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.
“Keeping watch?”
She turned her head to look, those starry blue eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t be up here.”
“Says who?”
“Says me,” she replied, causing Rhys to take a step into the candle lit, chilly room.
“Oh, but you seem like such fine company,” he crooned, holding her gaze. “Maybe you could give me a tour—”
“I’ll leave that to Nesta,” Feyre snapped. It was a dismissal given she turned back to looking out at the city and any rational man would have turned around and left.
But Rhys was famously stupid, if his cousin Mor was to be believed so he came closer, desperate for anything to say to her. He was a fool to have any interest in this woman at all, to want a moment of her time when he’d come here to betray her.
“Why are you here?” she asked when Rhys couldn’t think of anything eloquent to say.
“I’m looking for a wife, darling,” he heard himself say. Heart thudding, Rhys recalled telling his advisors not a week earlier he had no interest in a wife and to stop pushing him on it. What absurdity to say it while looking at her, knowing damn well she wasn’t for the likes of him.
He barely knew her at all.
“It's strange how many men suddenly find themselves desperate to be married,” Feyre commented, swinging her legs over the edge of the window before righting herself. “We came of age years ago. Surely you’re not interested in women as old as we are.”
“You think me so shallow? I like a conversation partner—”
“You don’t worry we’ve been ruined?”
Oh, what man touched her he wondered? What man would Rhys have to murder? The urge washed over him stronger than any other emotion he’d felt in recent months. It wasn’t that she had potentially been with another man but the defiant way she asked him if that somehow diminished her worth.
“A lot of things keep me awake at night, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred, taking a measured step toward the princess. “Your activities in the bedroom are not one of them.”
“That’s good, given you’re here to court my sister.”
“I’m here for the princess of the North. You are a princess, are you not?”
“I am a princess, I live in the North,” she agreed, those eyes of hers flashing. And Rhys knew whatever words came out of her mouth next were about to wreck him. His whole body went tight at the prospect.
“And I will never be your wife,” she added with that same, light tone. “I am not interested in a husband, especially one who looks like he lies as easily as he breathes.”
Rhys flashed a smile. He wanted her. What a revelation. “We’ll see,” he replied as she sauntered past him, shouldering her bow with ease.
Feyre only shook her head, eyes rolling upward in her skull. “That wasn’t a challenge. You repulse me.”
Rhys only laughed.
They’d see about that, too.
#im gonna upload on a tues/thurs schedule until its done (i only have 5 chapters written)#elucien#feysand#nessian#DID YOU KNOW IT WAS ME OR WAS I SUBTLE?
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I was doing an AI chat and I made up a character who is called The Queen of the Fallen or The Queen of the Forgotten, and made up a backstory that they are a powerful Queen of a kingdom that is now Modern day Syria, and the reason that history forgot about them is because her kingdom is literally level so nothing about her kingdom show that they existed is the day she died
Let's say the Valkyrie sister Brunhilde knows about her even if her name is part of nothing but a myth by folk songs asking them to fight for humanity and she agreed even if history forgot about them she didn't forget about her people or their descendents and she is very motherly and like any ruler she will give everything in her power to protect them liked she did centuries ago
And she proven her strength as she defeated the goddess of wisdom Athena, due to them being wise but very deadly on how beautiful they are because she is mocking the goddess by wearing dancer liked battle clothes to show off her skin and agility that is like a dance of death
How would Qin Shi Huang, Jack the Ripper, Brunhild, Buddha, and Leonidas, seeing this mysterious queen fight and won?
-Legends tell of a powerful queen, Y/N, who once ruled over what is now modern day Syria. It was a rich and thriving empire, where none were wanting for anything and where everyone was able to live safely.
-You were regarded as a wonderful queen while you were alive, you made sure everyone who lived under your rule was taken care of with plenty of food, clean water and clothes, jobs, and protection.
-However, there were other kings who were envious of your empire, seeing how wealthy it was, not realizing their own greed is what was causing their own empires to fail. To them, you were a threat, as their own subjects were talking about leaving to yours.
-They tried to stamp out your bright light, storming your kingdom- they were not prepared for you to put up a fight.
-You led the front lines of your soldiers yourself, laying waste to those who would dare harm the innocents who were fleeing in fear.
-Despite your valiant effort, you were killed, but not without taking a couple of the other kings with you, and your legacy, your empire, was absorbed into the survivors, and they tried to erase you- erase their embarrassment, from history.
-Your name appeared only a few times in history, accounts from those that you had managed to save, telling your tale, but many began to regard such a wonderful ruler as a myth and you faded into obscurity.
-In Valhalla, things were different, as the history was there, those who were there alongside of you learned of your heroism and leadership, learning of your power as a strong warrior.
-You kept mostly to yourself, living peacefully and quietly, enjoying your time in Valhalla, but a few would seek you out to ask you questions about your time as a ruler and about your fighting style, after they had seen you training.
-It wasn’t until Ragnarok when your name become legendary again, Heimdall speaking of your past, hyping you up of what a great ruler you were, and how the jealousy of greedy men caused your downfall.
-The crowds were cheering loudly, seeing you walk out, wearing your traditional garb, which looked similar to a belly dancer’s attire, holding a sword at your side.
-You spotted a few of the kings who killed you, all of them cheering for you and you were quick to flip them off, calling them on their shit and got those around them turned against these cowardly kings.
-Your opponent was Athena, who looked amused, looking down her nose at you in a mocking way, “I didn’t know whores could be queens.”
-You weren’t bothered, as you heard worse, “At least I took care of those who looked up to me and didn’t abandon them when I grew bored of them.”
-Jaws dropped all around at your sass, not taking any lip- but why should you, you’re a queen, and nobody is going to disrespect you like that.
-The humans were all cheering loudly for you, hyping you up even more while Athena was silently raging at your disrespect, “How dare you?! I am a goddess!!”
-Your free hand came to your hip as you pointed your sword at her, “Then act like one.”
-You were quick to charge, surprising her and she only just barely dodged your blade, sparks flying off her shield and you stunned all, going on the attack, leaving no openings for her to attack you back.
-Many were stunned, both gods and humans, seeing what a fierce warrior you were, proving that you weren’t just a pretty face.
-Athena managed to knock you back with her shield, not injuring you, but did send you head over heels, rolling a bit, but you were quickly back on your feet.
-She was sneering at you, lower eyelid twitching as she lifted her own sword, “This is why humanity is going to fail- there is no respect! If you were truly respectful you would lay down your weapon and allow me to give you a quick death.”
-You shifted into a striking stance, your own smirk taking over your face, “Are you gonna keeping talking shit, or are you going to prove that gods are stronger than humans?”
-Athena let out a shriek of rage before charging at you, fully intent on making you pay.
-You were the winner, a few cuts and bruises but nothing serious, as the crowd was going wild. You had won humanity their salvation, proving to the gods that humanity wasn’t to be underestimated, as humanity was the creation of gods however.
-Zeus honored you as the champion you were, offering you one wish, anything you wanted, nothing was unobtainable.
-You then stunned all once again as your hand came to your hip, “Then I wish for all those who were killed in the previous matches, humans, Valkyries, and gods, to be returned to life in Valhalla.”
-You could have had anything you wanted, yet you chose to bring those back to life, showing your kind nature as a true queen.
-As those who were returned to life looked around in shock, reuniting with their own loved ones, including their opponents, many who considered them friends, Athena approached you, “Why? Why would you bring us all back when we lost?”
-You just gave her a smile, “It’s what a true ruler would do- making sure everyone is happy.”
-Was in awe of your words, seeing the exchange between you and your opponent who was stunned stiff, in complete shock. You were so impressive in your match and your victory was well earned and as your lover, they needed to be there first by your side. Embraced you tightly, swinging you around, making you freeze before you relaxed, hugging them back with a smile as they celebrated your win, praising you. They were unable to look away from you during your match, seeing your skills and your calm nature while fighting, not letting anything get to you. Surprised you by picking you up princess style as you were still injured, and took you to the infirmary so you could be patched up, sitting beside you rather than going to celebrate with everyone else. When you asked why they weren’t celebrating, they just leaning into you, laying their head on your own, “I want to stay with you.” You smiled softly, your eyes closing as you felt relief that humanity was now safe.
-Brunnhilde, Jack, and Buddha
-Could only grin, seeing that you stunned Athena stiff, with only your words. You were one hell of a leader and a warrior, truly a woman of women. He was originally concerned for you, seeing such a delicate looking woman fighting in the last battle, but you were not weak, you were not delicate, you were a queen and acted as such. You didn’t let Athena’s cruel words get to you, you fought with such ferocity, then you brought those who had fallen back to life- you were one hell of a woman. He was quick to approach you, as he should as your lover, and you beamed up at him, leaping into his arms and he hugged you close. He exhaled deeply, happy to have you back in his arms, where you belonged before he swung your legs up into his arms, “Let’s get you patched up then get you a stiff drink- you’ve earned it!” you smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Only if you share one with me.” He grinned down at you, instantly agreeing as you both looked forward to celebrating your win.
-Qin Shi Huang and Leonidas
#record of ragnarok#ror x reader#ror brunhilde#ror buddha#ror jack the ripper#ror leonidas#ror qin shi huang
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