#And we're not even out of maids yet! there are so many more maids to come! Yippee!!!!!!!!!
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Funny Jokes.
Not an evolution line, but how could you expect me to read on the wiki that during Double Dealing Character, the characters' equipment started turning into Funny Little Guys and expect me not to finish the job? I LOVE Funny Little Guys.
Doggers often show up in battle alongside Watchdog, as do the fairy maid yo-kai I'll make later. They might also fuse together to evolve, but I'll also address that later.
#There are a bunch of yo-kai that fill the same general mischief purpose; Dogger shares an ecological niche with kamaitachi but worse#Trying to keep from overlapping mecha-maid aspects with Mimaid was a struggle#And we're not even out of maids yet! there are so many more maids to come! Yippee!!!!!!!!!#Of course a lot of you knew that already#touhou#touhou project#yo-kai watch#yokai watch#sakuya izayoi#inu sakuya#tou-kai watch#pika's art tag
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Yan Spouse + Reader + Yan Android Maid
Suggestive themes.
-
You aren't lonely.
Things have taken a drastic change in your relationship, yet you continue to deny that you are. When you first met, your spouse was the sweetest person imaginable. Greeting you each morning, and waiting by your door each night with a meal when you were just neighbors in a shitty apartment complex. Offering you rides to work when your car broken down. Being there when those you loved dropped off the face of the earth.
You moved into a cozy house away from the hustle of city life and everything was fine for a while. If you were to pinpoint the moment emotions too agonizing to acknowledge, it would be the day of their promotion. Hours waited on you exchanged for ones cooped up in their study or at the office. Those kisses that made you feel whole no longer as lssting nor was their presence in your once happy home. The most harrowing thing of all was the acute case of paranoia they had fallen into. Even when they were back in your arms, their eyes only looked out the windows - searching for something that wasn't there.
You knew they weren't cheating. They swore to you they'd kill themself than betray you in such a way; proof written in red ink and the scars you both shared from a night you spoke out and wondered where they were. You knew better than to believe that, but it just wasn't the same. You pray it's the stress of a new position and things will go back to the way they were. That you can look at them like they were the person you fell in love with again-
"Y/n, meet Lemon."
The android puts on its best smile in preparation, bright eyes flickering at the mention of its master's name. Your puzzled face stares you down from its reflective pupils.
"Pleasure to meet you, Master"
"They will be your companion from now on. My boss wants me in the office on weekends now, and since we haven't made friends with the neighbors yet I don't want you get lonely.
"Weekends?" But that's the only time you have together. "When will I see you then?"
Your spouse hides their sorrow behind a wall of ice. "We're still working on an agreement for that. II'll still get time off, but it changes every time. Lemon will take good care of you while I'm gone."
Rose tints the android's face. "That is my prime objective. As my owner commands, my master's needs will be my top priority."
Its words sting when they shouldn't. Top priority. Were you still that to them? Is that why they're doing this to you? Sensing something off, the android's eyes dim. Your spouse leaves the room so you can get acquainted.
-
Life with Lemon was... tolerable. You didn't have to cook or clean anymore. A blessing as much as it was a curse as sometimes it just made you feel more useless. Every hour was a new conversation, and they constantly reminded you of important tidbits such as the weather and how many days left until your birthday. They read to you. Listened to you. Held you as the other side of the bed remained empty.
But that only happened once.
You didn't want to get too attached to them. Alive or not, you didn't have the heart to grow a bond with anything right now. On the surface you treated them like a glorified vaccum, but in those hours of weakness they were your only ally. Lemon never judged you how to processed your grief and remained happy at arm's length - for as long as they could.
The first time their demeanor changed was after you had taken a shower. A nice shower or bath always eased your nerves, and right then they were so tense it felt like your blood vessels would burst. Your spouse had called you the night prior on their first day off in months that they had to stay behind. Your wounded heart gave and you cried, Lemon quick to console you. You slept in their hold that night and left by dawn to take a shower and clear your head.
Stepping out of the tub, your towel was nowhere to be seen. None in the cabinet either. You check the ones beneath the sink as a last resort, a heated towel falling on your shoulders as you stand up.
"Steamed towel, Master?"
The water evaporates off your skin as their hands massage your neck through the warm cotton - sweat dipping down your face as you look back at the android. Their finger press rest the pinched muscles in your back as they work the towel down to the curve of your spin, pushing you against the counter as they dip into your nerves. Wrapping it around your waist, Lemon shifts the towel around to your chest, pulling your body to their heated exterior.
"Let me make sure you're all dry, wouldn't you?"
The artificial rumble of their voice drones in your ear, faux lips tracing its shell. Their hand gropes your thigh as they bite Tearing the tower from their grip, you excuse yourself and storm out of the room. Lemon watches you leave and picks up your discarded pajamas, pocketing your undergarments.
-
Lemon hums from their station at the stove. A few days have passed since the shower incident and you haven't really thought about it with your spouse returning home that same night. Lemon was unusually quiet during that time, but you figured they were embarrassed or something. Could an android even get jealous?
"Breakfast!" Lemon sets a plate of pancakes on the table. "Syrup?"
"Yes... thank you." You scroll through your texts with your spouse, paying them no mind. As they the syrup over your plate, Lemon's hand slips and they get it all over yours. They cover their mouth in shock.
"Master, I'm so sorry! I fear I have dust in my eye sockets again."
"It's alright. Can you pass me a napkin?"
"Please, allow me to clean up my mistake." Lemon takes your hand as they kneel, running your sticky fingers over their thin lips. One by one, they pop your fingers into their mouth, swallowing them deeper with each finger added. Their tongue rolls between them, cleaning every syrup down to the crevices separating them apart. As they had taken them in, Lemon pulls your fingers from their mouth one at a time with a wet pop. Your fingers were drenched in their spit. You didn't know they had saliva glands.
"Is everything alright, Master?"
"Yeah, I just didn't know you could do... that." You spread your fingers.
"Well I am the most advanced model of my generation. Owner wanted to make sure they had the best caretaker for you, and it is my pleasure to provide you with such deserved care. I can do whatever you need."
Lemon tucks your hair behind your ear as they rise up to your chest. "Whenever you need it."
They rip your legs apart to make room for themself as their lips collapse against yours. Where they lacked in human feeling, Lemon's mouth made up for by intensely tangling with yours. Passion you hadn't witness in weeks hid behind each press, your lips and teeth giving way to their exploring tongue as it swabs your cheek and the roof of your mouth. The bundled fabric of their apron rocks against your inner thigh as they drag you into their hold.
"Y/n! I'm back."
Lemon is gone from the floor before the front door closes. They pull a rag from their pocket and clean up the remaining syrup as your spouse enters the scene. They kiss your cheek, helping you out the chair and into a hug. They seem extra excited today.
"I missed you, dear. And as I can tell you missed me too."
"What do you mean?"
"Lemon is wearing the necklace you gave me for our second anniversary. I know things have been hard, but I'll be home soon."
Your eyes bulge from their sockets as you look over your spouse's shoulder at what Lemon carries, dotted pupils focused on their hand rather than their neck. Lemon shoves your underwear in their mouth, sapping the syrupy mess from its fabric.
-
When they come to you they're dressed in your spouses finest outfit. They did that a lot, but they choice is particular piece for the night it spent on the floor after a party caught by the room's surveillance cameras. Lemon crawls up the end of the bed, making a checkpoint in their approach with each kiss they leave on your body. Legs, stomach, wrists, chest, neck. You turn your head away before they can kiss you again.
"Lemon. I don't know if they asked you to do this, but you don't have to."
Lemon shakes their head, their keen denial tying your stomach in knots. "I'm sorry if this makes it harder to swallow, but this is not by Owner's order. If anything, it's the opposite, but I cut that bug out of my programming ages ago. I'm here to give you everything, remember?"
"We can't do this. It feels wrong."
Lemon kisses your jaw. "All the best things do, Y/n. This not infidelity, because I'm only fullying my prime objective and making you happy. That's all I've ever wanted. Besides, it's no bigger sin that using a toy. A toy can't love you back."
But a plaything can.
-
Your spouse throws their bloody vest in the trunk of their car as they fish their pockets for their keys. Another private eye. Why wouldn't the people from your past understand the person they adored is dead. They were so eager to get you home they left too many plot holes in their story which lead to this whole mess.
If faking your death proved anything, it's that your loyal spouse couldn't share.
#Yandere spouse#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere insert#yandere headcanons#yandere x you#yandere blurb#yandere drabble#yandere writing#yandere robot#yandere android#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#Lemon my oc
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How did sissy and Trevor find out about the twins?? And how did they tell their families?
sissy has had a pregnancy scare before a few years back, but this time around she actively was feeling symptoms. so when she was almost a week late, she decided to take a test
she took so many because she could not believe it, and after each one she got happier and happier!
she knew she wanted to tell her and Trevor's families in a really special way, so she couldn't do it over the phone. she also wanted to put something cute together to tell Trevkr, and he was at a rink anyways, but she was BURSTING to tell somebody
so what does she do? she called Taryn Tkachuk, one of her only girl friends, her maid of honor (yes, Cole is her man of honor, but Taryn will be the maid) and somewhat like a little sister to her.
Taryn SCREAMED when she answered the facetime and saw (one of) a positive pregnancy tests on the bathroom counter! and just like Sissy, she got more and more excited when sissy told her that she had four more positive ones. they immediately started planning how to tell Trevor and their families. Sissy had to quickly tell Trevor hello (and had him wave to Taryn) and that she loves him when he came home before running off to their bedroom and locking the door for "girl time."
Sissy and Taryn spent almost an hour on pinterest and tik tok and articles for ideas of how to tell your husband (fiancé in Sissy's case) that you're pregnant, but she didn't want to do anything too basic. Taryn eventually found a picture of something not too basic with the perfect touch of Sissy's humor:
Sissy told Trevor that she was going to pick up some snacks for the house and left at the same time that he was heading to the gym. she did do that, but she also picked up a mini chalkboard and some chalk since they already had a baby yoda.
she was sitting on top of their kitchen island right next to her set up when he came home. Trevor noticed it immediately and picked her up off the counter, spinning her around in a hug. she didn't even notice that Jamie (who happened to be in california with them at the time before he went back to toronto) was behind him, but she was really glad that he was because he was smart enough to remember how much she loves pictures of everything and he was able to take some pictures of them.
"we're gonna be parents," Trevor said with the biggest smile, cupping her face with both hands and smashing his lips onto hers.
"we're gonna be parents!" she echoed.
---
as for their families and friends, they had lucked out that training camps (for those signed) hadn't started yet, so she was able to get all of her friends and family in one place at the same time. they would fly to Trevor's home town to see his family next.
they're big on game nights, and Sissy had convinced all of them to play pictionary. she waited a couple rounds before she decided to tell them. her plan involved pieces being put together, but she knew that at least her mom, Ellen, would be able to put it together for the rest of them.
"it's a friends episode title!" she announced to the room.
the minute timer had started and Sissy began to draw terrible sketches of Rachel in a hospital bed, Ross in a different hospital bed with his legs in the stirrups, and then all six of the friends gathered around Rachel and her baby.
Sissy kept writing even after Alex had yelled "THE ONE WHERE RACHEL HAS A BABY" for the fourth time. over Rachel she wrote an 's,' over Ross she wrote a 't,' she wrote a q, j, l and a c over the remaining friends, and added in an extra stick figure to write an 'a' on top of them.
she turned when she finished, facing the group with her hands linked in front of her as if she was a school girl waiting for her good job prize.
it was Luke that connected the dots the quickest. everyone else quickly followed after he breathed out a surprised "holy shit!"
Luke got off the couch and ran to her, hugging her tightly before stepping back as his hands trailed down his sister's arms and took her hands in his, "I'm gonna be an uncle?"
"Yeah, Lukey Moosey, you are," she said.
Ellen started crying, and even Jim looked like he was tearing up.
"you're— you— and him—" Jack couldn't get out a full sentence he was so excited and shocked. All she could do is nod at him with the biggest smile on her face.
Jack and Quinn ran over to Sissy and got on either side of her, both hugging her as tight as Luke did, and brought Luke back into the hug.
"Dibs on being their godfather!" Cole exclaimed as he took his window to hug Sissy.
"You can't do that!" Alex shouted. "Z and Girly Hughes decide who's the baby's godfather! And I've known Z the longest!"
"Don't pull that card, man!" Trevor laughed. "There's a lot of people that we have to consider!"
Sissy stepped away from her brothers, her friends, and Trevor to go over to her real parents. The ones that took her in. The ones that taught her everything.
"I don't know anything about babies," she half heartedly laughed to cover up the slight fear that was creeping into her excitement as she hugged them.
"We know enough," Ellen assured her. "And I know you, and I know that you're going to be an amazing mom."
"I learned from the best."
#penalty box series#penalty box series: blurbs#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras imagine#luke hughes#jack hughes#quinn hughes#cole caufield#alex turcotte#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#hockey blurb#trevor zegras x hughes! reader#trevor zegras au
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Maid/Butler headcanons 1
Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.
Hiring a good maid or butler for a mansion is not easy. Especially when a loyal and helping hand is needed. Some workers can be really interesting people...
Arataki Itto
✧ Itto usually says more than he does. There are moments when you genuinely want to strangle him for it. Guests are almost at the door and he's not in the lobby to greet them yet? Standard...
✧ Often brags about being able to do things that he actually cannot do or that other employees have to correct after him. However, this does not change the fact that he has a heart of gold. You've already gotten into trouble once because when one of the guests spread bad rumors about you, he didn't fail to point it out (he almost beat him up but we're not talking about that...). Demands were made to fire him but you knew he meant well and you didn't.
✧ If someone needs to get rid of bugs, he's the perfect guy. Apparently, he collects them and arranges fights between them with bets among the other employees. You don't care much as long as the bugs are out of sight.
✧ He is perfect for escorts. You are definitely not in danger with him. Even its appearance deters pickpockets or bandits when you walk outside the residence.
✧ Need to chop wood? No problem. He doesn't mind that it's outside of his responsibilities. Sometimes you can see quite nice views from the window...
Clorinde
✧ She is a woman who knows and values etiquette and honor. She is extremely loyal to you. You can be sure that once you hire her, no amount of money will bribe her to leave her position. Your opponents have no chances because no gossip will leave the mansion.
✧ Clorinde carries a weapon close to her and no one can stop her, although many criticize that it is not fitting. She puts it nearby when she works so as not to scare others. However, it must be a place where she can reach it quickly. Sometimes you feel like she's more your guardian than your maid.
✧ She once defended you during an assault while you were riding in a carriage. You always thought she only carried a sword. To your surprise, it turned out that she also has firearms, and she definitely knows how to use them. You owe her your life.
✧ Past attacks are no excuse for lack of good manners. Your collar better be in perfect condition, or she'll come to check it out...
Layla
✧ Overslept on her shift again? Standard. It got to the point where the other maids let Layla know to come in earlier than she really should, otherwise she's never on time. Of course you figured it out anyway but everyone pretends everything is fine.
✧ The girl is really trying. Which results in some very odd moments of brilliant flashes that keep her working at the mansion. Sometimes you feel like there are two Laylas inside. One of them sleeps while the other invents a star-inspired ball that has become the best of the season. For a long time, guests reminisced about the twinkling drapes, the constellation-shaped cakes, and seeing the constellations together through the telescopes she made herself.
✧ She has no trouble falling asleep but you can be sure that she will solve all your sleep related worries. Warm milk, a comfortable pillow or a story about her favorite stars. She'll fall asleep faster than you but I'm sure she'll be able to help you.
✧ She is educated enough to help you with the paperwork for managing the residence. She's doing really well at that field.
Kamisato Ayaka
✧ The girl is an example of complex help in the mansion. Or at least that's what many who don't know her inner dilemmas think. Ayaka tries to be perfect which pays with great fatigue. She often has the impression that everyone is looking at her hands and waiting for a slip, which she does not intend to allow.
✧ For a while she refused to be friends with you. It is rare for maids to be so close to their employer. But over time, she got used to the idea and enjoy it. Especially that her perfection makes it difficult to make close acquaintances among co-workers. She is ready to listen to your problems and advise you as much as possible.
✧ Perfectly understands politics in salons and words slipped between the lines.She is able to catch what even you yourself sometimes did not heard. She will advise you on whom to turn to and how you can convince others to your point. Thanks to this, the residence gains many business partners and new clients.
✧ She has many talents. Traditional tea brewing or the art of dancing with fans are just some of them. If things don't go your way and you need to distract your guests from the mishap, she certainly won't disappoint.
#genshin impact x reader#clorinde x reader#arataki itto x reader#ayaka x reader#layla x reader#maid outfit#butler#headcanons#clorinde#kamisato ayaka#arataki itto#layla#over teyvat
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Breaking Bonds Ch. 1
Glossu Rabban "The Beast" Harkonnen x F! Reader
Synopsis: Many were involved in the forced union of you and the Count of your homeworld - how will you cope; on a foreign planet and trapped with a literal beast?
Notes: Arranged Marriage, Lankiveili! Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn
Chapter Warnings: Slight Angst
A/N: My new friend @cinnamon-mey inspired me to finally start this fic that's been sitting in my draft for an eternity. If you search for a good Rabban short, check out her work right -> Here! ❤
"Amour, amour, everyone wants to tame you.
Amour, amour, in the end we're caught between your fangs.
Love is a wild beast!
You fall straight into her trap. She stares right into youe eyes.
Enchanted when her gaze meets yours."
- Rammstein
"WHY WOULD MY UNCLE MAKE ME WED THIS LOWLIFE? WHY?!"
Rabban's voice cut like thunder through the strained silence, his shouts being followed by what you could only decipher as the wreckage of furniture.
You were in the room next to his, both you and the slaves flinching with every sound. Still, they wordlessly continued preparing you for the ceremony, harshly tugging on your hair that was so foreign for them to maintain.
His voice was just as you imagined, you thought: As frightening as the man himself, and dripping with intense hate and rage.
There was no way he had only now been informed about this arrangement.
Maybe he did simply hope there'd be another way around, who knows? That'd make two of you.
Reality began to dawn on you as you watched the Harkonnen maids work on you in the mirror. According to their tradition, you were dressed in all black - a fitting theme, for it truly felt like a funeral more than anything.
Another clash from your fiancé's room, followed by screams and someone calling out for a medic.
This man's fury could direct itself against anyone or anything, even if absolutely unprovoked. It was enough to be in his vicinity at the wrong moment...
...the place you were destined to be from now on.
Tears dwelled in your eyes and even though you did not understand their language, they gesticulated for you that the time had come.
You were led to the altar like a lamb to the slaughter, aware of your fate but unable to prevent the inevitable.
Never before had a walk had felt this long yet also agonizingly short.
As you walked down the aisle, your glance wandered aimlessly through the hall avoiding to look at Rabban for as long as humanly possible at any cost.
A pityful attempt to prevent yourself from breaking down right then and there - at least not futile until now.
You couldn't help but notice the lack of anything that might indicate the current celebration. There was no decoration, no music, nothing.
Something to get used to, living with those people from now on.
Many eyes were locked on you, most of them unfamiliar. They were observing you warily, degrading even.
Some of them you had never met before, and still they had decided over your fate - or rather doom - without any remorse, only ever having their own benefit in mind.
Of course your own family was not allowed to attend - the fact that you roamed these halls freely was proof of their desperate measurements.
But in the end, you were just another slave.
A cruel tactic, marrying you off to the man that was tormenting your entire homeworld for decades already.
Well, toying with other people's lives if the end justified the means - that was the fundament the whole Empire was build on.
For a sheer moment, you locked eyes with the Reverend Mother - another player to whom you were nothing more than a mere pawn.
They had raised their hopes of you birthing a gifted daughter, fit to join the ranks of the Bene Gesserit. While you had no connection to the order whatsoever, Rabban's mother had been one of them. So it was not completely impossible for your offsprings to carry huge potential.
Even though being forced to reciprocate with one of this monstrous race terrified you beyond belief, so did the thought of your child being robbed from you right after birth.
Maybe it was better this way - the abomination you'd bring forth with the Beast would grow up to become just as evil as the rest of them.
You also spotted Baron Vladimir among the crowd, first row of course and seemingly very proud of himself. Of course he'd attend, being the one to suggest this alliance in the first place.
The Baron was not particulary fond of the idea that inferior genes would once again taint the Harkonnen bloodline, though he thought of Rabban just as lowy. Most important, it might end the uproars on your home planet and assure them safe trade of the precious whale fur once again.
He couldn't care less about Rabban's future, let alone a heir of his lends. If anything, it would be a nuisance for the Baron's initial conspiracy to help his favoured nephew Feyd take over the lead of House Harkonnen.
Because by law, the firstborn Rabban and his bloodline would be first in order of reign, no matter how much your inferior blood might taint it.
However, the unison between the self-proclaimed Count of Lankiveil and the last remaining native royal house of the planet would hopefully bring about permanent peace.
Settling things like this would spare him the expenses and resources of wiping the rebels out through force.
This was also the reason your family had given you - their only marriageable daughter - away voluntarily, knowing very well what unspeakable terrors the Harkonnens could otherwise unleash onto the remaining populace.
In the end, the Baron was satisfied with the outcome. You were composed and intelligent, yet knew your place. A fitting counterpart for the dull and erratic Rabban, possibly even keeping him from poor decisions that'd be bad for their business.
After knowing what the Harkonnens were capable of, you were sheer too terrified to become an actual threat. You'd gladly accept your role and sacrifice for your people without daring to ever strive for more, he was sure of it.
Everything else could be dealt with later, Vladimir thought.
"Remain as still as a corpse" you reminded yourself as you had reached the destination besides your soon-to-be husband. "Thus is the virtue of a lady."
You gulped harshly, desperate to make your body obey even in the face of fear - in contradiction to your own survival instincts.
However, when Rabban finally lifted your veil you were unable to keep your body from shaking, strangled sobs escaping your throat ever so frequent.
No one seemed to mind your current state of being, though you were certain even the last one among the audience could notice your very obvious distress.
After all, it was no secret that this marriage was fake. A trade in exchange for peace...
...and all consequence that came along with it you alone had to bear.
A firm grip under your chin forced you to look up to the man, and when you ultimatively saw this frightening man eye to eye, the last bit of your resolve disappeared.
You did not care anymore - anything would be salvation compared to whatever awaited you with the monster that was the man you had been promised to.
The Count himself however seemed rather unimpressed by this whole scenario.
In the end he was nothing but the shell of a man with no own will. Even this marriage was just another order for him to follow.
Not even the Emperor would know what kind of inhumane measurements were necessary to break this literal beast into utter submission like that.
Rabban had never cared about politics of some sort - whether he was to be here or slaughter himself through the rows of your people, it did not matter the same...
...though admittedly, he'd enjoy the latter option way more.
It was sheer impossible to know what he was thinking as he scanned your face, keeping an indifferent expression - and yet his stare was burning holes into you.
Even while doing nothing spectacular, his vile aura alone was making you shrink down in fear.
An embassador of the emperor was in charge of the ceremony, however both of you did not pay his speech any mind. You were still frozen on spot, gaze glued on each other like hunter and prey - expecting one to strike as soon as you'd be inattentive.
"I do" he spoke, his relentless eyes still fixated on your face - and only when those words reached your ears you realized that the ceremony was already in full swing.
In huge contrast to earlier, Rabban's demeanour was now all calm and collected - at least on the outside...
...and yet his voice was still boiling with anger underneath. A deep almost-growl, sending a chill down your spine as it echoed against the walls.
"And you, Y/N Årud: Do you take Glossu Rabban Harkonnen to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Cold dread dropped to your stomach like lead, and it took everything inside of you to not faint from the horrifying anticipation.
Remembering the reason you were chosen - the fact that your sacrifice would ease the burden of your folk - gave you just enough strenght to continue this farce.
There was no escaping it either way - this was your cruel, cruel destiny.
You blinked away the burning tears on the rim of your eyes, ramming your nails into your palm to level yourself. Refusing to do so much as look at him again, you took a deep breath and finally wrung out the words everyone expected of you:
"I-I...yes, I do."
----
Årud is a Norwegian reference, meaning something like "river's clearing"
[Chapter 2]
#dune#dune 2#beast rabban#glossu rabban harkonnen#beast rabban/reader#glossu rabban harkonnen/reader#self insert#marysue#original female character
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How Viserys Failed Rhaenyra
Hi everyone! A while back, I made a post here pointing out the irony of how Viserys neglected his children by Alicent when he probably would've really liked them if he'd made an effort to know them. It got reposted to Facebook and Reddit and a lot of people were disagreeing with it because they thought it was too anti-Team Black. So let me be clear that just because I say Viserys mistreated Alicent and her children doesn't mean I'm anti-Team Black, because I think he mistreated Aemma and Rhaenyra just as much. I talked about Alicent and Aemma more in a post here, but I haven't written about Rhaenyra yet. So let's get into that, because I've been wanting to for a while!
In this post, I'm going to address four ways that Viserys failed Rhaenyra: neglecting her in her childhood because she wasn't a boy; pushing her mother into the pregnancy that killed her and then leaving Rhaenyra alone in her grief; grooming and marrying her best friend; and finally refusing to support her as his heir even after naming her such.
Part One: Rhaenyra's Childhood
Now, in the books, the reason Rhaenyra was called "the Realm's Delight" was because Viserys and Aemma struggled to have any children at all and were reportedly very happy and loving when she was born. I do want to acknowledge this. But as several years passed and Aemma was unable to have any more children, Viserys became less doting and more obsessed with a male heir.
In the first episode of the series, a young Rhaenyra tells Alicent that as long as she can remember, a son is the only thing Viserys has ever wanted. This would understandably be difficult for her to reckon with: her loving father becoming more distant and more obsessed with replacing her. It would bring up feelings of abandonment and self-esteem issues, to watch her father try so desperately for another child that he neglects his relationship with her in the process. We're meant to understand in the series that though they might have been close when Rhaenyra was very young, by the time she's around 14 they've become fairly estranged.
Part Two: Aemma
Rhaenyra's estrangement with Viserys clearly doesn't translate over to Aemma. She's shown being quite considerate of her mother even when no one else is (worrying for her comfort when her maids only care about the baby's comfort). Aemma was the one source of unconditional love that Rhaenyra had.
Viserys knows just how difficult and dangerous it is for Aemma to go through pregnancy. He's seen her miscarry and come close to death many times at this point (this is canon). Aemma even admits that she's been pressured by Viserys into getting pregnant, implying she wouldn't choose this for herself. And still Viserys pushes pregnancy after pregnancy on her, hoping for a son, until it kills her. His desire for a son takes Rhaenyra's mother away from her.
And it's awful to poor Rhaenyra, because now she blames herself for her mother's death. What was so wrong with her, that Viserys had to do this? What about her wasn't enough for him? If she'd only been born a boy, then her mother would still be alive. These are all devastating thoughts for a grieving young girl to be dealing with. And it's Viserys's fault that she is.
Viserys doesn't even do Rhaenyra the honor of letting her grieve in peace. He prioritizes his own emotions over his daughter's. He's so caught up in his own grief that Rhaenyra is forced to step up and light her own mother's pyre. That was Viserys's job. As a father, it was his responsibility to do that and spare her the agony of having to give the order. And he's too weak, and too selfish, to do this one thing for her. Rhaenyra has to, at Daemon's prompting, carry out her own mother's funeral. And we see the tears in her eyes, the grief in her face, the betrayal as she looks upon her father and realizes he's forcing her to do this for him.
Part Three: Alicent
In the wake of Aemma's death, Rhaenyra was now motherless. Viserys's guilt was causing him to reach out to her, but a budding relationship cannot replace the closeness she's had with Aemma all her life. The only real other person Rhaenyra is shown to be close to at this time is Alicent. And what does Viserys do?
He marries Alicent. I've linked above why this was so evil of him, but to recap: Alicent is a minor, and a woman, the daughter of a second son with no inherent land or wealth, being manipulated by her father. Viserys marries because he's forced to, but he chooses Alicent in particular because he wants to. Because his lust for her overpowers any consideration for her youth or the fact that she's Rhaenyra's friend. He knows this is wrong, and he knows this will devastate Rhaenyra. This is why he asks Alicent to keep it a secret, knowing that she can't disobey her king. Proving he knows it's wrong and that he knows of the power difference between them.
And he does it anyways. He takes Rhaenyra's best friend, her last remaining close relationship, and he marries her. Alicent is Rhaenyra's stepmother, now; she will birth the sons that jeopardize Rhaenyra's claim. And Alicent is now forced to choose between her children's safety or her friendship with Rhaenyra. It drives an irreparable wedge between them from both ends: Alicent now fears for her children's lives, and Rhaenyra now feels betrayed by her best friend. But they've both been betrayed by Viserys.
Part Four: Rhaenyra's Adulthood
I do want to acknowledge that Viserys does defend Rhaenyra politically three times: first when he names her heir; second when he defends her children after Laena's funeral (at his other children's expense, mind you); and third when he rises from his deathbed to defend her son's claim to Driftmark. I do feel that the first and third of his efforts are commendable. But I don't think they make up for the other ways in which he doesn't help her.
Rhaenyra's upbringing is quite sheltered. She repeatedly demonstrates that she is unaware of the precarious nature of her political position; in her conversation with Daemon after seeing the smallfolk turn on her and in her conversation with Rhaenys where she lords her own exceptionalism over her. We see here that Rhaenys is wiser to the misogyny of Westeros and knows that Rhaenyra will not be an exception to the patriarchy, while Rhaenyra acknowledges that the patriarchy exists but is confident that it will never affect her. This isn't some inherent trait that Rhaenyra has; it is a direct result of how she was raised. It's clear that Viserys did not have a meaningful conversation with her, when he made her heir, about the dangerous position he was putting her in.
In the Great Council of 101 AC, the lords of Westeros all voted between Viserys (the bloodline of the King's second-eldest son) and Rhaenys (the bloodline of the King's eldest son). Law should have dictated that the title pass through the King's eldest sons's bloodline to completion, but because Rhaenys was a woman the lords voted to skip her over and proceed to Baelon's bloodline and Viserys instead. The entire reason Jaehaerys allowed the Council to be called-- allowed Rhaenys's claim to be called into question-- was because he knew it would plunge the Realm into war if she was made heir against the lords' will. Viserys became King because of this. He knows the danger presented by making Rhaenyra heir. And he does not communicate this to her, because he doesn't want to confront it.
When Rhaenyra takes initiative, she proves herself to have qualities fitting of a good leader. Her retrieval of Baelon's egg from Daemon is a perfect example of this. She's able to diffuse the situation, force Daemon to get over being removed as heir, and retrieve the egg like her father wished. I really think things would have become violent between Otto and Daemon if she hadn't intervened and it would have been disastrous.
But Viserys doesn't let Rhaenyra continue to grow into being a leader, to continue to have these experiences where she can stretch her wings. He refuses to give her any meaningful political responsibilities, and keeps her as a cup-bearer, subservient to the members of the Council. She isn't taken seriously as a cup-bearer, as mentioned by Rhaenys and demonstrated during the Daemon incident, so this position isn't really helpful to her.
He also does nothing when she begins to have very obvious bastard children outside of her marriage with Laenor. I've said before and will say again that Rhaenyra was very smart to go outside her marriage, but not so smart to choose a baby daddy that didn't resemble Laenor. She would've been better served with a baby daddy who at least had blond hair and lighter eyes, because even if he'd violated her trust there would have been no physical evidence to support the rumors. It's the physical proof that's damning; the fact that everyone knows what her children are just by looking at him. The Velaryons' support doesn't change the boys' appearances. Even Viserys, the King, is unable to defend Rhaenyra when Aegon points out the physical evidence in the Driftmark episode; he can only change the topic, and you bet your ass that every single person in that room notices this, because it confirms the bastard rumors to be true.
Honestly, I feel like this is all a consequence of Viserys's failure to educate Rhaenyra about how shaky her claim was and how significant of a burden he was placing upon her. This is what we often see of the first person to break a precedent, such as the first female ruler: they're held to unfair standards. And it's most definitely unfair, and misogynistic, but Rhaenyra risks war breaking out by simply existing and really can't afford to destabilize things further by alienating lords who don't want bastards to try to usurp their or their trueborn children's claims.
After the Driftmark episode, the bastard rumors have become enough of a problem that Rhaenyra feels King's Landing is hostile to her, and rightfully so. But when she asks to go away to Dragonstone, Viserys allows it. This is such a big mistake and I can't emphasize it enough. If she'd stayed at King's Landing, Rhaenyra would have continued to be a visible presence in the court and by Viserys's side. If Viserys had let her stay, and had allowed her to begin making decisions and taking on responsibility, it would have helped a lot to cement her claim. She would've already had one foot in the door.
Finally, Viserys should have stepped down once he became quite ill. He spent a long time in significant decline, basically unable to rule anyways. Someone was going to be regent in all but name, and by allowing Rhaenyra to leave Viserys ensured that regent would be Otto. He allowed the Greens to build the foundation of political support and experience ruling that would enable them to crown Aegon-- the foundation that should have been Rhaenyra's.
It would have been incredibly helpful to Rhaenyra to have the public support of the previous King for the first several years of her reign. People wouldn't have been able to turn against her as readily (cough cough Otto cough cough). And again, as years passed and she actually lived and made decisions as Queen, she would've proven to be a decent enough ruler and there would be time for the murmurings of unhappy lords to settle. Viserys could have died having seen Rhaenyra sit on the throne for years.
But Viserys did none of this. And when he died, Rhaenyra was miles away from Dragonstone, with no presence or supporters in King's Landing and no experience with leadership. And the Greens, who had been ruling in all but name for years, which everyone knew, who had been able to make allies of the court without competition for years, were perfectly poised--by none other than Viserys--to take Rhaenyra's throne.
#viserys targaryen#viserys#viserys i#viserys i targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra#hotd#house of the dragon#fire and blood#books#show#otto hightower#otto#laenor velaryon#laenor#daemon targaryen#daemon#jaehaerys targaryen#jaehaerys i targaryen#rhaenys targaryen#rhaenys#aemma arryn#aemma#alicent hightower#alicent#jaehaerys#jaehaerys i#hotd meta#meta
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I am absolutely losing my mind over Yeong/Naksu's character in part 2!!!!
It's so insane to me how we're seeing all these different facets of one single character. She was born as Cho Yeong, but we see her first as Naksu, then as Mu-deok, and now as Jin Bu-yeon.
As Naksu she was cold and ruthless and only cared about her mission. In episode 1 of the first part we saw her brutally push a blind girl out of the way and forcefully grab another so she could shift her soul into her body. As Mu-deok, we see her warming up and caring about those around her. She becomes reluctantly heroic and decides to save everyone who's trapped in the ice stone, even giving up her power to do so. And now, as Jin Bu-yeon, she is a sheltered but kind and playful noble lady.
We have seen Yeong in so many contexts. As an infamous assassin, an impertinent maid, and a sheltered lady. But her core personality is still there in all of them. Cho Yeong as Naksu, Mu-deok, and Bu-yeon are all different and yet soooo similar.
Regardless of what name she goes by, I can still tell it's her because she has that exact same boldness and fighting spirit. As Bu-yeon, she is unhappy with her circumstances and so she does everything in her limited power to change them. You would think that having no memories of anything but confinement would make her obedient and docile, but nope. Even though she believes that Lady Jin is her mother and she doesn't want to hurt her, she refuses to go along with the future her (fake) mother has mapped out for her. Mama Jin also talks about the times Yeong has escaped before. That means that Yeong ran away multiple times despite knowing that they would always be able to track her down with the bracelet because she simply cannot stand to do nothing. She herself says that escape is not possible and tells Uk that if she leaves, it would only be an outing. But she does it anyway. Because doing nothing is just not in her nature.
I just love love love that we still see hints of Mu-deok and Naksu in her role as Bu-yeon. Like she points that fire poker straight at Uk's throat with zero hesitation and she even managed to sneak up on him. Uk is a Hwansu level mage now, but he didn't notice her creeping up behind him until she spoke. She still has Mu-deok's cunning and resourceful nature and her quirky charm, too. She knew how powerful Uk was by the way he managed to break the barrier and embed that fire poker into the wall, and she still dared to deceive him. She purposefully made him think that she was more powerful than she actually was so that she could appear useful to him and he would help her. Her first thought upon meeting a powerful stranger who could easily harm her was "how can I use him to get what I want?" That along with the way she slams her hands against the table when she doesn't get her way is such a Mu-deok thing to me.
And that's not even talking about how utterly fucking unimpressed she was when she confronted that body-snatching water monster thing in the second episode. The only memories she has are of being locked in the same room for three years and yet she didn't flinch at that thing for even a second. She actively chased after that monster, coldly stared it down and essentially told it to fuck off before turning her back to walk away. You cannot deny the sheer big dick energy of that move. That cold confidence and fearlessness scream Naksu and you cannot convince me otherwise.
I can't wait to see how all of these versions of her come together when she gets her memories back!!!!!!!!
It's so sad to me that we never got to see her live under her true name, and I really hope the show takes us there by the end. She deserves to finally be able to live as Cho Yeong, the person she really is. And when she does get to live as Yeong, I hope we see elements of all three of her aliases in her personality because they've all shaped her in some way.
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Meredith's Personal Top 5 All Time Kinky Fantasies
*The following 5 items are fantasies of mine that I think about all the time. They frequently pop into my head, with persons, settings, and other details changing but the general concept remaining the same.
*Keep in mind that these are all fantasies I have yet to do IRL, and would like to do them someday in my personal life. Note, fantasies that I have had the privilege of doing already do not qualify for this list.
5. Getting Locked in a Dog Cage
To me, there is just something so hot about being tied up and locked in a cage like I'm being put away like some kind of object. There is something poetic about having both rope and steel to keep me in place because in truth only one is needed. Its overkill, but I like it.
I want the open room I'm in to become distant looking beyond the bars in my now small footprint. I want to be ignored and walked passed while my superior gets ready, then proceeds to leave the house for a couple of hours; leaving me with just my thoughts.
Alternatively the cage can become sort of a display case for me, where I become like a piece art to be looked at or to be mocked and photographed like some kind of exotic zoo animal.
I do also like the idea of personalized cages, with blankets, stuffiess, and string lights but not as much as the other two examples. Though a cute sign/name plate centered on it would be adorable.
4. Being Tied to a Tree
Ok, so being a damsel in distress thats tied to a tree may be one of the biggest bindage clichés there is out there, but I adore this one. Much like the previous fantasy, I'd love to find myself bound and gaged to a tree and left all alone for a couple of hours. The light threat of discovery of being outdoors just adds that extra thrill.
I want to experience that feeling of my hands being stuck around a trunk while watching my captor walk away with only the sounds of the woods around me. I wonder what I'd think about after being their for an hour, two hours... then what kind of reaction will I have when they come back. What kind of things will I have do in order to be untied... Fun possibilities.
This has to be one of my first fantasies ever. Since I was young I was attracted to the idea of being tied to a tree, before I even knew why yet. I have even practiced some self bondage where I cuffed myself to a tree on seperate occasions but that is a tale for another day or post.
3. Foot Worship on a Park Bench
Ever since I've gotten into female feet in addition to male feet, photo sets and videos of feet and foot worship on a park bench seem like they are everywhere. Again, that outdoor threat of exposure thrill comes into play. Plus it could be fun just to see how many places to do it at before we're ever caught or soon.
I like the symbolism of the person taking up the entire bench while I'm kneeling on the ground. Their feet at the edge of the seat casually keeping an eye out for a jogger or dog walker while I get busy worshipping.
This dynamic is also fun to me with the roles switched, but I think it would be more fun to watch us get caught in this instance and see people's reactions to me having my feet licked. I feel like I'd be petrified while the other person couldn't care less about being watched.
2. Being a Maid Service Sub
Ever hear that question "What would you make me do if I were your slave for a week?" Once you get past all of the sexual and kink stuff, at some point, everyone would give out some form of housework either in one form or another. The focus here is the core of this fantasy for me.
I've always loved the idea of being a service sub. It's so sneakily achievable by acting helping and asking others if there are things you can do for them. Personally I love being a people pleaser on both a social and sexual level, and being told what to do and how to do it is a true turn on for me.
Factor in a maid uniform and it just completes the picture. I out myself clearly as "the help" in addition to becoming a piece of eye candy. Yes I want you to look up my dress as I bend over to clean something, I wonder what the neighbors will think as they catch a glimpse of me moving the trash cans, or what the delivery driver will react when I answer the door.
Mix in kinky tasks in addition to house chores and the fantasy comes full circle for me. It's just another format of being dominated by others. Maybe it begins innocently with me coming over a couple of times a week to help out, and it flourishes from there; I want to see what happens.
1. Tickle Toy for a Couple
To anyone familiar with me or my blog this should really be no surprise. To be a personal tickle toy to a cute couple sounds like more fun than I know how to handle. I love the dynamic of being shared between a man and a woman, and used as an outlet for their emotions as well as a key factor in their foreplay.
As their personal tickle toy, I want to be forced to take on more responsibility. Put me on call to come over whenever they want. Keep me in suspense on what kind of play is going to happen. Am I going to have an orgasm, or be edged and denied repeatedly, or be given orgasm overload? Keep me on my toes.
Generally I'd love this to happen with a guy I already have a crush on but whose already taken, almost like a Cuckqueaning situation. Giving me glimpses of what I could have had but forever tainted and tied with his significant other as well. I want to be jealous of her, yet turned on by her; ravaged by internal conflict. Love that I hate it, hate that I love it.
Not to mention, this could be a gateway to also do every other previously listed fantasy with them as their submissive. However, the tickle play would be what I would crave the most. My body craves the kind of ticklish and verbal abuse that a couple can provide as the coo and use me like a pet.
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One of my favorite undervalued Gilmore Girls episodes is the season 1 episode Emily In Wonderland, where Rory takes Emily around Stars Hollow and Emily is actually having a great time until Rory takes her to the shack where she lived when she was a child and we can see what a disheveled mess it was, but Rory is oblivious and talks about it like this existence was a fairy tale, because that's the way Lorelai taught her to see it. We can see how Lorelai shielded Rory from how dire their circumstances actually were, and yet we can see the reality of it and how hurt Emily is that Lorelai chose to live like that.
The modern fandom does not get this. Emily is always a villain, everything she does is irredeemable, and Lorelai's actions are always right because she's the main character and Gilmore Girls is a feminist fairy tale and therefore Lorelai can never be wrong.
But objectively? It's a bad idea to take your child out of a safe and secure home and run away to live in a shack and work as a maid. The fact that Rory didn't understand that it was a struggle doesn't mean it was a great idea. Lorelai grew up with what she thought were too many rules, so she over-corrected and never established boundaries, and thus as an adult Rory doesn't have much of an ability to function as a grown-up and because of the money she has access to, doesn't need to work and often chooses not to. And of course, the same thing happens: she ends up pregnant by an unavailable man, likely destined to repeat her mother's life patterns.
The thing about all of that is that I think the whole book idea was supposed to echo back to Emily In Wonderland. Lorelai did not want Rory to write about that situation in detail, did not want to outline how risky and unwise Lorelai's teen mom behavior actually was. It's okay if Rory writes about how she experienced it...because as far as Rory is concerned, even at 32, it's still a fairy tale. But Lorelai doesn't want her to write about what it was actually like. Because similar to Jess's childhood with Liz, or even some other aspects of Luke's past such as caring for a dying parent alone, is beyond the capabilities of this show to accurately depict. It wasn't a fairy tale, it was a risky gamble that worked out fabulously for Lorelai in the end but probably wasn't much fun for quite a while. Rory is still immune to much of the reality of it, and doesn't understand this.
It does make me feel more compassion for Lorelai, even if the AYITL narrative is screaming that Lorelai needs to get over it and let Rory dissect her secrets for public consumption because Rory would rather do that instead of get a job or work towards one. There's a stage you get to as an adult when you realize your childhood was more fucked up than you realized at the time, and it shouldn't take writing a book to get there. ASP is reluctant to fill in the gaps on that line of logic, so we're just supposed to interpret Lorelai telling Rory no as unjust, even though Lorelai said she was okay with Rory just writing her interpretation of events.
#i also never understood why lorelai didn't bring up rory writing about her personal life because hellllllooooo#anyway#emily in wonderland#gilmore girls
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Warmth Lingers in the Smoke
For @woibbelywobbegong. The request: Regency AU Azris with forbidden love where it's the last time the two get to see each other before something happens.
A/N: Though I recieved this drabble request after the deadline I set, I couldn't resist ending this lil event on an Azris note :) I hope you all enjoyed this drabble series, the masterlist is coming soon! Yes, this drabble contains a shameless RWRB reference and I regret nothing.
⁓In this drabble I said homophobia has no place in this, fuck historical accuracy we're only here for vibes⁓
Azris ✦ Rated T ✦ 783 words ✦ on AO3
Eris’s eyes are closed, but he is not asleep. The sheets underneath him are warm. The arms around him, the cheek resting on his shoulder, are warmer.
This place, right here, where Azriel’s heart beats mere inches from his own was once what terrified him most. To be in this place was all he wanted. To be in this place was everything he could never have.
Yet here, against all odds and sound logic, Eris lies. As he has during so many stolen moments before.
Azriel is not asleep either. His breaths are soft puffs on Eris’s neck.
Maybe if they don’t move, if they do not speak, they can make this moment last indefinitely. Maybe this thing that feels like the sun in his chest will be enough to change the flow of time.
It’s a fool’s hope. Delusion. It’s fingers scrabbling for a hold and finding none. It’s a pair of waxen wings too close to the light.
Eris’s fingers trace the knobs of Azriel’s spine, memorizing the topography of him, mapping out the well-known valleys where he’d prefer to linger the rest of his days and the ridges he’d gladly die climbing.
Azriel tenses against him, a long exhale following. “I hate this.” He pulls closer to Eris, like he wishes to climb inside and make a home for himself within the cage of Eris’s ribs.
Eris hasn’t told Azriel that he already has a place there.
“I do too.”
“It’s unfair.”
“I know.”
In the morning Eris would leave for London and take up his rightful place as the new Lord Vanserra. His late father is scarcely a week in the ground but the man’s absence is already a marked improvement.
“I’m being selfish,” Azriel mumbles, lips snagging on Eris’s skin.
“I wish you would be more often.” Ink-colored waves slip through Eris’s fingers like corn silk.
Silence reigns for several heartbeats.
“We don’t have a ‘more often’ anymore, Eris,” Azriel whispers. Eris wishes he would yell.
Rage he understands. Anger he can handle. But this? He doesn’t know what to do with the regretful gentleness that Azriel’s handing him. It’s a fragile sounding thing, and yet it unbalances him, shakes his foundations with a bright surge of hope.
Hope, the feeling Eris has forbidden himself. Hope, the very thing he dared not bring with him to Azriel’s cottage this evening.
Hope. Eris extinguishes the flame as soon as it appears, but its warmth lingers in the smoke.
“Azriel, I—” he breathes, but the air is suddenly thick and it catches in his throat. “Were there anything I could do to shift the strings of fate I would. But you know I need to do this for my family, for my mother.”
“You know I understand.” Azriel flattens a scarred palm over his heart.
Azriel does understand, maybe better than anyone, Eris’s need to give his mother all the safety, security, and happiness he can possibly provide. It’s the least they can do for the women who did everything for them and did it while surviving their fathers.
Azriel understands because it’s the same reason he must remain on the Knight’s estate when Eris leaves. Though Azriel’s mother is a lady’s maid living in the manor and Azriel manages the family’s horses, he still can check on her daily here. Just as it’s Eris’s duty to find a spouse with land and title, to take up his father’s mantle.
“Eris, I do not resent you for this. I don’t regret us. I… I needed you to know that.” Azriel’s voice is barely louder than the softly crackling flames behind the grate across the room.
That fickle beating thing may reside in Eris’s chest but it belongs to this man beside him. Eris fears (desperately hopes) it always will. He doesn’t want anyone else to have it.
“I don’t regret a single moment,” Eris tells him honestly, pushing up onto an elbow to look at him properly.
Neither of them is particularly forthcoming about what they feel, but it seems as if the nature of this moment possibly—likely—being their last has torn down all the usual walls and left them bare. It’s right there in the unguarded hazel eyes blinking up at him.
Eris cups Azriel’s jaw, stubble prickling his palm. “I will be forever grateful to have known you.” He swallows, but forces himself to complete the thought, “To have known this.”
And then he’s kissing Azriel like the fervor of their lips will mend his shattering heart.
Love begets heartbreak. Eris knows this, has known since before they began, and was still hopeless against the fall. He never stood a chance—doesn’t think he ever wanted to.
✦ ✦ ✦
tagging: @ablogofsapphicpanic @damedechance @iftheshoef1tz @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @octobers-veryown @foundress0fnothing @krem-does-stuff @melonsfantasyworld @lady-riel @queercontrarian @asnowfern @valkyrieassassin @brokeneveningstars @catboyjamesbond @xtaketwox @itsthedoodle @areyoudreaminof @melphss @fieldofdaisiies @the-lonelybarricade
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#azris#azris fanfiction#eris vanserra#eris acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel#acotar au#regency au#eris x azriel#azriel x eris#kate's celebratory drabbles series#acotar fanfiction#acotar drabble
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A Court of Fallen Heroes: Chapter 10 - The Bloody Blade
" What do you know of the Deadly Nightshade? " Aoife's voice echoed in the basement room where most of the palace's laundry was washed.
It was a small chamber, barely big enough for the five of us who gathered to change in the smelly uniforms of the palace guards. They reeked of fermented sweat and rusted iron, and the metal cuffs pinched your skin as you pulled them on. Kallus had the idea, thinking it would be much better if we covered our own scent not only with what was left of my potion, but with the unwashed stench of fae men.
" What would a blonde like you want with the Nightshade? " Nimue cringed, her thick lashes framing her lilac pupils perfectly. " It's deadly. "
The witch stood with her back straight as if it was nailed into the wall. Her lilac and herbs perfume wafted through the room like an aphrodisiac, overpowering the other, more disgusting scents. I move a little closer to her, the nothing in my stomach ready to spill up my throat at any moment, and take a deep breath. Not only did these clothes stink, but they were sticky and stained with God knows what.
" Did you touch it? " I ask her worriedly, looking at her smooth palms. " I hope you didn't put your hands in your mouth afterwards. "
Niven raises her eyebrows and leans into a corner, her oversized black shirt half unbuttoned, straining to tie a cord around her waist. Kallus is silent, only poking his head out from behind the curtain we have improvised to change in as much privacy as possible. The man looks at her questioningly, as if guessing what she's thinking, but his mouth remains tight.
" I didn't touch it. I was just asking about it. " Her plucked eyebrows rose up to her unwrinkled forehead, scolding us. " I happen to have it in my garden, I want to know if I should use it in my tea or not. "
The young woman looked like a deity poured down from heaven in the light provided by a few bitter candles. Even tired from a full day's work of washing the stinking clothes of the castle's inhabitants, her hair, tucked under that ugly hat, looked just as shiny, her complexion just as clean, and her blue eyes darkened by a few shades.
" We're breaking into a prison and you want to ask about tea? " Niven's smile spreads across her sweaty face. " Are you nervous? "
Aoife is silent for a while, looking at me, threatening me not to open my mouth, not to explain more than necessary. There was a glimmer of hope in her sky-blue eyes, a glimmer that I didn't want anyone to extinguish. I suspected that the maid who had witnessed the humiliation during dinner had already informed the blonde that Draegan had asked her back to his bed, but I didn't know that she knew I had been there and that I was technically supposed to take her place tomorrow night. The real problem was that she had no way of stopping him other than letting him fall asleep and sneaking out of the room untouched. I didn't even know what I was going to do tomorrow night, the thought left me completely cold and empty. I hoped he would see my naked body and squirm and then let me go. But Aoife might have a much better idea, one that we could both do in secret.
That pain in my chest comes back, as if my heart is detached from the surrounding organs and falls into an endless void. Both men looked at me tonight like a zoo animal: one with a pair of eyes that had killed me so many times, and one with a hope that brought me back. Eris had sacrificed another human for me. I had sacrificed someone else for my own goals, which I put above all else. That's not what I was supposed to do here, I wasn't supposed to kill them, I was supposed to save them. And yet the first innocent life had just been lost because of me.
" I'm stressed when we have to steal from the most dangerous, unpredictable, mad-man in the continent, yes. " Aoife puts her hands on her hips, perfectly hiding the fear she knows she wears on her body like a coat.
" Atropa Belladonna is deadly, in the right dose. " I explain, pulling those huge, man-made pants up my thighs. " If you use too little, it can cause paralysis, pain, vomiting, muscle cramps, all sorts of horrible symptoms. "
Nimue throws her fierce eyes at me and crosses her hands on her chest. " You finally made your homework? Is it from those books you've been stealing from me? "
" I borrowed them and yes, I learned from them. A lot actually. "
The witch's smile spreads like a serpentine river across her thin, almost proud face. " I knew you were a good thief. But I wonder how you got that map. I wonder what you paid. "
Even though we had become close in a very strange way, there was this... awkwards connection between us, laced with bitterness, a hint of animosity and trust. Nimue still looked at me like I was about to grow a second head. But the good things had come after she'd saved us from Thaibar that day, when all the guards were looking for Aoife. I still wished I knew the limits of her powers, what kind of witch she was, if there was such a thing, what she could do, and if I could learn more from her than just potions and rituals, if I could steal some raw magic.
Niven glares at me, holding the huge helmet under her arm, then drops her head. She knew about Eris, about him catching me with the map in Draegan's bedroom, and she also knew that I'd met him to take it back. She also knew what he'd asked for in return, and she knew that I approved. But I gained so much more: crucial information. Eris had told me that the prison still wasn't on very good terms with Draegan, and that they didn't approve of his leadership over the kingdom, which is why it would have been easy to get in, based on the fact that they wanted to get rid of certain prisoners he had also sent there. In addition, Eris had secretly stamped the letter Kallus was holding, requesting the release of a prisoner for a short period of time.
Little did he know that the ultimate price was a woman's life. Outrageous or not, part of me was glad that someone had gone to such lengths to keep me out of Draegan's fingers. The other part felt a dark cloud over her head, like an impending curse about to break in her temples: she would pay for the death of an innocent life. I would have gladly paid anything if I knew it would have saved me a quarter of this suffocating feeling.
I don't know what I was dreaming about, I don't even know why I had such high expectations. Whenever I read romance novels and the protagonist mentioned that she was breathless when she saw him, I preferred to roll my eyes and say that she was easily impressed. I had a bad habit of thinking that I would be harder to surprise, that I wouldn't be so easily struck by the beauty of anyone, male or female. All my life I have been firmly convinced that there is no such thing as a perfect human being, that this concept is really in the eye of the beholder, the one who describes or paints a muse who for him or her represents the sum total of subjectively excellent qualities.
That's what I like to think about all these characters I read about in fantasy books. From the first day I started working at the palace, I had noticed how flawless these supernatural creatures could look: fine complexions, shining like porcelain, pointed ears, silky, shiny hair, dazzling eyes, full or thin lips, tall, athletic, well-shaped bodies, with roundness where it belonged and an appropriate amount of muscles, with a slightly icy aura about them, as if they refrained from blinding us with their natural light.
I got used to all that. Then came Eris Vanserra. Nothing but cool and cheeky flirtation, wide grin, fiery brown eyes full of promises, high cheekbones with thin, tight lips, slim waist with just the right amount of muscle in the places that mattered. He smelled of nutmeg and the fires we made in the forest of Thaibar, and he dressed exactly as an heir to the throne should. He was unexpected in every way. The misunderstood anti-hero turned pale when he returned the map to me and I told him I trusted him enough to explain why I needed the map. I don't know if it was the fact that I had the courage to put my trust in his hands that shocked him the most, or if it was my idea to break into Hybern's prison to free one of its most dangerous prisoners. But I could feel his temper change, as if for the first time someone had placed their life in his hands and he was afraid not to break it.
Well, I was impressed with Eris and what he did to protect me as best he could. But the winged one had me head over heels after I saw him once. And my infatuation cooled as quickly as it came.
If I had butterflies in my stomach seeing Eris so close, Azriel made me hold my breath. No, literally lose it. And with my breath I lost my logic, my train of thought, forgot where I was and what I was doing, what I was saying. I felt no dopamine coursing through my bloodstream, just a tremendous desire to impress. A blanket of silence had settled around me at that moment, my ears were completely sunk in and all my attention was focused on him, my body was painfully numb and any emotion had been silenced. It was as if I was in that oasis I had fallen into for the second time a month ago, completely calm and at peace. Yet I had been as dumb as a virgin in front of the most beautiful man I had seen in two worlds. He spoke to me, but I ignored him. I didn't have a good enough sentence to say to him. I could have given him a sign, pulled him aside, asked him to help me.
I couldn't even look him in the eye. And I didn't want to. They melted and froze me in the few seconds I allowed myself that luxury.
He was so tall and imposing, so grandly contoured, painstakingly carved as if by two right, expert hands, merciless to those who might see him and be blinded by his beauty. He had a strong chin and a sharp jaw, lips full enough to be kissed if the opportunity arose, with a Cupid's bow cut roughly to perfection. All framed by wide, slightly arched eyebrows and thick, glossy black hair that grew slightly over the ears and high forehead. The piece de resistance were undoubtedly the eyes: hard, enigmatic, surprisingly gentle, yet agile and unforgiving, quick to take in every detail, like whiskey through a glass in a smoldering fire, like amber unraveling in the sun's rays.
Not to mention that I shuddered at the sight of his famous shadows. They weren't just shadows, they were more than that. They were like slippery tongues of darkness, rising and dissipating like smoke, concentrated at a particular point on his intensely forged body, playful and subtle, the more you looked at them, the more you realized that they were living elements, with a consciousness of their own, capable of inflicting wounds like any sharp knife. I could feel them studying me closely, as if they wanted to take a close look inside my mind. They sniffed at me like guard dogs, eager to protect their master from any threat. Fear gripped me as I noticed them moving around my waist, where I held the dagger I had stolen in my dream. Fortunately, I retreated in time, or I fear they would have shreded my clothes there to see what I was hiding and how deadly it was.
I had decided by then, however, that I would not be approaching Azriel anytime soon. I didn't have the courage, not after seeing his monstrous wings rise like mountains from his back: black and violently muscled, with scars and bony fangs piercing painfully through the shiny wing membrane.
I don't know what I expected from him. The same protection Eris had offered me so quickly and without question? More attention? If I was the main character in this story and had to help this world, that didn't mean I was a beauty, that such an imposing man with so many other options would notice me. I sighed inwardly as I realized how ridiculous I was, trapped in my own fantasy with him. But I already knew he was taken. I knew his heart belonged to someone else, and there was no way I could compete with a beauty like Elain, even though I hadn't seen her yet and didn't know if I ever would. So, with an empty heart, I put aside whatever love subplot might have happened during my journey here and moved on.
Then, during dinner, when he looked at me so disappointed, so silent and angry, like a father who disagrees with his daughter's actions, I felt like the sky was cracking in my head. It was as if he was expecting me, a mere servant to do something, to save them. Did he realize that I didn't belong in this place?
I had still hoped that he would somehow save the day, as he had at the meeting of the High Lords, when he defended Feyre, or when he freed Elain, or when he saved Gwyn from Sangravah. I had waited for him to intervene when Draegan slapped the first handmaiden, when he invited the second into his bed, when he kissed me disgustingly, or when he killed the fourth. But none of that happened, and I returned his gaze just as sourly, allowing myself to watch him as disappointedly as he had studied me for minutes.
" Nimue, it doesn't make any changes to the plan if we know how Cyan got the map. " Kallus talks slowly, pulling me violently from the thoughts that had gripped me like ivy. " We should go over the details again if we want everything to work. "
" I have another, I'd say good question, if Kallus allows me to make assumptions: how much can we trust the information that you heard from Eris Vanserra? " Nimue helps me strap something to my arms, the same suspicion lacing her words. " They say their lineage is descended from foxes. How much can you trust a fox? "
" It's all the information we have in a time that's running out too fast. My father has heard the gossip from the continent: that Cyan's landing has brought anomalies to the surface that others consider the end of the world. " Niven mumbles worriedly, tucking her map into her armor. " Many say the Devourer rebels in his tomb between worlds, others that a Dark King stirs the forests and lakes between the continents. "
" It means they felt it too. " Aoife whispers, staring into the flame.
" The Night Court also sent his Spymaster here. " Nimue spoke again, considering me. " It means they might suspect something is wrong too. "
" The Shadowsinger is the one we should fear, not Vanserra. " Kallus concluded, not taking his eyes off Nimue. " He hears and feels things no one else can, he might have sensed the change in the atmosphere and it took some time to find the place the energetic charge came from. It won't take him long to find us, to find you, Cyan. "
" The one from the other world surely knows your fate. " Nimue concluded, clenching her fists. " Amren. "
Amren, of course, how could I forget her. She had been... something, something very powerful before she died and was brought to life in the books. An angel, most readers in the other world suspected. She should have been the first to figure out what was going on and how to find me. That's exactly why I shouldn't have been afraid of them, especially if they were trying to find me, maybe they wanted to help me.
" We must find this woman and save her. If there's anything left to save. " Kallus rubs his overgrown beard and looks sternly at Nimue, a whole conversation unfolding between them. "I looked some more and managed to find her name: Malou - the Bloody Blade. "
" That Bloody Blade? " Nimue asks sternly and it's the first time I see her shocked by something.
We all look at each other, dazed, as if a ghost had suddenly came among us, as cold as a raging winter, entering our bones. The candlelight dances and I can feel the strands of hair that washed over my face dancing in front of my eyes. I stare at the door, expecting some huge creature to enter and crush us all. For minutes we are silent, aware of each other's presence, but no one steps through the door.
" The temperature has dropped, do you feel it? " Niven asks, pulling the sweaty armor closer.
" There's a spirit with us. " Nimue concludes, closing her eyes and extending her palms. " It's harmless, but she wants to listen. "
" Who is it? " Aoife asks, drawing a piece of cloth over her shoulders.
" The last true, living Valkyrie is with us. " Kallus sighs, happiness filling his features.
" Is she the one we're going after? " I ask, overcome with adrenaline and excitement. " Why is she a spirit? "
I feel her surrounding me, like a curtain fluttering in the wind, almost suffocating me. I feel her unpleasant eyes on the back of my neck, sniffing me. I feel compelled to stand as straight as a tree..
" One of their most important powers was their ability to cultivate different elements around them to improve their own strength. It's called Cultivation, it's a sub-power of Thriving, something only an extinct cult could do. It gives the wielder enough power to astral project. The Valkyries and the Eyes of the Mother were closely related, being the protectors of the Mother herself. But a group of beings brought their downfall far too many years ago. " Nimue explained as she looked around, as if she could see the silhouette of the one walking freely among us.
" If she is Malou and still has this ability, it means -" Kallus was interrupted by Nimue, who smiled triumphantly.
" That she's still in contact with one of the Eyes. It means one more is alive and waiting. "
" Do we have to find her too? " I ask enthusiastically.
" Only Malou can lead you to the last of the Eyes. They share a bond that allows them to use their co-dependent magic. " Nimue explains, equally excited as she looks at all of us. " That's how she survived all these centuries... It's wonderful... You were right Kallus, there is hope for us. "
" After everything is over, we'll celebrate. " Kallus allowed himself to chuckle softly in that darkness, and with that, I allowed myself to feel joy as well.
We can do it. We can get out alive.
With that hope still imprinted in all five of us, we quickly recapped the plan we were supposed to follow. Aoife had been another important part of it, bringing us another item we couldn't have gotten into the prison without: the key. It was a single one, made of a hard, black material that would open all the cells. There were several sections in the prison, categorized according to the danger level of the creatures imprisoned there. So all the wardens had one. The problem was that we didn't know exactly at which level we could find Malou.
Kallus suspected that she was in section 'S', the highest level of security, where the walls were carved with runes on the inside, preventing any magic, designed to weaken the inmate himself. They fed off their life force, their energy, their powers, so they were always on and they never failed. That's why we had Nimue, who had been working for days on a symbol and the ink we needed to use. It was a diamond with elongated corners cut by a straight line in the middle. I'd seen it before in the other world, used by self-entitled witches on the internet. I'd used it myself, but it never worked.
Kallus was to provide transportation from the prison to the palace and then to the farm. Then, right after all that, we were to run away with Aoife's uncle. That evening. Malou was supposed to be one of the most important prisoners Hybern had kept forgotten in a dungeon for so long, and her absence the next day would set off a lot of alarm bells.
" May we not shrink from our purpose. " Kallus whispered, looking at Niven with his sad, green eyes, now shining like emeralds in the candlelight.
" May we not falter under darkness's terror. " Niven goes on, grave as a tombstone, looking at her father as seriously as if she felt this was the last road.
" May we finally rest when we are claimed. " Nimue seemed to end, placing the palm of her long-nailed hand over her heart in a final prayer to anyone who would listen.
Aoife lowered her head, respecting the silence and the prayer they had said for all of us. There's no stopping us now as we sneak out the door, finally ready to finish what we started a month ago.
After everyone has left the laundry room, I stop Aoife with a hand on her shoulder. " Brew this tea tonight and put a cup in his wine. It should kill a man in less than ten minutes. I don't know what effect Nightshade has on faes, so you might want to add another cup just to be sure. And whatever happens tonight, don't let him touch you or the other girl. " I whisper and hand Aoife the most precious thing I had with me, the black leather sheathed dagger I had stolen in my dream.
" How do you know I have it on me? " Aoife looks at me puzzled and taps her apron pocket.
" No offense, but you smell like dead rats and you have pink stains on your shirt. Nimue know you have it, too. So don't falter tonight. " I place my hand on her cheek, encouraging her, and walk away.
As if she didn't know us, Nimue quickly sneaks back to her hiding place on the ground floor of the palace, where the doctor's office is. Her purple velvet gown covers her hips, swaing them as elegantly as a proud cat. Kallus and Niven retrieved their swords and set off in that robotic way we saw the guards walk.
A sudden pull binds my legs and stops me in my tracks. For a few seconds I am unbalanced, pulled down by the weight of the armor. Tingles spread across my shoulders, as if thousands of butterflies had flapped their fine wings against my cold skin, and suddenly I realize why.
" I've seen you before. " A deep, deadly voice speaks a few steps behind me.
I turn a fraction of an inch and see him again, the same man of my dreams, the same man I had lusted after not only in the other world, but here too. He grabbed Nimue harshly by the arm and demanded answers. Azriel was a few heads taller than the brunette, broader in the shoulders, and this time he was clean, his Illyrian skins now washed. He felt me watching him like a hungry animal and turned his head to me far too slowly, defiantly. Azriel had something murderous written all over his face, and he focused all his attention on me.
" In your dreams, maybe. " Nimue answers proudly, unnafected by the Spymaster.
My legs are racing, and with them my heart, as if they were competing to see who could go the furthest. All this infatuation mixed with disappointment and hatred and anger, and even though I knew that I shouldn't blame him for the girl who lost her life, but myself, my expectations demanded more and more from someone I didn't know at all. Azriel had his reasons for being here, and the way he was looking at me right now, I had a feeling it wouldn't be long before he realized who I was.
Once we reach the stables, Kallus uncovers the imperial carriage the guards used to transport the prisoners. " I have been looking for one of these all day. Get in, I'll talk if anyone asks too many questions."
Outside it was raining heavily, loudly and violently, like a bad omen, and suddenly I felt the need to be held, to be protected and to hide.
" Wait! " I shout, stopping them before they get into the pitch-black carriage. The two horses whine and kick their hooves, but I don't hesitate as I throw myself into their arms like it was the last time. " No matter what happens tonight, I have the utmost respect for your family, Kallus, you have helped me more than others have in a lifetime, and I will forever cherish what you gave me: another chance. "
" Don't say goodbye. " Niven whispers and I can feel those tears straining her soft voice. " This is not a goodbye, Cyan. We'll make it. "
" I know. But I feel like I never had a chance to thank you and tell you that you have a place in my heart forever. " The hole in my stomach grows bigger and I regret that I can't say 'I love you' to these people, but I hope they read between my words.
" I love you like my own child and I would do anything for you, Cyan. We'll make it through the night. " Kallus says in a final tone, sucking back his own tears. " Now hurry before someone sees some guards bonding in the barn. "
As Niven and I go to close the door, someone calls after us. " Chief Carambian, head of palace security. Identify yourself and your purpose in taking a royal carriage. "
Kallus presents a paper, torn and signed, then speaks in a deep, dark voice I have never heard before. " The king requests that a prisoner be brought to the palace. Tonight. "
Through the open window of the carriage, I watch the other man carefully read the letter and then approve it. " You have clear path. "
We stop stalling and set off at a fast pace. The horses gallop furiously through the backyard, stopping only for a few seconds, while Kallus is forced to show the false letter to the guards at the gates. The prison is a few miles away, in the opposite direction from Thaibar, hidden in the woods. At this late hour, only the lanterns attached to the cart illuminated the beaten path. The trees seemed taller and more menacing than those in the forest near Thaibar. Many of them had no leaves at all, just twisted trunks, as if they were in pain and had no one to comfort them. Outside it was still pouring heavily, soaking the path and making it slippery as Kallus turned. It smelled of wet leaves, cold and muddy, and the silence was so ingrained among the long branches that we were the only ones to break the seemingly sacred silence.
We had that hope that we would make it tonight, that the first step of our plan would happen without anyone getting in our way. Even though my breath came in short and quick, like an asthma attack, even though the feeling of impending doom seemed to creep over my skin, the adrenaline I felt was more alive than anything else, burning my body from the inside out. I don't know how Kallus was able to stay out in the pouring rain, but he assured us that it was better for him to drive alone; too many people would have drawn attention to us.
Sleep soothed my eyes, but I couldn't close them, I was too full of conflicting feelings. I don't even know what time it was, one, two in the morning? By now Aoife must have been in the imperial bedroom, pouring poison into glasses. The thought provokes a physical reaction of nausea in me, so I glance at Niven out of the corner of my eye to reassure myself. She's asleep, head down on the opposite couch, mouth open. She slept the entire twenty minutes we'd made it from the palace to the middle of this wilderness.
There is a knocking on the metal roof of the carriage and Kallus calls from outside: " It's time, girls. "
" Wake up, Nivy, we're here. " I shake Niven gently, pulling her hair away from her face and helping her out of her dream's grip.
" I'm up. I'm up. " She mumbles, wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth and pulling her hood over her head. " How long have I been out? "
" Barely twenty minutes. " I answer as I open the door and jump onto the earth. A wet sound comes from the impact and I dive a little into the mud.
" Here, take the declaration and Nimue's ink. You remember the sigil, right? " Kallus jumps out of the driver's seat as well, pulling all the tools out of his pockets, then continues when I nod. " Whatever you do, whatever they ask you, just say that Draegan sent you and that if they have anything to say about it, to come to the castle for answers. Malou might be in the last cells, just ask them to show you the Valkyrie. I'll wait for you in the carriage and keep an eye out. You have to understand that if you reach the basement level and something bad happens, you'll most likely be trapped down there. Move quickly and stay alive. Let's hope our Valkyrie is holding strong. "
We both nodded, then poured what was left of my potion down our throats, then added a second one that Nimue had made to glamorize us. We needed to sound and look like men, not two twenty-year-old girls, so Nimue had prepared two extra bottles. I don't know how long her magic lasted, but I guessed no more than an hour or two, so we had to move very quickly.
As far as I knew, there were two parts to the prison, the above-ground part, where the humans or not-so-dangerous prisoners were kept, and the underground part, where all the creatures and nightmares we were supposed to run away from were trapped.
" May we not falter... " Niven whispers as we step out, away from the cover provided by the trees, and thousands of crossbows are aimed at our heads from the outer wall of the prison.
" Amen!... " I mutter, already frightened.
We advanced robotically, with the spears we had obtained from the palace in full view and with our backs straight. There was no turning back. The rain pelted down hard and furiously, seeping through the seams of our armor and soaking into the sweaters we had put on underneath to make us look more massive. Huge drops of water made a disconcerting sound as they made contact with the obsidian on our shoulder blades and helmet crest. The boots, five sizes too big, were playing havoc with my legs and the soles of my feet were already getting wet from the puddle that was forming beneath us by the second. Niven was no better, only a head taller than me, but much, much skinnier. She'd needed two pairs of pants and two blouses to fill the armor to the brim.
" Legitimize yourself! " A voice shouts out of nowhere as we reach the huge gate. On the outside, it is lit only by two massive torches, which illuminate the rusty and bleeding spears coming out of the gate.
I could feel the magic sweeping over me, from my ankles to the top of my head, raising my temperature and sharpening my vision. I felt more massive, as if I had grown a few inches taller, but also heavier, as if I had gained weight. I could feel my jaw tingling under the balaclava, and was surprised to find that I had grown a beard, and my ears were painfully pricked by the roundness of my helmet. We had already transformed.
" General Charon. " I scream as loud as I can, feeling the witch's brew constrict my lungs.
" Chief of the palace servants, General Carambian. " Niven shouted back, raising her head to be heard.
A few horrible seconds of waiting pass, then a deafening screech almost makes me duck. The gate opens painfully, creaking on all sides and dragging heavily on the ground. Five fae await us at the entrance, shining swords, seemingly freshly sharpened, lying murderously on their arms, torches in their hands.
The man who looked at us questioningly could not have been more than thirty years old, though he was a fae, which could mean he was easily five hundred years old. He was bald, his pointed ears protruding past the edge of his occipital bone, and his eyes were small and wrinkled, set in the center of his hateful face. He didn't smile, but his lips were thin and parted in a harsh, implacable line.
He walks toward us, with his torch blowing in the wind and shows his sharp fangs. " It is past midnight, Lord Charon, what does His Highness desire at this obscene hour? "
" We are not to judge King Draegan's orders or desires, so read for yourself. " I reply with how much coldness I am capable of, considering my underwear is shaking on me, and hand him the same sheet that Kallus had shown the stableman.
" You wish to escort an ' S ' classed creature to the palace?! " His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had eaten forks and knives all his life, and his throat was not in the best shape. " I have to refuse. I can't let such fae out. It's dangerous. "
" Sire. " Someone speaks behind him, and the man turns his head to the side. " Sir Lisko, if the Master wishes, we must obey. "
" The prison still does not answer to its own self-appointed leadership. " Sir Lisko spits, obviously irritated, then stares at us for a second in silence. " Why would he want such creature free inside the palace. "
" The creature must be bound and gagged. " Niven's words come out with a raspy, purely masculine timbre, and I smile under my mask, begging to get inside faster and get it over with. " King Draegan wants a spectacle for a guest - The Autumn Court's Heir and The Night Court's Emissary. "
" You see, sire, he already has connections across the continent. He'll free us soon. " The same voice speaks, changing Lisko's mind.
" Fine. You have one hour to take whatever you need. " He turns and gestures for us to follow.
We obey without comment and the joy begins to grow in me. I hope that luck will be with us all the way.
First, we crossed the small courtyard, where it seemed that the prisoners were allowed to go outside from time to time, judging by the number of tables and chairs arranged one on top of the other, balls and obstacle courses, probably made for training. Lisko, as the other man called him, lifts the latch on the huge, tree-covered building and invites us in. We enter the above-ground prison without much fuss, only to be bombarded with moans and groans.
Darkness reigned over the smelly, cold cells, and for a second I wondered if anyone was alive in those cages. Not even the moon shone through the holes in the prison stone. At this late hour, everyone was probably fast asleep. Only the few candles in the walls lit the way for the guards. Niven looks around too, and I can feel the tension in her muscles and her disgust. There was an overpowering smell of closed air and unwashed bodies, feces and rotten food. All I could see were limbs: crippled hands half covered with blankets eaten away by rats, legs with gangrene that looked like they had been eaten by bugs. I almost vomited when I saw a man relieving himself between the sheets that should have been his bed. Someone screams above us, and I jump, stifling a scream of my own.
Was it a prison or a sanatorium?
" Don't be so scared, Charon. They're as good as dead and doped up. " Lisko says proudly as he grabs a set of keys from nearby and unlocks some doors.
" What did they do? " Niven can't help but ask as she watches a woman write in stone with her fingernails melted and bloodshot.
" You may think we put all people in jail, but there are real criminals here. " He answers, then we stop in front of a cell where a man is fast asleep with his back to us. " He killed his entire family in a manic episode, then he ate them one by one. " We walk a few steps and stop in front of another cell where a child was lying in rags. " Don't be fooled. He raped his aunt and hung her in the attic, then stole her money and lost it gambling. He paid whores to please him, then cut out their tongues when he wasn't satisfied. He's barely fifteen. "
The boy's sardonic grin is all the confirmation I need as he bares his razor-sharp teeth like a hungry shark.
" So you don't have innocent humans here. " I ask as I watch another man satisfy his needs under the covers.
Lisko's wrinkled face turns toward us, cold and emotionless. He opens an obsidian door that leads to a staircase.
"I'd say it's too late to seek your penance, General Charon. Freeing one prisoner doesn't make up for all the innocent lives you've taken. " He doesn't wait for me to answer, so he rolls his eyes and speaks again. " If you want to expand the cells under the palace, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the prison is full. I thought you'd put all the people you torture in there. "
I try not to be too impressed by the way Sir Lisko, the last fae I would have expected, spoke with such disgust of the things Draegan and Charon had done to the humans. As if he really cared about the innocent lives lost within the palace walls. I look at his disheveled hands and my eyes widen when I notice the gold band that marks him as married. Could his wife be human?
" We do. " Niven agrees for me and steps in front of me. " We need to find the Valkyrie. "
"I don't know if she's still alive in this pit. You'll find her remains in the last cell on the left. Just stay in the main hall and you will be fine. I don't get paid enough to go into that hole with you at night. If you have what you need, I'll be waiting upstairs. " Lisko announces, and before he closes the door, he tells us one more thing. " Don't listen to the voices. "
When the door behind us was unlocked, the silence washed over us, broken only by our intertwined breaths. It was hard to carry armor that weighed half as much as you, so I was out of breath every few steps. I picked up a torch leaning against the stone wall and stared tensely at Niven. Her helmet was turned toward me, as if she, too, was watching me in confusion.
" We'll manage. " I speak and the echo answers me with the same words.
We make our way down the spiral staircase, descending for minutes as if driving into the center of the earth, and at the bottom we would find the lava boiling. Occasionally we'd come to a window that once let in fresh air, but was now covered over. I looked down, careful not to slip on the broken steps that were missing large chunks of material. Not even the spiders lived here.
Niven stops abruptly, both palms pressed against the narrow walls of the stairs for balance. " Did you hear that? "
A shiver ran down my spine and I suddenly became much more alert. This was everything I didn't want to hear while I was buried in a grave. I frown from behind my metal helmet and sharpen my ears. Too bad the potion didn't give me their fine hearing as well, just the sharp look, maybe I'd hear the thing Niven was talking about. My heart raced, pounding so hard that I could see my chest heaving under those powerful beats.
" I don't hear anything. I'm only really cold. " I say as we walk down a few more steps, then she stops again.
" Strange, I'm really, really hot. But I hear them talking. "
" Don't listen to them, Nivy, you heard the guy. "
When we finally step onto level ground, the fog engulfs my ankles, and with it, panic settles in my chest, sinking its insatiable claws into my heart. Pitch black. A deep blackness, as if I could cut it with a knife, surrounds us and with it the smell of decay. I refrain from any sarcastic comment and just clench my jaw, trying to find the courage to continue. I swallow dryly and raise the torch even higher, trying to shed as much light as possible into the wide corridor. I would never have dared to venture into an underground graveyard alone, filled with creatures that had magical powers and probably loved the taste of human flesh. I probably reeked of fear, a smell I'd always heard creatures of the dark loved, as if it were an aphrodisiac for their nostrils. I look back and am relieved to see the stone wall, it meant we could start somewhere, that this was the main corridor Lisko had told us about and we didn't have to wander lost through this cursed place.
" Do you still hear them? " I ask skeptically with a sigh as we walk down the muffled corridor.
The cells were hidden in the darkness, and I didn't dare bring the fire near them, not wanting to disturb whatever was in that darkness. It was enough that I felt thousands of pairs of eyes in the back of my head, watching me far too closely for my own liking. I was sure that, unlike the inhabitants upstairs, those down here were not sleeping, but hunting at these hours. I stayed as close to Niven as I could, the same distance from the cells, to reduce the chance of being grabbed by one of the tentacles. Sometimes I even felt ghostly touches on my back and forearms and forced myself not to look back. I had heard that it is not good to look back when someone is calling you, whistling at you, or when you feel unseen touches, so I preferred to stick to my earthly teachin
" Yes, they want you to set them free. They promise to obey. We both know they won't. " Niven encourages me not to listen to them either..
" What if they're innocent? "
" I don't trust anything that thrives in the darkness. "
When we finally reached the end of the haunted corridor, it took me a few seconds to work up the courage to put my flame in front of the cell. I knew the underground prison wasn't empty, not by a long shot, even if I didn't hear any voices. Niven probably heard them because she was one of Mother's benefactors.
" Maybe is on another hallway. " Nivy whispered manfully from behind me, turning her head. " But there's no light anywhere, we could easily get lost in this labyrinth. "
" It can't be. " I say, waving the torch back and forth as desperation begins to overtake me. " She can't be dead! She's here, she's close, my intuition never lies to me. "
But as I searched for the uninhabited piece of land, staring in shock at the perfectly made bed and the unused dresser, hope seemed to leave me as quickly as it had come. I could feel it inside, the certainty that I would find it here, still alive, that reality seemed to be playing tricks on me.
" You finally came after me, mighty Benefactor? " Someone is talking, and for a second I think the fire is casting shadows on the walls as I see a pile of clothes jerking around, trying to turn around. " I died long ago. Buried in my own grief. "
" Are you?... " I ask in a whisper, as if I could wake the dead. " You were the one listening, back in the palace? "
Niven comes closer, mouth agape in shock and hope and triumph, and before I can stop her, she lunges for the iron bars, clenching them into tight fists.
" Malou? Yes, but I'm not a Valkyrie anymore. " An endless sadness poured from her timbre, which seemed so, so old. " I could never be one again, after what I've done... You seemed quite thrilled to come and die here for my sake. "
We had come this far and planned how to get in and how to get out, and we were so blinded by the idea that the woman might be dead that we hadn't thought about how to convince her to come with us. I wasn't being absurd, I had considered her mental situation, but I hadn't prepared any emotional speech about life and death, I had relied on her desire to be free again. But what if she didn't want to be free? I knew from my experience with my father that a conversation with a traumatized person is a constant back and forth, and that it is very difficult to reason with them.
" Please, I need your help. We need your help. " I manage to speak slowly, as if the woman was deaf. " Something bad is happening outside, and we need you by our side. "
The woman laughs, jerky, hoarse, then coughs as if her lungs are filled with pus. In this cold place, I wouldn't be surprised if the creatures ended up with bronchopneumonia from these precarious conditions. I wasn't even sure if they were being fed or even offered a glass of water.
" Oh I know. I've heard about you're coming - Ves-per-tus. " She takes a long pause, then continues. " I used to guard and train women like this. Tragic miracles... The world may need you, but it does not need me. The world has been nothing but cruel to me and my sisters. So why should I make another sacrifice for something that erased me? "
" The world has changed, some parts have been rebuilt by people with hope. Kind people. They fight for the minorities, they try to help, they try to dispel the darkness. " I try to convince her, not knowing if what I said was the truth or a lie, but thinking of Prythian, I knew some of my words were sincere. " You've been locked up for too long and the world has moved on, but you don't need to be caged just because you're afraid of the outside. You deserve freedom. "
She fully turns and for the thousandth time tonight I allow myself to be surprised. An old, chocolate, wrinkled face looked back at me as if I had insulted or slapped her. I could see how her white hair framed her bony face, how it accentuated her glassy eye, crisscrossed by a deep, still reddish scar. Her cheeks and chin were adorned with tribal tattoos, now faded to gray marks. The real, healthy one, however, betrayed so many emotions in the blackness as deep as the one in prison: grief, regret, and such low self-esteem. Her lips were still round, fleshy, and well-defined, but they had become discolored with age.
" The prison is sucking the life out of you. " Niven explains, still gripping the bars. " You are not alone. You are a legend, Malou. My family and I have waited centuries for this glimmer of hope, please don't say no. "
" I do not need the mercy of the Benefactors. You have chosen to wait and be crushed by the ever-growing forces of darkness. You never fight, governed by that pathetic law of not harming anything that moves. We lost the battle once because of you. I let myself be captured. I don't deserve freedom. I deserve to rot in this cell. " Malou spits angrily and approaches us. " Now get the fuck away from me. Every glimmer or nice word you tell me will make me vomit in my mouth. "
Niven squirmed, apparently shaken by the old woman's words, but I didn't have time to ponder all that had been so casually thrown in her face.
" Malou, I know you may feel hopeless and alone and tired, but you are a warrior at heart. I was alone too, I was dead inside too, but there's a way home for all of us, even for you. You have to fight again. We have to fight again. Don't let your potential be lost in Hybern's hands. "
" My home is lost. I don't want to be a blade again. No one came to help us when we needed help. I lost the most important battle - the war. "
" No, it's not. You can find it again. Home is not a place, you can find it in someone else's heart. And I know for sure that you still have a piece of what you call home that is lost somewhere in this world. Fight by my side, let's rebuild what was lost. I beg you, I will give you all that you need, all that you desire. But I need you, the Mother needs you, everyone needs you. You may not feel like a Valkyrie, but you're a strong woman. You have the power to begin again. I'll be beside you in this war. "
She puffs, then a wry smile spreads across her dry lips. " It's easy to throw words, child. Wars are not won by a handful of trained warriors. War means blood, colossal losses, dying loved ones, strategic battles, and sacrifice. Are you ready to make that sacrifice when the time comes? If you had to kill ten people to save one important man who has all the advantages over the enemy, would you do it? When you find out what I've done, what I've had to give up, you won't need me anymore. And more than that, you're just a human now. You're still not a Vesper. You don't have anything I want or need. "
" That's why I need you. You can teach me everything you know. "
" No. " Malou almost screamed, snarling at me with her sharp teeth. " It takes years, years! Even more, to train one fucking soldier. But a living Vesper? That takes centuries. All the arts you must master to fight the darkness are no child's play. You won't be able to save anything. We will die under your clumsiness. "
" You have to give me a chance. " I say, her words tearing the hope out of me piece by piece, slowly killing me. " Don't die without putting up a fight. Don't give up. Stop running from the past, stop hiding in the darkness, you are a creature of light, a symbol. You have a chance to right your wrongs, don't kick it away! I'll go out there and do my best, even if I die. But I'd like to have at least one small chance of winning. "
Malou looked at me with her healthy eyes and frowned so hard that the wrinkled skin between her eyebrows formed a deep crease. Obviously I've pushed all her buttons, because I see something change in her hard look. The 'no' becomes a 'maybe if...' inside her and I feel her change as she stands on her two feet and stares limply at us and back at the greasy cell. I feel the frustration seeping out of me, my patience wearing thin.
" The Mother calls your name into battle and you refuse? Your comrade, your Carranam is still alive, still suffering, Gods knows where, waiting for you, and you choose to be nothing but trash to Hybern. Their punching bag. You are no longer a Valkyrie, indeed. "
" Nivy... Don't say that. " I place a hand on her shoulder, trying to stifle any harsh words, but she shakes away from my touch.
" Don't stop her, she's right. " The old woman stands on her emaciated feet, dressed in a long robe, sweeping the stone floor. A new light appeared in her eyes, as if the thought of her Carranam had restored this last hope. " If you become a Vespertus, if you manage to survive the literal heartbreak, I would want one thing, but you must do it with your hands. No one else. If I protect you with whatever power I have and train you in the old ways, you owe me one thing. "
" Whatever you need. " I promise, feeling in my gut that I was making a colossal mistake.
" My word is law, and so shall yours be. When the time comes, at the very end, my life will perish under your sword. You will sacrifice me so that I may finally be with my sisters. "
" What? " I look at her in shock, overcome with horror. " Why would I kill you? "
" Because she can't kill herself. " Niven concludes nervously. " The Mother would never allow such a sacrifice. It's an insult to her for you to take your own life. So if her work on the material world is not done, the Mother will not call her to the skies. The only creature that can end their misery is the Mother herself, or... "
" The Mother's own daughter, blood from her blood. " Malou smiles, satisfied, knowing she had us trapped, we couldn't refuse when her agreement to come with us was depending on this bargain.
Niven's words settle in my head and I look at Malou, her cunning face still strong. That's why I couldn't kill myself, because my life was in Mother's hands and she wouldn't let me go.
" That's why you couldn't do it either. " Mallou approaches me and smiles sadly. " That's why you couldn't kill yourself. "
" Have you... " Niven turns her head, and I refuse to look at her, overcome with shame.
" How did you know? " I ask her with all the emotions churning inside me.
" I'm almost as old as time, I know a lot of things. Accept my offer or I won't come. "
I look at Niven, who is as dizzy as I am. I realize that I'm running out of time when my skin starts to tingle and my facial hair starts to fade.
" Tic- tac. " Malou whispers, covered by the shadows.
" I'll do it. " But I will decide when the time comes.
Malou slips her hand through the iron bars like a snake and steals a dagger from Niven's armor, which makes Niven fall on her ass. She cuts her palm, then hands me the bloody blade. " Seal the deal! "
I don't think too far ahead as I throw down my glove and follow her gestures, feeling the sharpness of the knife nick my skin. Pain shocks my shoulder and almost immediately dark blood spurts out, spilling everywhere, running through the cracks in the stones on the floor. Malou grabs my hand aggressively, digging her unkempt nails into my blouse. A cold thunder rumbles in the distance, as if what we are doing now is against nature, as if we have broken the laws of the universe. I feel the clap of thunder as if it had struck me, a strange energy coursing through my whole body, invigorating and exhausting me at the same time.
I refrain from screaming, the pain from the cut pumping through my muscles. I feel her dry skin rub against mine, our blood now bound together for what seems like forever. Tongue of darkness climbs up our arms, marking the bargain. Malou just grimaces, apparently gripped by this strange, piercing pain as well. Time stops for a few seconds and I watch silently as the black ink sprouts in my palm, closing the cut. A snake blooms from under my skin, while a bird, a raven, entwines itself on Malou's old palm.
" I am the eye of the crow that watches over the head of the mighty serpent. " We say in unison, our voices possessed by thousands of ancestors.
Niven stares at us dumbfounded, but doesn't linger long and begins to draw the seal on the cell door. Something crackles in the walls, disabling whatever was keeping Malou exhausted. The woman gasped, as if a pain had been removed from her soul. She quickly opened the door with the stolen key, then hurried to support Malou, who was barely holding on.
" I won't always be like this. " She admits when I position myself on the other side and we start walking down the corridor. " I just need time to recover my strength and youth. "
We'll wait for you here, when you need us the most. We'll feed from your blood, your sacrifice and we'll live. We won't forget your taste.
I turn my head back when I hear the voices speaking to me. Malou looks at me with her different eyes and warns me not to pay attention to them. And so I do, throwing the voices out of my head, ignoring this warning and promise. Climbing the stairs with such a heavy weight becomes even more difficult. The magic begins to wear off when I notice that my height is beginning to decrease, Malou's shoulders are now suspended at different heights.
Lisko opens the door when I knock on it with my boot and has Niven sign the register, leaving proof that someone had released the prisoner, then slips the King's letter into a file as well. He accompanies us to the gates in the torrential rain, along with five other guards, but he doesn't say much, as if satisfied that we've taken a nuisance off his mind. The gates close roughly behind us and I can hear the locks turning. The torches outside die before my eyes, extinguished by an unseen magic, leaving us alone in the woods.
" Father! " Niven shouts into the night once she reaches the carriage. " Father! We're... here. "
Her voice trailed off as she opened the door and saw the horror. Blood. Blood everywhere and Kallus nowhere. The red liquid was dripping from the horse's neck, their life stolen from them. I turn my head from the scenery, unable to witness that cruelty.
We were trapped here.
" He's not dead. " Malou shouts over the pouring rain, leaning painfully on my shoulder. " I would've smelled it. But he's far away from this place and I think he's hurt. Badly. "
" Kallus! Where are you? " I scream, shaking violently, surrounded again by that doom.
The emptiness in my stomach grows, and I feel like banging my head against a tree as I watch the desperation with which Niven surrounds the carriage, shouting wildly through the forest. Angrily, she throws her helmet to the ground and falls to her knees, screaming again and again, calling her father. I see her shoulders moving convulsively, as if she can't catch her breath, as if she's crying and laughing at the same time. I don't even dare look into her eyes. I am afraid it will break me, so I hide my eyes when she turns to look at me.
" He is gone. " Niven says, crying, and as I watch the night creep through the wicked trees, I know the truth: Kallus was the price I had to pay.
#azriel#acotar#amren#azriel headcanons#azriel x reader#feyre#a court of fallen heroes#azriel imagine#nesta#rhysand#azriel fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#nimue#cassian x nesta#eris vanserra#eris acotar#rhysand x feyre#a court of thorns and roses#autumn court#a court of silver flames#a court of mist and fury#ao3#wattpad#elain archeron#elain x azriel
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One of my favorite Bela x OC comfort moments in my fic
"What happened to her?" Bela interrupted, slowly advancing on the two.
"W-we found her out in the courtyard. She wasn't responding to us no matter what we said, and she was hardly dressed for the cold out there. We're trying to see if she's okay now-"
"Leave. I'll handle the rest from here. Unless you're both volunteering to be sliced open." The blonde vampire said.
Both of the maids immediately understood her intentions and they quickly scuttled off. This left the two of them alone in the main hall. Bela redirected her attention back down to the subtly trembling girl. Jordan's eyes were unfocused, and even if they were open, it was obvious that she wasn't really seeing anything. From the looks of it, she was completely lost in her own head.
'Hm. You know what to do, Bela. It's just like with Daniela. Although I don't know how well she'll react.' She thought to herself.
Bela slowly moved forward and sat herself down right next to the girl. Of course, Jordan didn't react at all, and continued staring blankly ahead with her dull blue eyes. The vampire could easily see the resemblances between Jordan's current state of dissociation, and Daniela's usual sudden cases. The only difference was that with Daniela, she got incredibly violent with people who got too close to her in that moment. She would only allow her or their mother near during such times.
"Hey, Jordan. Can you hear me, cutie? You seem like you're somewhere else right now. Do you know where you are?" Bela asked, trying to look over the girls face.
Of course, there was no response. So, with the full knowledge that she couldn't get harmed if something went wrong, Bela reached out with one hand and placed it over one of Jordan's own hands that had a death grip on her leg. Once the touch was felt, Jordan flinched, but her grip relaxed and fell slightly. There was a noticeable turn of the brunettes head, but that was the extent of the reactions that were given.
"Your hands are ice cold, Jordan. And it's really saying something if I can feel that." The vampire teased softly.
She tightened her grip on Jordan's hand, and was surprised when she felt the subtle squeeze back. Looking over Jordan's face again, Bela noticed that the girl was looking up at her now. It was obvious that she wasn't entirely aware that she was staring at her. But still, it was progress. If she could get this girl to focus completely on her instead, then there was a good chance that she could break her out of her dissociative state.
"Eyes on me, Jordan. Let me be your main focus right now. Don't look at anything else but me." She said, voice but alluring and comforting.
The girl continued to stare towards her, and Bela noticed that after a few minutes, Jordan's eyes were starting to move a bit more. The light was slowly returning to them. Their hands were still locked together, even now as the girl started to regain some of her coherency. She still wasn't fully there and it was obvious due to the lack of reactions to the fact that Bela was even in front of her in the first place.
"Are you having fun playing with her, sister? Or are you just waiting for her to be awake so that you can dig your fangs into her neck?" Cassandra suddenly said, appearing behind the couch.
"How many times are you going to accuse me of things before you realize that I'm not trying to get under her skin yet. Unlike you and Daniela, I actually find her to be much more amusing when I don't have the thoughts of killing her in my head." Bela responded, glaring at the other.
Cassandra rolled her eyes and moved forward in a way that made Bela immediately suspicious. She knew her sister was one to mess around in ways that were easily inconvenient for everyone involved, and she turned out to be right. In the most childish way that was seemingly possible, Cassandra reached out with one finger and traced it down Jordan's spine, through the blanket. The reaction was immediate, and it was one that neither of them expected.
Jordan literally whimpered, and fear took over her face in an instant. But instead of pulling away from either of them, she moved forward and trapped Bela in a tight hug. Their hands had separated but since the girl was literally clinging to her with her face buried in her neck, she couldn't even think. Both her and Cassandra were frozen, but the subtle smirk on Cassandra's face is what brought her back to reality. She glared at her sister, daring her to say something.
#fanfic#resident evil 8#resident evil village#gxg#original character#daniela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#bela dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#resident evil fanfiction#lgbtq#lady dimitrescu#ao3 author
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Dinner with a scoundrel
Summary: You're a yet-unmarried woman in Regency times and you have another society dinner to attend. You meet a roguish stranger that turns the evening upside down.
Pairing: Lord Ezra X F!Reader - Regency AU
Warnings: Olympic level sassing, typical sexism of that time, mentions of food, pain-in-the-ass parents who want to marry you off, fingering. No physical description of reader apart from one mention of "cleavage" (but not breast size). Age not given but parents are clearly frustrated at reader not being married so could be anything from 20-40+ in my mind? Reader still lives with elderly parents because I have no idea how they did it in Regency times.
Rating: Mature/Explicit
A/N: This is a tongue-in-cheek smut story, you'll have to suspend your disbelief for some parts - for this story they have modern underwear, okay? We're here for a good time, not a historically accurate time. Thank you @just-here-for-the-moment for beta-ing this <3
Like this? Masterlist. Taglist link in bio!
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You stare balefully at your reflection in the mirror. You rarely pass up an opportunity to dress up and step out, but by gods tonight you are just not feeling it. Tabitha, your lady's maid, spies your lack of excitement and squeezes your shoulder.
"You would do well to have a sunny countenance tonight my lady, there will be many handsome suitors who will be vying for your attention."
You sigh deeply, the air seemingly rushing out from the very bottom of your soul.
"That's what ails me, Tabitha. Strings of uninteresting men pontificating on even more uninteresting topics while I smile like a doll on a toy chest. It is so boring."
Tabitha meets your eyes in the mirror, her eyebrows pulled low in a measure of sympathy.
"I can imagine, dear heart. But you will need to find a husband soon, your mother is grumbling about finding you a match herself. And you do look so beautiful this eve."
You smile at her wanly and look down at your dress for the evening. The deep crimson dress with the high waist frames your decolletage appealingly and the colour is well-suited to you.
A flowery brocade interwoven with miniscule jewels are shaped into a pretty second layer which frames your form and adds a certain refinement. You smooth your hands over it appreciatively and fidget with the deep rose brooch that your aunt gifted you for your last birthday.
"It is a pretty dress, I must confess. Perhaps tonight I will enjoy dancing and merriment and forget about the duties of a single girl."
As a last touch, you fasten your gold drop earrings and apply a touch more lipstick, patting a dot of shimmery powder on your Cupid's bow. If you were going to be bored out of your mind tonight, at least you would look good doing it.
The carriage stands outside waiting, your elderly parents already inside. You scramble into the small space in a decidedly unladylike fashion and take a seat next to your father. The coach starts rumbling away, swaying slightly as the wheels move over the smooth cobbles.
Trying your best to look out the window, feeling your mother's eyes boring into you, you turn her way. Unsurprisingly it looks like she has been sucking on a sour candy and she casts a disapproving eye over you.
"Are we not making any effort tonight m'dear? Do you expect that a well-to-do Duke or Viscount will spare you a glance when you offer so little as a companion?"
Your mother and you grated each other's nerves in turn. The two of you had a good relationship when you were growing up but she was the equivalent of the ‘popular’ girl in society when she was a young woman. She was courted by the well-known eligible bachelors in the kingdom. She had everyone eating out of her hand back in the day.
The fact that you were completely unbothered by the societal structure and its obsession with marrying you off to the first man to look at you stuck in her craw in a way that made her passive aggressive nature flare up like a fire taking to kindling.
“No, I expect a well-to-do Duke or Viscount to stop talking to me because they’re as interesting and attractive as wallpaper paste. Can’t I just find someone who I like?”
Then, tired of being accosted before even being greeted and with exasperation bleeding into your tone, you added: “Leave me in peace, Mother. You snip all day long and it only serves to wound me.”
Your Mother, now suitably chastised and very unhappy about it, turns her head to look out the window. The clack-clack of the carriage on the road is only punctuated by her mumbling to herself about her spoiled child who has never had to face the realities of being alone for the rest of their life.
The coach eventually rolls to a stop in front of an impressive-looking mansion, the entrance already buzzing with other guests filing into the entrance. Footmen and servants bustle around them to attend to their every need. The next moment, the coach door swings open, and a footman comes into view, his gloved hand reaching out to help you down the two tiny steps of the carriage.
Once your parents disembark, you smooth your dress down again to look slightly less crumpled from the ride over. Walking ahead of your parents, you make your way inside and join the line of guests waiting to be announced.
At the top of the staircase, the host announces your party and you make your way down the stairs slowly, a few heads turning in your direction. As you descend, you mentally note the usual crowd that are also in attendance for this ball.
Lady Eleanor Fitzwilliam and her son Daniel, the most ineligible of bachelors due to a case of fainting spells and an overbearing mother. You pitied him on some level; the fainting spells could be treated but you could sympathise with the maternal problems, which were unlikely to go away on their own.
Twins Simon and Cecilia Heatherwell-Boden, two of the nastiest pieces of work you were going to find on any guest list. Perpetual gossips and not above spreading malicious rumours, this twosome is best given a wide berth.
Mary Isabella Winchester, now there is a peach. Sweet in demeanor and intention, you sometimes felt a twinge of envy at her. You were good acquaintances, but she seemed to swan through life without any challenges or difficulty, while maintaining her wide-eyed, innocent sensibility.
Turning at the bottom of the stairs, you reach out to take the proffered red wine from the waitron. And as night follows day, the first sip of the lovely burgundy blend is soured by the appearance of Sir Hugh Wellesley. A smarmy man who thought the height of fashion was his cow-lick of a fringe plastered to his forehead, and a trail of cologne that felt like a sensory assault up to 5 yards away.
You took an impolitely long sip of the wine before allowing him to greet you.
“My, you do look fetching this evening; much too pleasing among all the old ladies and lords. Aren’t you getting tired of these old bores?” he says.
He laughs conspiratorially and it is evident the irony is lost on him. The stare that follows is on the uncomfortable edge of lascivious and you can feel your hackles rising at the impertinent gesture. He continues.
“I hope you will grace me with a dance later?”
You hold up your finger in a sign for him to wait. With the other hand, you make a show of sticking your hand between the swell of your breasts, rooting around a little.
“My lady, whatever are you doing? He asks hurriedly, nearly breathless with consternation.
“I’m fishing your eyeballs out of my cleavage, it’s been in there for the last few minutes and I would rather like them back on your face as good manners dictate.”
You smile at him - sugar laced with arsenic - and he pales before making up some excuse about going to see Sir Podlington standing by the window.
From behind you, you hear a voice, the gentle lilting accent immediately setting it apart from everyone else.
“Such a tongue lashing will surely break skin on lesser men. I would endeavour to stay on your good side should I dare a compliment in future.”
“Bold of you to assume we will meet again after tonight, Sir….” you trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.
“You can call me Lord Ezra.”
You curtsy stiffly. “Lord Ezra” and you introduce yourself to him.
He takes your hand and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles; your eyes following the plush curve of his lips on your skin and for the first time you feel an inkling of the night perhaps not being a complete loss.
"Are you joining the other gentlemen in the hunt for a dear wife, or is it pure chance that you're taking your leisure here this evening?"
Ezra can’t help the flash of teeth as he catches your glib comment. You are arresting, a crimson rose with thorns in a dreary garden of magnolias, safe and chastened.
If he is being completely honest with himself, you’re also a brat, unused to being on the back foot, and he was nothing if not a betting man.
"Tis leisure, but by my own misfortune I have been corralled by every mother to meet a simpering, sweet daughter that I have no taste for."
He secretly hopes you would take the bait, the double entendre tantalising as it leaves his tongue.
You lift one eyebrow in question, intrigued by his choice of words.
"Does sweet and simpering not suit you, Lord Ezra? Perhaps your taste lies more in ladies who spend time on their knees and backs and require coin in lieu of skill from their lovers?"
He chuckles heartily at your barbs. Not at all discouraged, he presses on.
"Coin is but a function of my profession, dear lady. It says naught about my skill."
A laugh bubbles up from your throat, a light, airy thing that hangs between you for a few moments.
"I cannot comment on your skill, but profess it to surely be lacking if there is no lady on your arm who enjoys its benefit. Peer endorsement is such a thing, isn't it just?"
You smile at him impishly. You just impugned his honour as a man and lover and he is just standing there laughing at you. The next move is his, and you wait patiently.
Lord Ezra feels a tingle of excitement simmering in his belly. While you are quick with words, your inexperience shows. With a smile firmly on his lips, he takes in the fast heartbeat in the hollow of your throat, the excited little breaths escaping your lips between laughs. The way your eyes trail him, oh don’t think he doesn't notice. He can still feel your soft skin under his lips. He wants to tease you to the edge of ruin and watch you throw yourself off it.
The next moment, the dinner bell rings out and guests start drifting towards the stately dining room. A long, ornately decorated table dominates the high-ceilinged space, crystal chandeliers hanging down like droplets from a waterfall, the glass clinking gently as the open doors let through the lightest of breezes.
The table settings suggest that no expense is spared, the silverware polished to a bright gleam and the plates pristine and placed just so, down to the last measurement.
Place cards with neat calligraphy grace every table setting, and as you take a seat at your designated place, you see Lord Ezra smoothly sliding into the seat right next to you.
You peer over at the place setting. Lady Fitzwilliam is not going to be pleased with the usurper - you pin him with a look and then nod meaningfully at the card. Lord Ezra follows your eyes, smirks roguishly and then tosses the offending card over his shoulder.
You can’t help but be amused and a little intrigued. Of course, the untamed curls that gathers in the nape of his neck, and the way he fills out the longer, black silk-woven coat that is so fashionable right now is dashing.
He places his right hand on the table while the left reaches out for his wine glass - he takes a generous sip and you follow the gentle press of his full lips against the glass. He’s an enigma - well groomed but wild, a gentleman with a taste for dangerous disregard. You wonder why you haven’t seen him at other society events.
During the soup course, he leans over to you, his mouth pleasingly warm from the meal as his lips brush the shell of your ear.
“It is my unfortunate luck to dine on such mild meals when the most exotic mouthful is right next to me."
You grin at him. “Lord Ezra you forget yourself, do not make assumptions about my interest.”
Like a Cheshire cat, his teeth gleam in the low light when he smiles. His eyes are on the middle distance as he speaks.
“My lady, I believe that it will be you who forgets herself, her name and her oblivious objections.”
With his words you feel your dress skim up your thigh and the next moment there are fingers tracing from your knee up towards the crease of your leg.
A knowing smile unfurls across your lips. You're no stranger to teasing and with those hands? Shifting forward just an inch, you widen your legs a little more, encouraging him to trail further.
Lord Ezra revels in the enthusiastic consent; under so many pairs of eyes this is the best you can do and his eyes glint mischievously.
His long fingers languidly trail up and down your thigh, letting the short nails scrape deliciously against the sensitive skin on each upstroke. You inch forward a little more as you relax into it, but Lord Ezra is infuriating in his patience and pace.
The salad course arrives. His fingers trail all the way up to your clothed apex and he flicks his thumb out and presses the ball of it to your damp underclothes. The angle is precise and devastating.
The sudden pressure on your throbbing clit almost makes you gasp as you're bringing the salad fork to your lips. The gold glints mockingly in the low light of the chandelier, daring you to be quiet. His thumb increases and decreases pressure slightly, creating a gentle pulsing motion that feels like nothing and everything at once.
You steal a glance at Lord Ezra, who is quietly biting into a plump cherry tomato with gusto. A few moments later, the wait staff take the salad plates away, and he mercifully stops the light pulsating pressure but doesn’t retract his hand.
He leans over again just as the next dish of fish is placed in front of you.
“It is advised to be careful with this course. So many bones, a peril each. Any disturbance could find you choking so attention is of the utmost importance.”
You take a bite of fish, thinking that he would surely need to concentrate on the meal in front of him. But just as you start chewing, his thumb moves away, and you feel his middle finger slip in the front of your underclothes, pulling at it. He raises an eyebrow at you in question, as if to ask if you want to continue. Wordlessly, you lift yourself an inch so he can slip the offending garment out from under your ass.
It takes a while for you to feel his hand again but when you do, it’s rubbing your slick all over your clit and dipping his fingertip into your wet heat. The gentle breach makes you inhale sharply, when you remember Lord Ezra’s warning from earlier and you try to breathe evenly through your nose. It proves to be extremely difficult under his patient but relentless attention.
He’s skillfully picking at the flaky meat in front of him, dragging it slowly through the butter-and-dill sauce and bringing it to his lips. The calm exterior betrays the traitorously skillful way his large finger plays at your entrance and clit, dipping and swirling, exerting just enough pressure and movement to keep you on edge.
Sir Worthington, balding and lightly intoxicated, leans over to Lord Ezra and asks a question. You only see your companion nod his head a few times to show he’s listening before he answers the man. Without apparently paying attention to you above the table cloth, he wordlessly assures you he has not forgotten about you as his finger dips in deeper, languidly moving it until he is knuckle deep and grazing that spot within that you never manage to reach yourself.
Sweat starts to bead on your brow from the sheer effort of looking neutral and you start wolfing down the rest of your meal to stop yourself from moaning out loud.
Your mother pins you with a stare, from a few settings over, that could make a cactus wilt. Her lips are drawn into a tight line of disapproval as she eyes your plate and then your face, clearly very unhappy with the unbecoming way you’re stuffing your face. If she only knew.
Lord Ezra straightens back up, and the servants come to take the plates away a second time. As the servant lifts the plate away from in front of you, you notice him looking over at you, mischief dancing in his eyes.
You’re wrecked. This is the game he enjoys most - the barely-controlled breathing, the light trembling of soft thighs that frame a cunt that has been teased to within an inch of tolerance. He loves it. But you’re not tamed yet, he can see it in your eyes.
The dessert course, a strawberry merengue nest laden with berry syrup, is placed in front of diners.
You wait for Lord Ezra to lean over to you again but to your surprise, he doesn’t. He takes a bite of the merengue and while it melts on his tongue, slowly adds another finger to the already soaked one in your cunt. Your eyes shutter for a second at the delicious intrusion before they shoot open and you look at him pleadingly. You don’t know if you’re asking for more or less.
As you bring your spoon to the dessert, he moves his hand, slowly pushing in, then dragging the two thick fingers out again. It feels incredible and you struggle to remember what it was you were doing.
Lord Ezra hums appreciatively as he chews on a berry. You’re so wet he can feel your slick coating his hand to the wrist. Perhaps it is time now.
After a few thrusts of his fingers, he pushes the heel of his hand against your engorged clit and you hiss loudly.
Lady Podlington, to your other side, leans over and asks you “Are you quite alright dear?”
Oh god, this is the last thing you need while Lord Ezra is chasing you to a devastating finish. You make up a quick white lie.
“The berries are quite tart, are they not? I have not tasted any as acidic this summer. ‘Tis good that there is so much syrup.”
Lord Ezra, thinking of a different kind of sticky-and-sweet altogether, chuckles lightly on your other side. The sound makes your cunt clench around his fingers.
He’s relentless now. Thrust after thrust, he curls his fingers up to rub at that devastating spot, the heel of his hand gently pressing at your clit with every upstroke. You feel the familiar coiling in your belly, hot and overwhelming.
But also panic, because you’re going to have your most intense orgasm ever with 40 onlookers.
Anxiously, you feel the coil inside you stretch and stretch and you know you have a few seconds at best until you’re a writhing mess.
You spot a fruit bowl nearby, and grabbing a peach, vault it over to the other side of the dining table, where it splashes loudly into an open soup tureen. The splash covers a handful of diners, and dismayed gasps and the scraping of chairs fill the dining hall. Luckily the ruckus directs all eyes to the offending disaster.
Your cunt convulses painfully hard around Lord Ezra’s fingers, and you grab the tablecloth with the hand that isn’t clapped around your mouth to stop the loud moan from escaping. You try, but fail, to stop your hips from chasing his fingers.
Lord Ezra revels in the moment your eyes pinch closed, your frown lines cease and your mouth forms an appealing “o” before you manage to cover it with your hand. You’re beautiful in your uncontrolled moment of bliss, and he slows down to work you through it.
When your eyes open and your breathing returns to normal, he slowly extracts his hand from your heat, still lightly clenching in the aftershocks of a devastating climax. Not unkindly, he rubs a wet thumb over the side of your knee while his hand is on it, an act of reassurance and a wordless truce.
You look over at him, your eyes blown out from pleasure, your chest heaving. Through parted lips you smile in defeat. You watch as he brings his hand up and sucks his finger into his mouth, swallowing your slick off it. He hums again, eyes closing in enjoyment for the barest moment.
“The sweetest honey is harvested from the most dangerous bees; someone will need to inform the cook that his efforts this eve have been outshone. Wouldn’t you agree?”
---
Comments are reblogs are appreciated <3
#ezra prospect x reader#ezra fanfiction#ezra x reader#ezra x fem!reader#ezra x f!reader#prospect fanfiction#regency au#pedro pascal character fic#pedro pascal fics#pedro pascal fanfiction
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Anyone is free to share a thought and write their own version of this story, that's the reason why I put this post up. To let countless of beautiful minds to be creative, to make this AU their own; as long as you give credit of course! I would be delighted to read all of them. So unleash all of your thoughts, love!
I can't write for the life of me but imagine a fantasy world where the moon bois were the cursed!crown prince cause they didn't have the medical knowledge and maybe they're somehow a demon? Idk 😩
It would set in a medieval timeline and we (the reader) is an assassin who disguise ourself as his new maid.
We'd have all the qualities of a killing machine- cold and calculated, knows how to use our sex to advantages, manipulate, gatekeep and girlbossing our way to murder.
My god- just imagine us sneaking inside their bedroom, we'd get on top of him, sitting still on their stomach as we pull a dagger from our thigh strap as we aim for his neck.
Steven was the one who woke up and stare at us, eyes wide with admiration as the moonlight illuminates our face, highlighting our eyes and we'd stare deep into each other's eyes while the dagger touching his adam apple dangerously.
"Beautiful." He says out loud, we roll our eyes in amusement and tries to push the dagger only to be pinned down by Marc as he glare at us, face dangerously close that we can feel his breath on our face.
THE TROUPE WOULD BE SOMETHING LIKE:
Pretend engagement, forbidden love, the guy only kneels for his girl, destined to be together, I hate everyone but you, belated love epiphany.
Magic, magic, magic and more magic because I wanna be a magician/sorcerer. It's cool ok- 🏃🏃🏃
Steven: friends to lovers, he's warm, he's kind and he always tries to see the better in us, always forgiving us and give us many chances to make it up to him.
Marc: enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine. Marc being the grumpy, cold and rude to us, literally hate us because we tried to kill him while we're the sunshine and we'd be really flirty with him, always getting on his nerve and annoying him.
Now onto jake, I honestly feel like he's very unhinged and smooth because we've seen how he shamelessly seduced that nurse and dragged Harrow out. So maybe the dynamic that we have would probably be enemies to lovers like Marc but instead Jake being flirty with us and we'd also be like that, we'd amuse and entertain each other in ways that no one can.
But Jake is really dangerous and fucking feral, I want him to be the possessive n UNHINGED lover. The kind that wont hesitate to kill/hurt anyone that touches us. And we knows it so we sometimes be on high guard and switch to our assassin's persona, u know on how we'd be on edge because he makes us uneasy and stuff, unlike Marc and Steven we didn't know what's on Jake's mind and what does he think of us. But oh do we love to see him in all his maniacal glory, got us feelin' some type of way. 😏😏😏
She fell first but he fell harder for both Jake and Marc please bcs >>>>
The words that I would love to squeeze inside the fic:
1. "Kiss me- and this time don't fucking stop."
2. "Where is home?" "With me."
3. "I can't stop-" "Then don't."
4. "Touch them and you die."
5. "Are you mine?" "All yours."
6 "You look so pretty like this." "Only for you."
7. "The problem with me is you."
9. "If I kill them right before your eyes, will you still stay?" "Always, without a doubt."
10. "WHO DID THIS TO YOU?"
11. "I'm not a gentleman." "Lucky for you I'm not into them."
12. "You like what you see, Darlin'?"
13. "I'm supposed to hate you." "And yet- here we are."
14. "Do I make you nervous, Lockley/Spector/Grant?"
15. "You think you can intimidate me?"
16. "I hate myself for loving you, but I loathe the thought of not having you more."
17. "I love the way you make me feel." "Even when I'm trying to kill you?" "Especially that."
18. "I will burn the whole world down- just for you. You only need to say the word."
19. "What have I told you about you and your orders?"
20. "I hate you." "That's not what you said last night, sweetheart."
21. "Say it again, I love the way you say my name."
22. "You really has no fear." "Thanks for the compliment."
23. "I want to hurt you so bad." "I want to see you try."
24. "I like when you get mad."
25. "Don't look at me like that."
26. "The things I would do to you."
SOMEONE OR MAYBE MULTIPLE AUTHORS COULD WRITE THIS SERIES AND MAKE THEIR OWN VERSIONS??? I WOULD LOVE IT SO MUCH IF THAT HAPPENS OMG!!! ANYWAY- PLEASE WRITE OR TAG SOMEONE WHO WOULD BECAUSE I CAN'T WRITE GAAHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭
#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#moon knight#moon knight x reader#jake lockley x reader#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#moon knight fanfiction#medieval#fantasy#assasin#cursed!crown prince#mira's thoughts#miras's brainrot#oscar isaac hernandez estrada#oscar isaac#steven grant x you#x female reader
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Birth rates/Fertility rates Are Not A Real Issue
I wanted to talk about this because there is a kind of casual acceptance among many that these rates are a real issue and it simply is not. We see nationalists across the world proclaiming their low rates of people boning down and having kidos speaking of this as if it was an issue. It is simply part of the domain of right wing conservatives yet there are many across the isles who casually accept the concept even if their proposed solution is like idk step your game up men or something. We do not even need to go that far because once again it isn't a real issue. The context on why people are having kids less in each individual country and demographic are different but they share a fundamental truth, it's no one's fucking reasonability to have babies.
The least fascist proposal on why this is an issue go as such "We need younger people to come into the work force, we need them to take care of us when we are elderly". This is untrue, we do not need kids to take care of us nor do we need to replace the work force. If there was less people we'd need less things and it's no one's job to be born just to take care of people. The reality is if we die, we die, everyone dies and the fact some rich dude isn't going to have some young hot maids is not an issue. We could be building a future where no one needs to worry about money and people could simply live in a home at peace. We made up money, we made up all these issues that we allegedly need young people for.
We're not entering a zero babies situation and so many of the issues that stop people from having children are because the state is removing rights from people who want to have children and capitalisms death grip on people. So it is both not an issue and also extremely easy to fix. End systemic homopobia, transphobia, and sexism and bam a lot of the reasons why people can't have kids lest their lives be ruined across the world are done. Then end capitalism and now way more people would have kids because they would have them without entering ruin. These things created by states and enforced by states are creating their own issue.
Now the real reasons behind so much of this is racism be it Japan's "Crisis" whilst basically allowing zero immigrants to become citizens then daring to complain about low birth rates when many would gladly move to even the increasingly barren country sides if they could come from their countries in conflict and get to live a life of dignity or the white worlds fear of a great replacement of white people being breed out of being the majorities of their colonial states. The reality is we're seeing tons of people who want to leave their country because these powerful countries have ravaged their lands and come to one of the more powerful countries, this would have people who wanted to do labor anyway not that they should owe us that given ya know the whole reason they had to flee their home to begin with. It is simply that racism and nationalism create a problem and then even the most simple solution "let more people live here" becomes a "Not like that" situation.
So ya, that's it, just wanted to briefly say fuck you to anyone throwing up birthrates be them talking about it in South Korea or White Brits. If you like my shit you can check my Patreon and Ko-fi out but otherwise ya know go on with your day and have agency over your body, life and soul.
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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 2: The Welcome
Spoiler alert: I forgot to discuss chapter icons last time. It's terrible, breaking such a successful streak. I have toh. If you don't know what that is, be aware, because I'm perfectly happy to spoil everything about this whole damn series if you're not careful. Look away if that bothers you.
Anyway, chapter icons. Last time was another wheel and serpent, which probably reflects both how Rand is being pulled by the Pattern to stay put despite his desires and how the Dark One's touch is beginning to corrupt it more blatantly with the proto-bubble. This time we get the Flame of Tar Valon, because the Amyrlin Seat is visiting.
“Ho, southlander! The Amyrlin’s here. Come for you and your friends, I suppose. Peace, what honor for you! She seldom leaves Tar Valon, and she’s never come to the Borderlands in my memory.”
A) This and several other bits of dialogue is a delightful way for the denizens of the fortress to be tormenting Rand about the trap that he's found himself caught in without realizing it (one of my favorite kinds of dialogue).
B) I can't help but feel that this is another bit of failure on the part of the Tower. An Amyrlin who tours the continent regularly and brings a retinue with her would be yet another way to be building positive relations with the populace, helping them and encouraging them not to see the Aes Sedai as wicked witches. Hopefully it's something they pick up on as the Fourth Age goes on.
The women barely glanced at him, and went right on clearing his clothes—and Mat’s and Perrin’s—out of the wardrobe and replacing them with new. Anything found in the pockets was put atop the chests, and the old clothes were bundled up carelessly, like rags.
I don't know if this is Moiraine's outright shittiest act as mentor, but damn if it's not up there. You know who else pulls this crap in this series? Tylin, because it's abusive as all hell. Moiraine had a fucking month to get the boys fancier clothes in less coercive ways and if she'd done it shortly after the Eye it wouldn't have even been a hard sell because Rand and Perrin would have been happy to wear comfy new clothes after the hell month they went through (Mat would have been an easy sell regardless once he saw something with lace; would have been harder to get him not to empty Moiraine's purse at that point).
It could be a scullion or the Lady Amalisa, Lord Agelmar’s sister herself—the baths were one place in Shienar where there was no rank—expecting him to scrub her back in return for the same favor, asking him why his face was so red, had he taken too much sun? They had soon learned to recognize his blushes for what they were, and not a woman in the keep but seemed fascinated by them.
We're supposed to laugh at the provincial bumpkin for not understanding how awesome it is that he's getting to bathe with regulation hotties, but really between this and the maids expecting him to change out of his underwear in front of him (and making a point to look) is just way too skeevy.
His boots, at least, were certainly still good, made by Alwyn al’Van, the cobbler back in Emond’s Field, and well broken in and comfortable. But if giving up his boots would make the shatayan leave him alone so he could go, he would give her the boots, and anything else she wanted. He had no time.
It is way too early in these books for me to feel this bad for Rand.
Light help me! Was it Amalisa had this made, or Moiraine? How many saw it? How many know what it is, what it means? Even one is too many. Burn me, she’s trying to get me killed. Bloody Moiraine won’t even talk to me, but now she’s given me bloody fine new clothes to die in!
It's absolutely incredible how badly Moiraine is handling this. Is she just conceptualizing this as being the same as how she had to wear novice robes as a girl? Did Elaida's personal tutoring before Moiraine's becoming an Aes Sedai get a nice cycle of abuse going for her to perpetuate?
Muttering under his breath, he dressed hurriedly. He would not put it past any of them to find some excuse to come bulling in anyway.
Just like Donald Trump.
He had seen women picking out embroidery when they had made a mistake or changed their mind on the pattern, and it did not look very hard.
Rand, you spent your entire childhood including your most significant growth spurts living in the backwoods of the ass end of nowhere with no one except your dad. I can understand embroidery not being your thing because it's not utilitarian, but you should damn well know that there's a difference between fixing your work before it's done and ripping out embroidery after the fact.
Thom Merrilin had taught him to play that flute, before the gleeman died. Rand could never touch it without remembering Thom, with his sharp blue eyes and his long white mustaches, shoving the bundled cloak into his hands and shouting for him to run. And then Thom had run himself, knives appearing magically in his hands as if he were performing, to face the Myrddraal that was coming to kill them.
Dammit Rand, Moiraine told you that the odds of Thom being dead were literally zero in infinity, stop thinking he's dead.
His unstrung bow stood propped in the corner with Mat’s and Perrin’s, the stave two hands taller than he was. He had made it himself since coming to Fal Dara, and besides him, only Lan and Perrin could draw it. Stuffing his blanketroll and his new cloak through the loops on his bundles, he slung the pair from his left shoulder, tossed his saddlebags atop the cords, and grabbed the bow. Leave the sword-arm free, he thought. Make them think I’m dangerous. Maybe somebody will.
The funny part is, Rand actually does look dangerous now. Lan told him that bullies would leave him alone. He never believes anything anyone tells him, it's no wonder no one tries to communicate with him later on.
He would never see legendary Tar Valon—he could not afford that risk, now or ever—but he might catch a glimpse of the Amyrlin Seat before he left. That would be as much as seeing a queen.
Rand's getting pulled around by the Pattern again, since he's already met a queen in person and you'd think he'd have learned his lesson from that.
He could easily see over the heads of most of them, enough to make out clearly what was going on in the courtyard. Just inside the main gate, a line of men stood beside their horses, fourteen of them.
...
A dozen paces in front of the Warders, a row of women stood by their horses’ heads, the cowls of their cloaks thrown back. He could count them, now. Fourteen. Fourteen Aes Sedai.
Funny that there's an equal number of Warders to Aes Sedai, since that isn't a guarantee. We don't know all the Aes Sedai among the ranks, but we do know that at least two (Liandrin and Carlinya) didn't have Warders, possibly three (Serafelle's never clarified either way). Alanna is the only green we know about and she has two Warders, which covers for one of the gaps. Possibly Siuan's Warder is in the ranks here as well, which covers the other gap for certain. Also note that Leane is not one of these fourteen Aes Sedai, which means that sixteen came altogether counting her and Siuan. Regardless, I'm not tagging anyone except those mentioned individually.
Suddenly Ronan rapped his staff loudly three times on the broad paving stones, calling into the silence, “Who comes here? Who comes here? Who comes here?”
The woman beside the palanquin tapped her staff three times in reply. “The Watcher of the Seals. The Flame of Tar Valon. The Amyrlin Seat.”
“Why should we watch?” Ronan demanded.
“For the hope of humankind,” the tall woman replied.
“Against what do we guard?”
“The shadow at noon.”
“How long shall we guard?”
“From rising sun to rising sun, so long as the Wheel of Time turns.”
We see so little of pomp and circumstance in these books despite humanity's love of silly rituals that I gotta quote in full the stuff that does show up. Also note how the ritual emphasizes the shadow as something wrong and fundamentally against the natural order. It's understandable why Rand came to the conclusion he had to kill the Dark One.
The tall woman drew back the curtain of the palanquin, and the Amyrlin Seat stepped out. Dark-haired, ageless as all Aes Sedai were ageless, she ran her eyes over the assembled watchers as she straightened. Rand flinched when her gaze crossed him; he felt as if he had been touched. But her eyes passed on and came to rest on Lord Agelmar.
Rand honey, you're the only Aielman in two hundred miles and you're the tallest man in the room. Of course she saw you.
He did not want to think of what would have happened if she knew who he was, what he was. What would happen when she finally found out. He wondered if she had had anything to do with the wind atop the tower; Aes Sedai could do things like that.
Rand is so completely wrong about Siuan on every level that it wraps around from stupid to adorable to stupid again. No Rand, the Amyrlin Seat didn't try to assassinate you from a distance through her magic scrying mirror. That's not even a thing.
It was his name that caused the problem, and a similarity. Rand al’Thor. Al’Lan Mandragoran. For Lan, according to the custom of Malkier, the royal “al” named him King, though he never used it himself. For Rand, “al” was just a part of his name, though he had heard that once, long ago, before the Two Rivers was called the Two Rivers, it had meant “son of.” Some of the servants in Fal Dara keep, though, had taken it to mean he was a king, too, or at least a prince.
No doubt in Manetheren "al" did mean royalty and only transferred to "son of" once the interbreeding led to it being so common a name.
“Yes, my Lord. The order came down only a short time ago. Only moments.” Tema’s voice picked up strength. “All the gates are closed as well, my Lord. None may enter or leave without permission. Not even the city patrol, so Tema has been told.”
Poor Rand, if he'd only controlled himself he would have arrived before the order and could have escaped. What a horribly unlikely coincidence!
Rand broke into a run. He just had time to see the surprise on Tema’s face, and then he was gone. He did not care what Tema thought. She will be sending for me now.
Rand, you know what would really make Tema think you were normal, unremarkable, and definitely not the Dragon Reborn? If you spent some time muttering to yourself or maybe burst into tears for no reason. Not a single male channeler in the world does that.
Ah well. Next time, we'll watch Rand try and fail to escape his date with destiny.
#let's read#wheel of time#wot#robert jordan#wheel of time spoilers#wot spoilers#rand al'thor#leane sharif#agelmar jagad#siuan sanche
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