#Mistress Mare-Do-Well
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Her Grace's Handmaiden. Pt3
(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Jaime Lannister: SMUT threesome, voyerism, praise kink, oral (Male receiving) )
AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340
After the event with the mare, the queen saw fit that you would be given basic riding lessons.
"Right, now just do exactly as he says" Cersei emphasized. "No second guessing or backtalk. Treat him as you would me."
"Of course, Your Grace" You were wrapped in a thin wool cloak and worn leather boots, bracing against the chill of the coming autumn. The summer had to end sometime, you supposed.
"My brother is being very generous, offering to teach you." Cersei reminded you.
"I am very grateful for the help" You kept your eyes trained ahead, not wanted to see presumptuous by looking at the queen too much or talking too much.
It was bizarre, two high-borns taking such an interest in someone like you. It made you uneasy, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"I certainly don't to embarrass myself more than I already have."
Jaime was waiting for you by the stables, dressed in sturdy riding leather. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes and was brushed back with a gloved hand before he spotted your approach and smiled charmingly.
"Sweet sister" he greeted Cersei before resting his pale green eyes on you "And your new plaything."
"Now Jaime" Cersei chided him, "Be nice, Y/N isn't used to your teasing like I am."
"She will be" Jaime smirked at you, watching the blush creep up your neck and across your face. "Come, let's get started."
"I'll be waiting with the party, my dear." Cersei touched your shoulder, quickening your pulse as you whipped around.
"Your Grace, you're leaving?"
"Rest assured, you are in good hands" The queen insisted, flashing you a cryptic smile. "Good luck"
"Charming, isn't she?" Jaime came from behind you, watching as his sister left you to your own devices. "Come now, the faster we start, the faster you can stop being bullied by Clegane and that rabid stallion of his."
Eager to stand (er, ride) on your own two feet, you followed him before realizing there was only one horse readied.
"Uh, Ser?"
"You didn't think I'd jump to letting you ride on your own that quickly, did you?" Jaime practically laughed in your face. "Here, you first."
"I..." you gawked at the saddle the horse was set with. "You mean riding astride?"
"Something wrong with it?"
You thought for a moment before embracing your mistress's request to trust the knight.
"No, not at all"
He hoisted you up onto the back of his sturdy mount before swinging his legs up behind you. You swallowed a gasp, suddenly finding yourself pressed between the pommel of the saddle and Ser Jaime's chest.
"Let's get into some open terrain so you have space to learn"
Before you could protest, the knight had set the beast off at a quick gallop, one hand gripping the reigns and the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you from falling off.
Once you were well away from the party and in a broad scope of field, Jaime stopped the horse.
"Now," He handed you the reigns and without preamble place two solid hands on your shoulders. "The first thing to know about proper horse riding is your posture. You want to guide the beast properly? You have to sit it properly."
He gently guided your shoulder back, straightening your spine in the process.
"Now there's a saying my riding master taught me as a boy. And while it may seem forward, I need you to trust me."
Your skin prickled at the near constant contact between your bodies but tried to push it down and focus on the lesson. "Her Grace insisted you were the best. You have my full trust, Ser."
"Good Girl" Jaime praised in a tone that almost melted into a purr. "Now the first thing you want to remember about riding a horse is; Shoulders like a Soldier..."His hands slid from your shoulders, down your arms, before coming to rest on your hips. "and Hips like a Whore."
"Ser!" You gasped but Jaime tutted you into submission.
"I warned you it was forward, but just trust me." He soothed, "Now I am going to drive the horse forward slowly, and I want you to just-" His grip on your hips tightened "Follow the motion."
The beast began to move forward at a gentle walk and as the they went; Jaime's hands slowly guided your hips to match the motion of the horse's gait.
"A little faster?" He asked and you nodded, growing in confidence.
The walk turned to a trot, and the trot to a brisk cantor, and finally to a full gallop which left you breathless, clinging to the horse with your thighs as if you might fall off at any moment.
"Very good" Jaime practically cooed in your ear, slowing the beast back down to a peaceful trop. "You are everything my sister promised."
You beamed at that, proud to have lived up to your mistress's praises.
As your breath returned to you, you began to notice something different. Something that hadn't been there when you started your ride.
A hardness pressed against your ass, brushing up against you with the motion of the beast below you.
"S-ser Jaime." You swallowed. "We should go-"
"Go back, so soon?" Jaime crooned, pulling you closer to him in the saddle and bringing the horse back to a quick trot. "It's a lovely day, we should take advantage of it"
The hardness grew, and you tried not to notice until you felt it twitch slightly and Jaime muffled a moan in his throat.
"I don't think Her Grace would-"
"Would what?" Jaime grinned knowingly at your confused tone. "Sweetling, why do you think she left you out here all alone with me?"
"Because she trusts you, you're her brother."
"Hm" Jaime's hands massaged your hips slowly, running over your soft thighs and even venturing around to the front to cup your sex through your skirt.
You gasped at the sudden touch, pulse pounding as his two fingers skillfully located your slit and began to rub gently through the fabric of your dress.
"Ser" You breathed, trying to organize your thoughts as Jaime pulled your hips back to him, your back flush against his chest, rubbing slow circles through your skirt with the tips of his fingers.
"Just relax, sweetling" He breathed into your ear, "If you get too excited, the horse will sense it. Then we're both in trouble."
"We shouldn't..."
"I don't see you stopping me." He pointed out, hips continuing to brush the length of his cock against your ass. "All I feel is your body heating up against mine. Are you getting excited?"
"Oh Gods." Without thinking, you scrambled off the horse, falling onto your back as you did so.
Jaime laughed out loud, dismounting skillfully and grabbing you by the ankle before you could run for camp.
"Easy, easy girl" He chuckled, batting off you attempts to kick him like they were nothing. "Just calm down."
"The Queen will know." You gasped, heart suddenly pounding. "Her Grace, she trusted me, she's done so much for me, and now I'm here with you and she'll be so angry."
Hot tears began to stream down your face as you began to panic. Jaime paled, not expecting this to go this badly as he attempted to shush your sobs.
"No, no, no, Darling. Just listen, just listen" He tried to grab your attention. "Look, we'll go back to camp. We'll see my sister. Everything will be okay; I swear to you."
Not quite believing him and half convinced your mistress would abandon you here in the wilderness as soon as she heard, you wiped your tears and nodded.
Jaime gathered you in his arms and guided you back to the horse and ferried you both back to the party. He did his best to hide your distress from everyone else as you approached the queen's royal caravan.
"Enter." Cersei turned eagerly as her brother entered, giddy to see how her plan unfolded before her face fell. "What happened?"
Jaime opened his mouth to explain but before he could, you fell to your knees and bowed lowly.
"Your Grace," You sobbed into the ground. "I'm so sorry, I have failed you and betrayed you. I am not worthy of your mercy, but I beg for it all the same."
"I-" Cersei starred at Jaime who shook his head, shrugging in a helpless fashion. "Jaime, what did you do?"
"Exactly what you told me to do, I swear." Jaime insisted,
"Oh" Cersei's mind clicked with understanding and an amused smile crept across her face. "Oh, Y/N. You stupid little thing. Get up."
You obeyed, wiping your tears as the Queen knelt down to look at you.
"Y/N, I sent you out with Jaime *hoping* he would seduce you."
"What?"
"Yes, sweetling." She laughed, "You've been so good for me these last few weeks, and I wanted to reward you. You foolish girl, look at you worked up over nothing. Don't you feel ridiculous?"
You did, ridiculous and embarrassed and ashamed.
"Ser Jaime, I owe you an apology." You couldn't meet his eye, "Her Grace told me to trust you and instead I took you for a villain. Please forgive me?"
"I suppose I can." The knight nodded. "Though you did leave me in quite the uncomfortable position."
"Oh" a blush flooded your face again. "I'm sorry."
"Sweetling" Cersei placed a hand on the top of your head, "You aren't thinking of denying my reward for you, are you?"
"I-" The words caught in your throated. "Your Grace, I-. But-"
"Jaime, come here." Cersei beckoned her brother closer, leaning in to whisper in your ear, "You haven't quite earned the privilege of my bed yet. Treat Ser Jaime as you would me."
Your instructions were clear, and if it pleased your mistress, you were more than happy to comply.
Cersei's nimble hands reached forward to undo the laces of Jaime's trousers, pushing you forward to do the rest as she returned to the chaise with an eager gleam in her eye.
"Have you ever bedded a man before?" Jaime asked and you nodded. It had only been once, but you remembered how everything worked.
Peeling through layers of fabric, you freed the knight's semi-hard cock from his small clothes and scooted closer to him on your knees. A deep rumble of a groan filled the caravan as you took the tip in your mouth, sucking gently before taking more and more length down your throat. Before long, the tip of your nose was buried in the patch of fine blond hair at the base.
"Gods" Jaime breathed, a hand reaching down to grasp at your hair. "Gently, darling gent-" His words caught in his throat as you drew your tongue up the length of him before swiftly taking it whole, gagging slightly to accommodate it. The taste of salty pre-cum coated your taste buds and you hummed with satisfaction.
"That's enough."
You paused your ministrations when your mistress cut in sharply.
"Jaime," she crooned lowly, "Don't be greedy."
Jaime sighed, his brow already shining with perspiration as he withdrew his cock from your throat, a thin strand of saliva hanging from your lips as you gazed up at him.
"The queen is right, sweetling." He sighed, guiding you up by the tip of your chin. "This is supposed to be your reward, not mine."
Eagerly, you allowed him to unlace your bodice and aided him in removing your skirt and small clothes.
"Excited little thing, aren't you?" He chuckled, pulling you in for a deep kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips pleadingly until you parted them, making sure to explore his mouth as much as he did yours. He growled at this, unaccustomed to not being the dominant one, but you responded by sharply nipping his lower lip and grinning. He pulled away with a challenged look, as if calculating his next move.
"Come here" He spat, spinning you around and pulling your back flush against his chest, one hand snaked to your throat as the other danced across your chest. His calloused fingers grazed over your nipples, which responded eagerly as he palmed the softness of your breasts.
"Look" He breathed in your ear, rubbing his hips against your ass as he had in the field. "If you'd been a good girl, we'd have had privacy. Now look at you, about to be fucked in front of your queen."
You moaned at this, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes as he chuckled against your shoulder.
"Or maybe you like this better? Tell me, how long has it been since you've been properly fucked, hm? Years, perhaps?" His hand wondered between your legs once more, locating the sensitive bundle of nerves he knew drove women wild.
"That's right sweet girl," He breathed, firmly pressing his fingers against your clit. Your body tensed and your hips didn't know if they should chase the pleasure of his fingers or flee the intensity of the electricity building between your legs. "Now now, you stay right there."
One hand tweaking your hard nipples and the other pressing your ass against the knight's cock as it circled your clit, you knew you wouldn't last long like this. Your thighs trembled and tried to tighten around his hand, which only made him tease you more.
"Look at this sister, only a few minutes and her body is begging for release. Is that what you want, sweetling? To cum in front of your mistress?"
"Gods, yes! Please, please, please." You begged, skin slick with sweat.
"What a sweet girl, begging so nicely for us." Jaime cooed, sucking on the crook of your neck with a humming laugh. "What do you think, sister?"
You looked up and saw your mistress's face alight with excitement, her own thighs squeezing together as she watched the show her brother put on for her.
"I think....not"
You whined when Jaime all at once withdrew his touch from your body.
"Take her to the bed. I want to watch her cum around you." Cersei requested and Jaime gladly obliged.
"Tell me, sweet sister," Jaime hummed, watching Cersei leave her chaise to meet him at the bed where he deposited your aching, desperate body. "How would you like your little slave fucked?"
"Bend her over" Cersei demanded without hesitation, cupping your face almost gently as Jaime flipped you on your stomach. "I want to watch your face when he fucks you."
Her words drove another spike of need between your legs as Jaime spread your thighs and thrust into your dripping cunt without preamble. The sudden intrusion made you instantly clench around him and claw at the bedding desperately as he drove into you over and over.
"Look at me." Cersei cooed, watching your eyes dart rapidly trying to find her, "Gods, you look so pretty like this. How does he feel inside of you? What I would give to fuck you like this." Her hands petted your hair, damp and clinging to your neck and forehead with sweat. When she spoke to you like this, it was like the whole world melted away and became an extension of her. Even Jaime, especially Jaime, was just an extension of her and her will. She was the one who was fucking you right now, and it was her who made the muscles in your core snap as waves of pleasure washed over you.
When your body began to spasm under him, Jaime could only hold back long enough to pull out as quickly as he possibly could, coating your ass and back with ropes of cum. His weight collapsed on top of you for a moment, both of you breathing heavy. Both of you feeling like you'd been fucked by someone who hadn't even touched you.
Cersei rose up off the bed and tossed a rag at Jaime before leaning over you again, peppering soft kisses over your still sensitive skin.
"Good girl, sweet girl, how wonderful you've been for me." she purred.
#cersei lannister x reader#cersei lannister imagine#jaime lannister imagine#jaime lannister x reader#game of thrones smut#jaime lannister smut#Cersei lannister smut#Her Grace's Handmaiden
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𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑼𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑺. all sentences have been taken from the showtime drama, the tudors. change names, locations, pronouns as you see fit. this is a redo of another meme.
“Without knowledge, life is not worth having.”
“I have come here to die. I die a Queen, but I would rather die the wife of Culpeper.”
“One day I shall lie beside you again, I promise and we shall sleep together for eternity.”
“Your Majesty's life is far too precious to be put at risk against such a common rabble.”
“Of course, if you choose to go, you'd be like a lion among wolves.”
“My friend, if all ambassadors were beautiful women I'd be serving my country day and night.”
“You hate him like a scorpion. And why? Because he would not satisfy your ambition.”
“Diplomacy is nearly always settled by such proximity.”
“I call Mary my English mare, because I ride her so often.”
“You are a poet as I am a woman. Poets and women are always free with their hearts, are they not?”
“There's something deep and dangerous in you, Anne, those eyes of yours are like dark hooks for the soul.”
“As a humanist I share your opinion. As a King, I'm forced to disagree.”
“Though I love Your Majesty and I'm loyal to you, in every way, I cannot disguise my distress and unhappiness.”
"I should only ever tell the king what he ought to do, not what he could do. For if the lion knows his own strength, no man could control him."
"Blessed lady, Queen of Hearts, there will be even greater crowds than these to welcome you when you return to London."
"For every scholar that votes for you...I could find a thousand who would vote for me."
"You and I are both young, and with God's grace, boys will follow."
"You have no one to blame but yourself for this.”
“I was a true maid without touch of men. And whether or not it be true, I put it to your conscience.”
"Seduce me. Write letters to me. And poems, I love poems. Ravish me with your words. Seduce me."
"I have never known another man....and nor would I ever want to."
"If I had to choose between extreme sorrow and extreme happiness, I would always choose sorrow, for when you are happy you forget about spiritual things, you forget about God.But in your sorrow, He is always with you."
"Chastity? You talk to me about chastity when you have a mistress and two children, your Eminence."
“This, I vow, that my eyes desire you above all things.”
“As a humanist I have an abhorrence of war. It's an activity fit only for beasts yet practiced by no kind of beasts so constantly as by man.”
“What if the King doesn't know what's in his best interests?”
“If you want to keep the love of a prince, this is what you must do: You must be prepared to give him the thing you most care for, in all the world.”
“Lady Anne is so beautiful, it is the duty of every man to love her. Of course I loved her, but from a distance.”
“You treat me so unkindly and in public neglect me.”
“My only satisfaction is that in frustrating you I hasten your fall from the King's good graces, an outcome I desire above all others.”
“Mistress Boleyn, you should not abuse the Queen's honor with such language!”
“He was a lion in my defense. Now he will die ashamed and alone in a prison cell.”
“Then here's the truth. You must shut your eyes and endure like your betters have done before you!”
“Don’t you know that I can drag you down as quickly as I raised you?”
“I am more convinced than ever that he is the agent of Satan. If I could, I would strip him from the King's side- and burn him.”
"I know of no Queen of England but my mother. And I will accept no Queen but my mother."
“If the King's mistress would intercede with him on my behalf, then I would be grateful."
"Lady, you must know how beloved you are to the people—as was your mother before you, God rest her soul."
“I'm a lot older than I was when I first knew you. And wiser.”
“have no heir. The Tudor Dynasty, all my father's work, finished, and it's MY fault!”
“He will tire of you, like all the others.”
“You know perfectly well what the King desires and what he shall have.”
“You can't have 3 people in a marriage!”
“I am surprised to receive such a request from such a wise and noble man as you.”
“ I am but a poor woman, lacking in both wit and understanding. How am I supposed to respond to such a request made to me out of the blue?”
“I know what you are trying to do, but do not think to take the King away from me. Let him play with you. Let him give you gifts. But he cannot give you his true heart.”
“I make you this promise. When we are married, I will deliver you a son.”
“I was wondering if you'd like to become my mistress.“
“The brat is now officially a bastard.”
“Everything will change for her. That kiss is her destiny and fortune.”
“People of England, your King is unharmed!”
“An important question, whether it is better for a king to be feared or loved.”
“I do imagine there are some at court who would like to see the Queen replaced.”
“Lady Bryan, if I cannot please the King, will he kill me?”
“For he who possesses the heir to the throne will very soon possess the throne itself.”
#rp meme#sentences memes#meme call#roleplay memes#sentence meme#( cali meme. )#rp memes#rp prompt#rp musings#roleplay prompt#roleplay meme
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Morgana AU Pt 7
All three of them fit comfortably in Morgana's chambers, despite offers of rooms for Kara and Gwen as well. But just as the court seems reluctant to let Morgana have free reign, Gwen and Kara are reluctant to give the court free access to Morgana. Even beyond that, after years spent in each other's company, it would feel unnatural to room alone.
One afternoon, while Gwen is having lunch with her brother, Morgana urges Kara to follow her. They make their way unaccosted through the castle-- they have an escort of two guards, but make no move to restrict their movement-- until Kara detects the scent of hay and manure.
The stables.
Kara slips inside the building after Morgana, her eyes adjusting to the change in light just in time to hear Morgana give a slow sigh of relief.
"So you are here still," Morgana murmurs to a gray horse with a mane as wavy as Morgana's own hair. The mare lifts her head at the sound of Morgana's voice, ears pricked forward. "Do you remember me, girl?"
The horse whinnies, and nudges Morgana's chest with her muzzle as soon as her mistress is in reach. Kara slowly moves closer as Morgana strokes the horse's neck.
"This horse is one of the few things I've missed about this place," Morgana confesses in a low voice. "I helped raise her from a filly, when I was a girl."
Kara keeps her hands in her pockets, until Morgana reaches for her wrist and draws her hand to the horse's jowl. The beast accepts her touch readily, though it's clear her attention is primarily fixed on Morgana.
"I'd hoped Arthur would continue caring for her."
"I have," comes a similarly low voice from the stable doors. Arthur strides towards the stall where they stand, with more confidence around Morgana than he's shown thus far. He leans against the wall, watching them both with the horse, features soft yet otherwise inscrutable.
"After a time," he continues, "she was all I had left of you."
Morgana's gaze flashes towards her brother. "Such sentiments hardly befit a king," she says.
"They befit this king."
Something in Arthur's voice changes, and he straightens to his full height-- not to intimidate, but to lend credence, authority to his words.
"I do not intend to rule as our father did, Morgana. I have sworn it to myself and the table."
Kara knows the legend, and can surmise the table of which he speaks. She doesn't know if Morgana knows. Morgana herself gives nothing away, her eyes distant as she continues to pet her horse.
"In that vein," Arthur continues, "I've come to let you know that I've deliberated your judgement."
Morgana's movements still. Kara sees her shoulders stiffen, bracing for the fall.
"Time served."
Morgana's surprise is impossible to hide. Wide eyes flash to Arthur,
"You'll notice Sarrum has left," Arthur explains, "and without his alliance. Before he did, he explained the... history, between the two of you."
Silently, Kara waits for Morgana to react. When she simply continues to stare, Arthur moves on. "I see no reason to repeat cruelty for cruelty's sake."
"Your court can hardly feel comfortable with that decision--"
"It is not the court's decision."
"Then exile--"
"Is that what you want?" Arthur asks. His words cut through Morgana's without malice. In the quiet that follows, he repeats his question. "Is that what you want?"
Morgana turns back to her horse, letting her forehead rest against the mare's jaw.
"No."
---
Arthur has provided them fresh attire the moment they were freed from Sarrum's chains, but after months of scraping together resources, Kara can't bring herself to dispose of their shifts and dresses. And one night, days after the exchange in the stable, Kara sits herself next to the fire to mend the rips and tears that have found a home in their garments.
Across the room in the bedchamber proper, Morgana and Gwen converse softly. At first Kara is content to work with their voices as a hum in the background, and only focuses in when their talk ceases for a heavy moment.
"Arthur says we're welcome here," Gwen says. Her voice is solemn, serious. Kara looks up and finds Gwen's gaze focused on Morgana. "I believe him."
Morgana doesn't say anything, which Kara has learned is a response in itself. Gwen sees it too.
Her features soften, accepting the truth as easily as she always has.
"You don't want to stay here."
For a moment Morgana's gaze is long and distance, before falling askance with heavy lids.
"No."
---
Kara doesn't ask Morgana about her intentions, but it's clear that Gwen and Arthur both itch to know what comes next. Merlin, for his part, only glares from the periphery, looking for all the world as though he would like nothing more than to sear Morgana with a curse.
He doesn't, though-- where Morgana stands tall in her identity, Merlin cowers behind his secrets.
In the end, when Morgana makes her decision, she does so in grand fashion.
"A tract of land??" Arthur repeats, voice echoing across the throne room. He'd called Morgana to open court to force the issue, when the whispers from the courtiers had grown too mistrustful.
Morgana lifts her chin in assent-- her gaze is defiant, and something about it makes Arthur relax, instead of rankle. Kara wonders if she's being treated to a glimpse of who Morgana might have been before Morgause.
"You claim to want a new future," Morgana declares. "Prove it." Exposing Arthur's sentiments to the court is a bold move. Kara holds her breath-- if Arthur denies it to ease the suspicions of the court, he loses Morgana forever.
To his credit, Arthur doesn't seem inclined to take the bait. His lips part to respond, but another voice cuts in.
"She undermines you, your majesty," Merlin warns. "Her intentions--"
"Do not presume to school me on matters of my own family," Arthur responds smoothly. He turns slightly in his chair to stare his advisor down. "I daresay that since my sister has returned to us, you have behaved more suspiciously than she."
"Arthur--"
"Enough, Merlin. I've made my decision," he announces, turning back to face Morgana and the rest of the court. "With some conditions, of course."
"Of course," Morgana echoes with a smirk.
"I choose which tract of land."
"You have one in mind then?"
"Tol, on the edge of the king's forest."
"Crown land?"
"Bequeathed to you, to do with as you please. You would pay no more tax than anyother landowner."
Morgana pauses, taking stock of her brother. "And should I welcome druids?"
At that, shocked whispers rustle throughout the courtroom. Merlin leans in to whisper in Arthur's ear, only to be halted by the king lifting his hand to stay his advance.
"Then as you say-- druids shall be welcome."
Even Morgana seems shocked at that. She has no wit with which to respond, no banter to further their repartee.
Arthur leans forward intently.
"You are the last High Priestess of the old religion," he delivers, voice even and steady. "I would see our peoples become one once more, Morgana."
Morgana stares at him, studying him for any hint of insincerity.
"It has to start somewhere," the king reminds her.
Locking eyes with Arthur, Morgana takes a breath.
"Then let it start here," she returns. Then she smirks. "Your terms are acceptable."
"I have one more," Arthur counters.
Morgana's eyebrows twitch upwards.
"This tract of land, along with anything and anyone on it, shall remain under the protection of the crown."
Morgana's jaw tightens. "I will not have soldiers tramping about--"
"No," Arthur agrees. "But should anyone be foolish enough to make a target of a settlement built by a high priestess-- then they will answer to me."
Kara and the rest of the court wait as Morgana stands in silent regard, weighing her decision in her mind. It will not be easy, what Morgana is planning. But Arthur is offering what he can to pave the way for her.
After another moment, Morgana's head tilts with a wry smile.
"So mote it be."
#morgana au#this is possible the laziest ficlet Ive ever done#zero research#zero mention of the gwen/lancelot thing#aint nobody got time for that#hopefully yall are enjoying it anyway lol
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79. The butler didn’t do it - part 2
CW: pet whump, animal death
Lydia leafed through page after page, pen in hand, marking out passages to be revised and spelling mistakes to be corrected.
*
The butler didn’t do it
The low, midwinter sun cast its golden glow over the snow-covered forest. White-robed spruce and birch, rowan and beech, all stood silent in the cold. No wind stirring their branches.
The only thing moving was a lonely figure in a grey cloak who arduously trudged through the snow. They dragged a heavy spruce branch behind them, efficiently obscuring their tracks.
A man on a gleaming chestnut horse came to meet them. The horse high stepping through the snow. The jingling of the tack and the muffled hoofbeats loud in the stillness.
“There you are, Coal!” The man’s voice was suffused with joy and relief. He pushed back his brown hood to reveal long, dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard and sparkling, blue eyes. He reached out a restraining hand. “No, no, do not kneel. How are you?”
The blonde man bowed deeply. “I am well, Master. They have not suspected a thing.”
“Well done!” The man frowned. “Your clothes are too thin.” With a swift motion he unclasped his cloak, whipped it off and leaned down to lay it around Coal’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Master.” The pet gratefully wrapped the warm cloak tighter around himself. “I dare not arouse suspicion by showing off things that are above my station in life.”
“I’m sure you could come up with an excuse,” the rider grumbled, “a gift from your late master. A gift for uncommonly devoted service, that sort of thing. It is not uncommon, you know.”
Coal petted the horse’s neck, the mare nuzzling his hair with familiar affection.
“With all respect, Master. It isn’t worth the risk.”
“I trust your judgement.” The rider sighed. “I’m just worried about you.” He rallied, and continued briskly. “How did you manage to get out?”
“Like we planned. The cook was very happy with my avowed skill in setting traps and eager with the prospect of some hares to add to the supplies.”
“Brilliant.” The dark-haired man opened his saddlebag and revealed a brace of hares. Their soft, white fur shimmering in the pale sunlight. Thin, red lines circling their necks.
“Here you go, to further strengthen your reputation. I have sent Meredith to restring your traps.” He laughed. “She is a natural. She will take the path by the manor and insisted on wearing your old booths in case someone would be suspicious enough to check.”
“I had expected nothing less.” They exchanged proud smiles. Coal stuffed the hares into his own satchel.
“What is the mood in the house?”
“Everyone is in a tizzy about the upcoming holidays, eagerly and nervously awaiting the arriving guest.”
“I’m still angling for an invitation.” The rider interjected. “I will do all that is possible to make sure that I am there.”
“Thank you, Master.” The pet nodded and continued on. “The pets and the servants - not all of the servants are pets - are afraid.” He paused, thoughtfully. “But not, I think, of Mistress Gwendolyn, who I have barely seen, but who I hear is strict but fair and not unduly hash. The butler, the housekeeper and the cook have all been long with the household and they seem also generally well-liked by the staff. However… I’m sorry, Master. It pains me to speak ill of a person… the Mistress’ son seems to be a right piece of work. Cruel, insidious and apt to make problems for the staff.”
“Hmm…” The owner rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I haven’t heard anything about this, but I will try to find out more about him. Anything else?”
“I think that is all for now.”
“Good work. Here, I brought some food for you.”
“Thank you, Master.” The pet handed over the cloak and took the packet. He bowed again. “I will head back. I’ll try to return here on the day after tomorrow.”
“Coal?”
“Yes, Monsieur Dupond.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
*
Satisfied, Lydia left all the pages in neat stack of papers on the windowsill. Coriander would go through them and add comments later, too.
*
This is the continuation of The Butler didn’t do it that absolutely no one asked for. 😂 Actually, this is a chapter of Lydia’s work in progress that happens before the events in the first part. Cory is working hard to help Lydia improve her writing, and specifically her writing of pets.
Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning
#pet whump#lydia and coriander#pet whumpee#bbu#box boy multiverse#box boy universe#whump fic#writers on tumblr#writeblr#original writing
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HoTD Big Bang Spring Prompt: The Forest
Here is a little drabble contribution toward the @hotd-bigbang Spring Prompt Challenge, featuring my OC, Lady Deidre Strong, from my ongoing multi-chapter fic Children of Bone and Blood.
Paring: Criston Cole x OC
The Kingswood held what was left of an ancient forest from the dawning days of Westeros. The trees that remained were old and held memory of days ever older. The gods had watched many events transpire and much time pass amongst the trees. Even though this far south, the Old Gods’ power had faded, it still lingered in the woods and the earth itself. Under the cover of the forest, Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsgaurd and Lady Deidre Strong cantered along on their horses, trying their best to keep sight of the yellow gold dragon that soared over head.
“I still don’t know why she couldn’t have us wait for her in one spot.” Criston pulled his steed to a stop, patting the grey destier on the neck for its efforts in keeping up with a dragon all afternoon. The knight squinted as he tried to make Syrax out through the holes in the green canopy above, the sunlight filtering through to the forest floor in rays that made it hard to see the sky.
Deidre giggled, arching a brow. “It is Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen we are speaking of. She has whims as changeable as the shape of a flame. She has to find the perfect spot for Syrax to rest, and she wants us there to keep her company when she does.”
“She'll reach that coveted, remote spot far easier than us.” Criston's voice held a grumble. He freely expressed his emotions around the Strong girl in a way that he’d never do among proper company of the Red Keep as member of the Kingsgaurd. “Damn, I think we’ve lost them.” He shook his head, a bit exasperated, but fondly so. “Don’t tell the princess, but tracking her dragon can be a pain the arse.”
Deidre let out a laugh, and Criston chuckled too. In truth, neither complained when Rhaenyra often dragged them out here to the Kingswood. In the trees, all their courtly roles, princess, lady-in-waiting, and knight, melted away, and the friendship and camaraderie the three shared could truly flourish.
Deidre closed her eyes as the wind rustled the green leaves overhead. She sent a small prayer to her gods, and the smell of a dragon, the sulfur, stone, and something uniquely Syrax, tickled Deidre’s nose. “They’re going this way.” She gently prodded her chestnut mare with her legs, urging it in the direction of the scent.
Criston tilted his head, but didn’t really question her, not in the moments when she held the certainty of the Old Gods in her tone. He may not understand it completely, but knew her well enough to tell there was greater wisdom behind her words sometimes, knowledge of the Old Gods, that Deidre sometimes grasped and sometimes missed entirely.
They seemed to get to the right general area, as they heard Syrax’s cries as she circled somewhere overhead, but twas still hard to pinpoint where the beast and her mistress were heading. “Perhaps you could look,” Criston suggested, nodding to the trees.
Deidre frowned as she glanced incredulously at the knight and the towering height of the trees. “Criston...”
“You’ve talked of doing it more for months, and you’ll never regain the skill if you do not challenge yourself.”
Deidre glared at the Kingsgaurd, looking at her with seriousness from beneath his gleaming helm. She knew he spoke true, but fear held her back. “Tis not very proper for a lady to do such a thing.” She huffed and tossed her brown braid over her shoulder, trying to imitate a plausible balance of Rhaenyra’s haughtiness and Alicent’s primness.
It must have all come out looking like silliness to Criston, for he laughed heartily, a deep rich tenor that made heat tinge Deidre’s cheeks, due to a mixture of embarrassment and other emotions that she would not entertain thoughts of. Criston removed his helm and vaulted down from his horse, his dark hair coming free around his shoulders as he stepped closer to Deidre’s mounts and took the reigns. He smiled up at her. “Come on now, while you’re a fair bit more proper than the princess, I’ve seen you climb trees like a squirrel in the gardens.”
“A squirrel? You’d compare me to a squirrel?”
Criston shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever animal you’d like, my lady.” He nodded his head in a mockery of his usual devout behavior in his knightly role as Rhaenyra’s sworn shield.
Deidre smiled, a laugh in the back of her throat, but then as she glanced up at the trees again, she swallowed. She’d climbed trees tall as some in this wood in Harrenhal’s Godswood as a child, often with her eyes closed as she trusted the feeling of the gods in the wind, earth, and trees themselves to guide her on the right path, but all that had been before Dyana’s fall. The gods had taken half of her soul the day they’d taken her twin and Deidre’s connection to them with her. She’d found the courage to climb again after years at Criston’s urging and with his support, but she didn’t feel as sure footed as she once had. “I just don’t know if I feel safe doing it.”
Criston’s face dropped and then his expression grew firm. His gloved hand found hers, resting on her lap as she loosely grasped the reigns of her palfrey. “I took an oath to serve the royal family and keep the princess safe. That oath extends to you as her lady, and even if it didn’t, I would do it still.”
His gaze held the same intensity as his words as his fingers squeezed Deidre’s. His brown eyes locked with her green, and for a moment they both were lost. “What if I were to fall, trying to climb high as a dragon, as my sister did?”
“As I told you already, I’d catch you. I always will.”
Deidre cheeks colored more at that memory of the gardens a few months back, when he’d encouraged her to do the thing she’d not done in the years since her sister’s death. He’d kept his promise when she’d slipped, and they’d shared a moment far too intimate to be proper for any lady and Kingsgaurd, no matter how friendly they’d become in their shared service to the princess. Yet his repeated promise gave Deidre a courage she normally did not have. He always calmed the storm that stirred in her veins when the gods whispered of things she could not grasp or understand.
Their eyes remained locked as she slid down from her palfrey, his hand only slightly brushing her waist to make sure her descent was steady. Criston grasped the reins on her steed as she studied the trees and slid off her boots and stockings. She let herself feel the dirt and crunch of leaves between her toes and against the soles of her feet as she studied the trees for the best one to climb. She closed her eyes and listened to wind that whispered through the green leaves of the trees. She smelt the damp of the earth. She felt no pull though.
There is always a price, had been her Aunt Alys’ words when speaking of the old gods and their power. Deidre thought of the price already paid in her twin’s blood, when the young girl with a face that had reflected Deidre’s own had climbed too high on a castle wall. Dyana’s blood pooling on the cobble stone from her head, her pain that had been Deidre’s own. Then Deidre felt the pull, a push from the wind that brushed her skirts. She let her feet guide her and reached out a hand. She felt her palm come in contact with a firm trunk, gnarled and filled with knots, pulsing with life and ideal for climbing. Smiling, Deidre let her fingers feel over the bark until she could grip a strong hand hold, and she climbed, and climbed, and climbed. She opened her eyes when she felt the warmth of the sun and sensed its unhindered light through her lids. Her eyes fluttered open to find herself on a study branch close to a break in the thick green cover of the forest, a large patch of clear blue sky visible. Feeling the guiding hand of the gods in the tree, Deidre climbed a bit further until she could see above the tree cover. She spotted Syrax, golden scales glinting in the sun, circling just a little due east towards the cliffs at the edge of the Kingswood, where the land dropped sharply off into Blackwater Bay. The dragon let out a call as it began its descent, and Deidre smiled as the gods answered back, whispering in the wind.
#hotd spring prompts 24#oc: deidre strong#criston cole#criston cole x oc#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#hotd oc
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Do you have any thoughts on the Kains' family dynamics (especially Maria & Khan + Nina & Maria but anything will do)... Do you ever think about them...
god do i. do i ever. the maria and khan dynamic to me hinges so beautifully on that post i cannot stop thinking about it. in pathologic siblings either cannot part/love each other saur saur much (clara & changeling for the "cannot part" one, both for the stamatwins) or have this growing distance between them (georgiy and simon, in their defense One is Dead [allegedly], maria and khan, vlad jr and capella...). i think maria never really wanted a sibling but Tough Luck baby girl. she liked having all of her parents' attention; she knew she was destined to greatness by blood, and having that blood be shared didn't sit well with her. khan is bound to be an heir in his own way, a "beloved son", "the family's hope" - maria wishes she could have all of this. but they navigate very different waters, the two of them. khan respects her - respects her because she can make herself be respected so easily, with such grace, whereas he still has to claw for it, even within his family (mostly by virtue of. being 15). she finds him a little cringe and like a little insect in many ways, but one ought to respect insects.
khan, within his own family is beloved in the way maria is feared - meaning he is also feared, and she is also beloved. they're both bound to heritage - whereas maria welcomes hers, and fully intends on filling the dark sky with her hair like her mother did before, khan is not particularly excited to become like his father.
living with nina was like living with a biblical angel, or a maddened night mare. she was feared, even by her own family members, and yet adored. they were never afraid she would like hit them or anything, it was closer to living with lightning, but a lightning that loves you, in its own way. i think she was tempestuous and groundswell-like with Maria, i think as a way to... incite her power to come through. earthquake-like to release the magma underneath... that didn't happen before her death (that happens closer to like day 9 bachelor route p1) but maria will be forever thankful her mom did that. it was like fencing... like Mensur maybe even.
she was not like this with her son, because. well his ass is not becoming a mistress. she loved him dearly too, but might have been a little distant, engulfed in her Mistress ways, but always tried to stir up his fires for desire of power and greatness... and that manifested itself as he became a teenager.
victor's relationship with both his kids is... strained in the fact that he has neither the power, the fury, the fire or the hold that Nina had. his daughter is slipping away from him because she is molding a volcanic fire of her own, that he knew once in her mother but that he never truly understood, and his son he couldn't hold onto because he longs for freedom so much (possibly inherited from his mother). maria doesn't want his tenderness because she wants respect and knows herself to burn so much brighter than him, and khan doesn't want it either because he wants quite the same, but doesn't have the mistress inheritance, the mystery, the power that maria has inherited... so he has to forge his own.
tldr
women when they're about to become their mother: 🖤🗡️🔥🫀🫁🌩️♥️
men when they're about to become their father: 😬😟🙁☹️😰🫨😱
and whatnot
#ring ring (answers)#anonymous#maria lore#nina lore#khan lore#one thing these siblings will do. is bicker at each other.
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Absolutely unpredictable
Saying this here, I do not do fandom uncivil discourse.
Technically addressed to @the-apostates-martyr @sangcreole, and company. But if someone else on the dash sees this, I beg them to read further and not assume intent. This is a long post. Something I’ve been thinking on for awhile. Something I’ve talked extensively about in all the vampire adjactent discords I am in, including Maven’s.
This is something I’ve noticed in all fandoms including all Ricean work, especially TVC. The lines that come to mind are as follows….
“Give me a man or woman who has read a thousand books and you give me an interesting companion. Give me a man or woman who has read perhaps three and you give me a very dangerous enemy indeed.” and “We're frightened of what makes us different.” (Anne Rice)
To get to the point, this wasn’t exactly a thing back when the TVC fandom was just the queer and global majority gothic and goth kids yelling on tumblr, exchanging notes. It’s the puritanical rhetoric for me. I don’t consider myself “pro” ship or “anti” ship. Merely being able to separate fiction from reality. If the straight, normie, white people can have fictional toxic relationships and messy bastards (affectionate) so can we. I am increasingly tired of Marius anti’s. It’s hypocritical and tedious and furthermore, not real. They’re vampires, therefore all questionable and you cannot consent fully willingly if a preternatural creature is threatening you. Additionally, 40 is not old. You can dislike Marius’ treatment of Armand, you can dislike a character but to be hurtful to real people is a step logically, too far and I won’t have it. I personally very much disdain David Talbot. I still think him interesting. I simply don’t post about him. Lastly, I am just incredibly tired of people treating devils minion as healthy, happy or sane or as Daniel’s end point. It’s definitely not healthy and it’s S&M af. That’s what interesting about it. Love makes monsters of us all and love drives many an individual especially in gothic horror to do “bad” things. What’s the point of liking these characters if one can’t comprehend none is ethical, they’re all traumatized and they aren’t in any capacity straight.
I think y’all are cool. Also, I updated these for the first time in a year:
#ooc / the poet#long post#fandom wank#i have opinions#vampire chronicles#queer#daniel molloy#lgbtq+#anti anti#anti censorship#marius de romanus#David Talbot#lestat de lioncourt#louis de pointe du lac#the vampire armand#context matters#bisexual#anti purity culture#gothic horror#meta#playlists#music#i just think they’re neat#rant post#i like vampires#vampires are cool okay?#books#anne rice#long post tw#/affectionate
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Spike may have been a royal advisor and international ambassador, but he was just like a kid again as he sat cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in one of his favorite Power Ponies comic books. The fanboy in him was thriving as he pored over the pages, anticipating each move almost as if he were reading it for the first time again.
But now, he was joined by two real kids who really were hearing this story for the first time. Two foals who he could impart his wisdom on all things nerdy to.
“‘Now, for the icing on the cake!’”
He read with an evil cackle, imitating the maniacal mannerisms of the Power Ponies’ nemesis: the Mane-iac.
When he turned the page, the children gasped.
“What’s that, Uncle Spike? What’s happening to them?”
Little Bismuth Sun begged him for answers, relying on him to clear the air since she could not read yet.
“Wait, Bissy! He’s going to tell us!”
Her older sibling Celestial Blessing tried to curb the barrage of questions she was inevitably about to ask, but the look of wonder in their eyes made it clear they were just as eager to find out.
“Oh no! What is this terrifying, dastardly device?”
Spike read from the page, emphasizing the words slowly to build up tension.
“And what will it do to our intrepid heroines? Those of you with faint hearts might want to look away!”
He looked between the kids suspensefully.
“Can you handle it?”
Bismuth ducked in the crook of his wing, feigning fear.
“I don’t know!”
But she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.
Celestial tapped on his tail impatiently.
“Yes we can! Tell us what happened!”
“Krak-snap!”
Spike read out the sound effect, flipping the page to an image of the Power Ponies writhing in agony under some mysterious villain device. Then he showed them the aftermath:
“‘What did you do to us?’”
The dragon’s voice shifted into a more feminine, somewhat nerdy tone, reading for Masked Matterhorn but sounding a bit like the children’s mother.
“‘They’ve stolen our powers!’”
Radiance’s voice came out posh and dramatic, like their mother’s friend Mrs. Rarity.
The children gasped.
“I know, right?”
Spike commented.
“‘But...without our powers, we’re…’”
“‘Useless? Powerless? Helpless? All of the above?”
He switched back to the Mane-iac voice.
‘“You’re now as ineffectual as your little sidekick! You can have him back, by the way.’”
Bismuth looked at the picture of Humdrum and scowled.
“She’s mean! Humdrum isn’t ine…ineffe…”
“Ineffectual.”
“Well, he hasn’t done anything yet.”
Celestial countered, not rudely but matter-of-factly.
“Ah, but just wait and see!”
Spike’s voice had the tone of playful suspense, but he was a little insulted that “his” character was being called useless by his own nibling.
He read on to the next page, describing to the foals in more detail how the Power Ponies were defeated, reading more of the Mane-iac’s evil insults, all the while watching them both hang on to the edge of their seats with anticipation and scorn for the villain.
Then, it was Humdrum’s time to shine.
“‘Those— Those fiends! They’ve taken everything from us!’”
He read Mistress Mare-velous’ words in a southern accent, like Applejack’s.
“‘We’re helpless!’”
Poshly.
“‘We’re hopeless!’”
A softer tone, like if Duchess Fluttershy was angry.
“‘We’re hapless!’”
A high-pitched, energetic tone like Pinkie Pie.
“‘Alas! Who will shield our citizens from villainy in our absence?’”
A strange tone mixed between Zapp’s royal mannerisms and a character that the kids couldn’t recognize.
“‘Nopony can, except us! Without us, the city doesn’t have a chance!’”
“‘Maybe we can still defeat them! Maybe we can be heroes, even without powers!’”
“‘No…We can’t.’”
Spike sucked his lips in to make a comically quizzical look, as if to say, what does this mean? Bismuth was practically vibrating as she clung to his shoulder, like a parrot on caffeine.
“Well?”
Even CB couldn’t be patient.
“‘What do they have that we don’t?’”
He asked in Twilight’s voice. Then, as himself,
“‘Friendship!’”
Spike went on to read the heartwarming yet empowering tale of Humdrum standing up to the Power Ponies and teaching them the ways of friendship, and then the thrilling and action-packed montage of the Power Ponies thwarting the villains’ plans and getting their powers back. Each page provoked “oohs” and “ahhs” and a million questions from these preschool foals, so much like their own parents.
He wouldn’t be surprised if they did a research project on Power Ponies lore at this rate!
Finally, he reached the end where the Power Ponies were once again lauded by the mayor, and Masked Matterhorn said,
“‘I think Maretropolis will be safer than ever before, thanks to Humdrum! He showed us what we needed in order to be a real team!’”
Spike looked at Humdrum’s face, teary-eyed but smiling in the face of such high praise, thinking back to his own youth. All the times that he felt useless or invisible, or even like he was actively screwing things up. Before he was an ambassador, an advisor, a hero. He always had Twilight and the others by his side, even when they were out saving the world before he, too, could make his own mark.
They were always a team, the six—no, seven of them. Reading about the Power Ponies’ adventures reminded him of that, when they were all together. Not that he didn’t still see most of them from time to time, but now it was mostly just him and Twilight—
“Uncle Spike?”
This snapped him out of his reminiscing. He couldn’t go back to that, but now there was a new generation to teach about teamwork and friendship.
“Is this the end? I wanna see more Humdrum!”
He smiled, setting the book down and ruffling Bissy’s mane.
“Oh, you will! Just wait till tomorrow’s story. There’s never an end for these ponies!”
~~~~~~~~~~
Background by tamalesyatole
Back cover of comic by ImperfectXIII
Front cover of comic by Ben Bates
#KindsArt#thirdverse#spike#spike the dragon#spike mlp#celestial blessing#bismuth sun#twiburst#next generation#my little pony#mlp fim#mlp g4
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Humans Are Semi-Monogamous
Something that is almost completely lost in modern speculative fiction. While we say that Humans are naturally monogamous, we have never actually been monogamous. We are instead semi-monogamous.
Monogamy is an incredibly powerful concept that is the entire reason Human civilization is so successful. This is one of the main reasons behind the Wage Gap. The Wage Gap is not between Women and Men, but between Married Women With Children and everyone else. Never married women without children actually make more than their male peers. Two things happen when a couple gets married and has kids:
The mother needs / wants to take time off to take care of her children.
The father starts working more.
Single men tend to only work as much as they need to to survive. Men with a wife and children make much more prudent life decisions, work harder, specialize more, etc. So, by having every man marry, you basically double or quadruple their productivity. They are much more willing to take up arms to defend their culture. Basically turning them from grass eaters to meat eaters.
So, what does the Semi mean?
Humans, in the safe, modern world, are born 51% male. The overall population is 51% female. In the far less safe world, men die far more quickly than women do. This creates a massive population imbalance. If we had strict monogamy, they could never become mothers, and we would be idiotically throwing away their fertility, which is suicide to a population. For people who think we’ve evolved beyond such quaint notions, pretty much every modern country has sub-replacement fertility. We’re literally dying out.
If we accept a general principle of monogamy, then someone has to take up the surplus women. This is usually the wealthiest men. Rome put a stop to polygamy, not for any Feminist reasons, but to prevent squabbling between heirs. They had more than enough squabbling between heirs, even with monogamy. The women are then switched to something like kept mistresses. Biblically, infertile women could also offer their hand maidens to take their place in baby making, and so a lot of this was taken up by the servile class.
i.e. lords would hire maids they could fuck, and then pay them off to take care of their bastards.
In Islam, it could be interpreted as taking the privilege of the upper classes cand giving it to the masses. The problem with this is that in many Muslim countries ONLY the rich can have wives. Because would often be the fourth wife to a rich man than the only husband to a poor man. This creates a lot of surplus that don’t meaningfully contribute to society.
This isn’t me moralizing, or saying I support one thing or another. This is instead focused on Speculative Fiction. In Speculative Fiction, if you create a different society, you have to take this into consideration. And this is something that is almost always ignored in Speculative Fiction, which is one of the main reasons taht Matriarchies always fail in fiction.
I can only think of two times when Matriarchies were done well:
Mass Effect: Salarians: They completely changed the biology of the species, and because of that the society changed to follow. (Before anyone tries to say Asari, they only have one sex, so calling it a Matriarchy is technically accurate, but meaningless).
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic: All they had to do was make the males (stallions) less ambitious. They also made Friendship to be literally magic, which means that the conscientiousness of females (mares), plays a much more important roll in societal unity. And this creates a justification for why the Alicorn Princesses are always female.
Outside of this, most matriarchies have absolutely no idea what they are doing.
Before anyone says we have traditionally had Matriarchies:
They have a female ruler, but the family unit is still patriarchal.
They are completely ineffective.
This is because in Humans, Matriarchies are not, and cannot be successful. Without enforced monogamy to give men skin in the game, men do not act constructively for society. Our attempts to artificially remove men’s place in the family has produced absolute bedlam. The primary indicator for failure, (crime, drugs, etc.), is fatherlessness.
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The Sabotager
Pillerwoman (Y/N) x Yandere! Joseph
Language: English
Rating: Adult Insinuated Sexual Content
Time: 08 11 22
Status: One Shot
Parings: Reader x Joseph, Male OC x Suzy Q, Kars x Esidsi (mentioned)
Characters: Lisa Lisa, Ceasar, Wamuu, Santana.
Additional information: Yandere Stuff. Slow build. Lisa Lisa, Ceasar and Jojo are OOC.
Synopsis:
Lord Kars choosing you to be the mare of the new world should be a flattering thing. And to an extent it surely is. But thousands of years after the flattery wore out. The flattery turned to digust and now thwarting your former master is your main goal.
(With Jojo and the Gang)
"The Pillermen are in search of The Red Stone of Ajia. Said stone is in my possession." Lisa Lisa fills in the group.
"Why are they after this Stone." Ceasar Questioned.
"Well I don't truly know. No one does, well other than themselves of course. It is a secret they kept. However. One can assume it is because of this." She says as she hold up the stone to the light causing a blast of condensed light shot from the stone causing the brick to explode due to the intense heat. The crew gasped and cooed.
"Okay Ms. Lisa Lisa, do tell what exactly is the plan. I mean a bunch of Massive and Powerful monsters are after a stone... what is your end goal here?! To get us all killed?!" Arnold Speedwagon says, whilst his eyebrow twitched.
"Can I be real a second? For just a millisecond?" Lisa Lisa exclaimed as she looked around the room making eye contact with everyone. "This is a 'Hail Mary' plan. I don't know what Kars exactly needs the stone for. But, I do know his end goal is mass human eradication. So presumably this stone has something to do with his plan."
"That is fair Mistress Lisa Lisa. But I must wonder why not just destroy the stone then." Suzy Q question.
"Simple. It is a bargaining chip. It will help us get the upperhand." Ceasar tries to explain.
"Yes. We have 26 days left." Lisa Lisa says in a somber tone. Then she claps her hand to change the tone. "On a positive note there is another Pillerm..."
"How is this a positive thing wench!" Joseph as he jumps back with the news.
"Because stories say she isn't like the rest."
"Stories?" Arnold questioned.
"She?" Ceasar asked as his eyes bug out of his head.
"Of course. Mr. Thinks With his Coc..." Joseph is interrupted by Lisa Lisa clearing her throat.
"Yes. And she has been awake for 47 years." She says. "Living on a Tiny Island in the northern region of the (Cape Aniva) Japanese Empire."
"WAIT! hold up! You expect us to what? Make the 90 Something Day trip to a country which is at war right now. To talk to a monster that MIGHT help us kill their own kind. YOU'VE completely lost it Elizabeth. There is No Way, No How! That Suzy and I will be..." Arnold says and Suzi tries to comfort him to the best of her abilities.
"I Never Asked You To. I understand your hesitation. And I sympathize with it. But,"
"No Buts! You are going to get us killed."
"ENOUGH. Both of you. We aren't solving anything by theorizing about this. Jojo, You said you have a Motorcycle. How fast can it go?" Ceasar interupts.
"Well it really depends but I usually can go up to 185 kilometers per hour. But why not just take an aeroplane? Wouldn't it be quicker?" At this mention Lisa Lisa freezes. But only for a second.
"And risk getting shot down? No. But like Speedy said the Japanese are at war right now. It is to dangerous."
"So we fly to Taiwan then take another mode of transportation to get to the island." Jojo adds.
"That could work."
(Two Days Later)
"So this is the Place?" Joseph rhetorically stated.
"Its very Gloomy." Suzy Q states as she Scoots closer to Arnold.
"It has to be. The Pillerwoman." Jojo states.
"Em. Not necessarily...." Lisa Lisa added. "The piller in question, which has now been excavated to england, stood acting as some kind of natural light house. But, I digress, this pillerwoman was not inside or hidden from the sun. Instead quite the opposite."
"Goddammit! This really is a Suicide Mission!" Arnold panicked.
"Keep it down will you." Ceasar growl whispered. "These creatures can hear twice as good as bats."
"This whole mission is a Suicide Mission for me Ceasarino, Speedy. So with that being said. Let's get on with this. I litterly don't have time to waste." He says as he walked towards the quaint brick building.
"Joestar. Come back here. We need a plan." Arnald says.
Once Joseph was out of hearing range. "You know us Joestars. We always have a few tricks up our sleeves. I'm sure my son has one so we follow."
"Ara Ara what do we have here? Five Milk Drinkers?" (Y/N) says as she emerges from the bizarre ominous fog.
"Four Milk Drinkers, I'm Lactose Intolerant." Jojo jokes as he takes in her appearance. She was truly a Goddess. Everything about her was perfect. Especially since she chuckled to his childish banter.
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The Temporary Roommate - T - Ch 2
7,616 words
Part 2 of ACOTAR Secret Santa gift for @poisonivy206
—-
Once they arrived at the house, Mor left Emerie to wander the garden she'd shown an interest in while she went inside to find the elderly couple, Bronwyn and Able, who looked after the estate while she was gone.
"My lady!" Bronwyn hurriedly dusted flour coated hands on her apron and dropped a curtsy while Able leapt up from the table he'd been sitting at, peeling vegetables to bow. "You're early. We did not expect you until tomorrow."
"Yes," Mor said, giving them an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry if I've disrupted your routine but, there's been a change of plans... I brought a guest."
Both faeries perked up at the news. "A guest? Oh, goodness. I'd only just begun preparing your room, my lady. I haven't opened any of the other rooms. It will take at least a day to prepare, the other rooms have been closed up for so long, they're frightfully dusty."
That was exactly what she'd been afraid of. She'd meant to send a note ahead of her arrival to warn the housekeeper but had been preoccupied with rushing the remainder of her preparations for the visit. With magic, it was the work of a few minutes to clean out a room and stock it with fresh linens but Bronwyn prided herself on anticipating her mistress' needs. Mor had thrown her carefully ordered household into a bit of chaos.
"Which room would you like to put...?"
"Emerie," she provided.
"Lady Emerie." Mor iddn't bother to correct her. Emerie could do decide if she was comfortable being addressed as such. "Which room shall I put her in?"
"Oh it doesn't matter," she waved a hand. "Whichever is easiest for you. I just wanted to give you a heads up for dinner."
The housekeeper's eyes widened as she glanced around at the ingredients she'd begun preparing and Mor could see her calculating if she'd have enough. She gave her husband a look and he nodded. "I'll gather some more potatoes," he said before moving towards the door.
"I was only preparing a simple stew," Bronwyn fretted, her eyes darting towards the larder which would likely not have been stocked with much meat yet until Able went hunting tomorrow.
"It's no bother, Bronwyn. I don't mind and I don't think Emerie will either. You can dazzle us with your culinary skills tomorrow night. I think my guest will wish to retire early this evening in any case," she added when the old woman looked uncertain. After a moment, she nodded, her spine straightening to military precision.
"Yes, very good. I'll start planning the menu now." She moved over to the corner where a pen and notebook sat for her use, and began jotting things down. "What sort of dishes does Lady Emerie prefer? Lamb? Chicken? Venison?"
"Oh, uh," Mor shifted on her feet. "I couldn't say. She's from Illyria, so I think she's used to simple fare."
Bronwyn's head whipped around, her eyes alight with curiosity. "An Illyrian?"
"Yes. She's a friend of my cousin's sister-in-law, Lady Nesta."
"The general's mate?"
"Indeed...." Mor hesitated, unsure how much to share. "There's been some- trouble in Windhaven, recently. The High Lord asked me to look out for her safety while he and the general sort out matters."
"I see." There was clear interest in the woman's dark gaze but she said nothing else as she returned to her planning. "Well, not to worry my lady, I'll take care of everything. You and your guest enjoy yourselves."
With that, she was shooed out of the kitchen and returned outside to find the gardens empty. She felt a brief moment of panic before spotting Emerie leaning against the paddock on the other side of the house.
A sleek white mare knickered and trotted over as she approached making Mor smile.
"She's beautiful," Emerie said, watching the horse nuzzle Mor's chest. "They all are."
Something warmed in her chest. These horses were her pride and joy, though she didn't get to spend nearly as much time with them as she would like. "Thank you. This beautiful girl is Ellia, my favorite. Don't tell the others," she whispered.
Emerie chuckled, tentatively holding out a hand for Ellia to sniff. The mare snorted but stuck her nose out further for pats. Mor let out a quiet breath, grateful the horse seemed to like her. Ellia was always friendly with her but had been skittish around Able when she'd first brought him in to help care for her. She hadn't been around too many other people for Mor to truly know how she'd respond.
"Would you like to join me for a ride?" The words were out before she could fully think them through.
Emerie blanched, pulling back slightly. "Oh, uh... actually, I'm still pretty sore and tired from- the other day. I think I'd like to lay down for a while, if that's alright?"
Mor's smile dimmed a little as disappointment burned. "Of course. I'm afraid we surprised my poor housekeeper by arriving unexpectedly so your room isn't prepared yet, but the chaise in the library is quite comfortable. If you need anything, just let Bronwyn know."
Emerie tucked her hands into her skirts as she backed away towards the house. "Right, thanks. I'll, er- see you later, I guess."
Mor nodded, but she'd already turned and started hurrying back inside. Mor frowned after her for a moment, wondering if Emerie's rejection of the invitation to ride was because of her, or a fear of horses. She'd seemed fine enough around Ellia, but she supposed petting one and riding one were two different things.
Oh well. There wasn't much point in dwelling on it and, despite her disappointment to be riding alone, Mor was dying to feel the wind in her hair. Clicking her tongue, she coaxed Ellia to follow her back into the stables where she bridled and saddled her before swinging up onto her back and racing out of the barn into the rolling hills of Athelwood's lands.
---
Emerie cursed herself for a coward as she returned to the house. The invitation to ride, and Mor's clear disappointment in her refusal had her stomach twisted in knots. As much as she'd wanted to spend time with the pretty female, something about putting herself on the back of an animal as large and intelligent as a horse terrified her.
Logically, she knew she was being silly. People rode horses all the time. Sure, there were sometimes accidents, but all in all, they were reasonably safe. Still, there wasn't a single horse in Illyria, not that she'd seen anyway. Why use animals to get around when you could walk or fly? At least, in the males case. However, if the males had no wish or need for horses, then neither did the females.
Nesta, she knew, had once owned horses when she'd been human, she hadn't been much of a rider, she'd explained, but they were useful work animals, helping to transport humans and goods alike. Gwyn, of course, was damn near obsessed with their winged cousins, the pegasus. Even Emerie could admit, there was something intriguing about the idea of them. She missed flying...
Emerie startled, swallowing a yelp as she nearly plowed over a smaller, fae female rounding the corner from the opposite direction Emerie had been wandering, lost in thought.
The woman jerked in surprise, carrying a stack of red sheets and several fluffy looking gold towels, then smiled. "Ah, you must be Lady Morrigan's guest. Pleasure to meet you, Lady Emerie. I'm Bronwyn," she said, bobbing a curtsy.
Emerie's cheeks burned pink. "Oh, I'm not a lady. It's just Emerie."
"My apologies, miss. Is there something I can do for you?"
"Oh, um, yes actually. Could you just point me in the direction of the library?"
"Of course dear, follow me."
She trailed behind the older woman, who lead her through a hallway lined in warm oak and lit by candle sconces. Emerie hadn't yet been inside the house, and only just now looked around at the interior. Thick carpets lined the floors muffling their steps, and painted landscapes decorated the walls. The entire house seemed to be done in warm shades of red, green, and gold that gave it a cozy feel, despite the size.
"Just through those doors, miss," the housekeeper nodded towards a set of carved oak doors with twisted iron handles. "If you need anything, just give a shout."
"Thank you." Emerie pushed open the doors and stepped into the room as the woman returned to her task and a delighted gasp left her.
She took several more steps into the room, turning a slow circle to take in every detail. She'd been in the library at the House of Wind before, as well as the massive archives of the Library where Gwyn and her fellow priestesses worked, but this one...
Books lined almost every inch of the two-story room, only broken up by the occasional door on one wall, a massive, roaring fire place on another, and several large windows on the outside of the house which let in lots of natural light. More thick, patterned carpets cushioned the oak floors and several comfortable pieces of leather furniture littered the open space in the middle of the room along with one larger round table near a window, and several smaller ones that sat between the armchairs and sofas with lamps and candelabras atop them.
For a long moment, Emerie just stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed and smile wide as she breathed in the smell of leather and books. This was heaven.
Trailing a finger along the nearest stack of books, she made her way around the room, scanning the titles until she found a few that caught her eye. When her arms were full, she made her way over to the chaise Mor had mentioned earlier which sat near the fire, a dark, woven blanket draped over the arm and sat her selections on the nearest table. Choosing one to start with, a mystery romance she remembered Gwyn recommending recently, she slipped out of her walking boots and settled on the chaise, draping her skirts around her curled legs and began reading.
Sometime later, Bronwyn returned to check on her, asking if she would like anything to drink. Emerie only asked for some water which she happily provided before informing her that dinner would be served in an hour. Glancing at the nearest window, she was momentarily startled to see the sun already setting before remembering that it was almost Solstice and the days had been growing shorter. By her estimation it was only a little after four in the afternoon.
Sighing, she returned to her book, only to be awoken- not even aware of when she'd fallen asleep- by Morrigan who smirked as she stood over her, her own book in hand. The one Emerie had been reading had been set aside by someone, her place marked by a strip of dark leather.
"Hello, Sleeping Beauty. Nice of you to join us again," she said with a teasing smile.
Rubbing her eyes, Emerie sat up, wincing as she stretched. Thankfully most of the lingering soreness seemed to have faded and she was merely stiff from the awkward position she'd been laying in. "What time is it?"
"Almost midnight. I figured you were probably still sleeping when you missed dinner and thought I'd leave you to it but, now that your room is ready and I'm heading up to bed myself, I thought you might want to relocate. Of course, if you're hungry, there's some stew left in the kitchen I can warm up for you?"
Emerie blushed, embarrassed by her rudeness in sleeping through dinner. "Oh, that's alright. I can manage. If you'll just tell me how to find my room so I can head up after I'm finished."
"Please," Mor insisted, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. She quickly stuffed her feet back into her boots before accepting and again felt that jolt of electricity when they touched. She could have sworn she heard a small intake of breath from her companion, but if she'd also felt it, she showed no outward sign. "You're my guest, Emerie. The least I can do is see that you're fed before I send you to bed."
Emerie couldn't think of a response for that that wouldn't sound like a dismissal which would be the height of rudeness, so merely smoothed her hands over her skirts and nodded. Morrigan led her out of the room and into the kitchens where only the embers of the fire remained. She quickly stoked them back to life, warming up the space and transferred a covered pot to the stove.
She watched in silence as Morrigan worked, somewhat surprised that someone who'd been raised in luxury was so comfortable in a kitchen. Then again, Nesta's own sister had also been born a lady and often worked in the kitchens of the High Lord's home. Was it really so shocking that a wellbred lady might find enjoyment in domestic tasks? What did that say about her that she had never considered the idea? Goodness, she was a snob.
Morrigan chuckled as she filled a bowl and laid it before her. "Don't look so impressed. I'm afraid reheating and serving food is about the extent of my culinary skills. The last time I tried to cook, I nearly burned down Rhys' cabin. He was less than thrilled."
She laughed, delighted to find this flaw in the otherwise seemingly perfect female. It made her goddess-like presence seem just a little less intimidating. Morrigan smiled wryly, pouring them each a glass of wine and leaning against the counter as she ate.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, concern creasing her brow as she scanned her like she was looking for evidence of any injury that might have been missed.
The scrutiny made her squirm a little in her seat. "Much better. I'd reckon a few more hours of good sleep and I'll be as good as new."
Red lips curved in a soft smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I was- worried after finding you like that. I'm glad Rhys sent me to find you when he did."
"So am I," Emerie said quietly, staring down at her food as she dragged her spoon through the hearty stew. "Why did he send you, anyways? I mean, I know he sends the boys to check on me from time to time- they try to be subtle about it but it's pretty obvious what they're doing when they drop by the store to purchase items they could easily find in Velaris. But Cassian had only been by a week ago."
Mor's lips twisted to the side. "I wondered that myself, to be honest. Rhys sometimes gets a little paranoid, something I can't blame him for after everything he's lost- and almost lost. I think he was just having one of those over cautious moments, only this time, he was right."
She sighed, sipping her wine. "As to why he sent me and not the boys? Probably because he knew that if something had happened to you, they'd explode first and ask questions never. I'm sure you've noticed those two can be very scary when they want to."
Emerie snickered, taking a sip of her own drink. The dark ruby wine burned pleasantly, the rich, spicy notes warming her as much as the hot stew.
"I think Rhys had also wanted to give them a moment to cool down before sending them to deal with the situation," Mor continued. "Though I have no doubt those boys received the beating of their lives once they found them." There was a dark glint in the female's golden eyes that told Emerie she was no stranger to violence.
Of course, Emerie had known who Mor was the first time she'd seen her visit Windhaven with her cousin when she was just a child. Everyone knew of the High Lord's legendary cousin. She was as renowned for her battle prowess as her beauty, something Emerie had seen first hand during the war with Koschei. Still, she sometimes forgot just how old she was, and how much she had seen in the multiple wars she had fought in over the course of five hundred years. That hint of danger in her gaze made her shiver in a not entirely unpleasant way.
"Good," she replied. "I'm only sorry I couldn't be there to see it. Or to help."
"So am I." She held out her glass and Emerie lightly touched the rim with hers. Their eyes met and held over the edge as they both took a sip and that shiver turned into a simmering warmth.
The temperature in the room seemed to rise rapidly for a moment before Mor lowered her glass and looked away leaving Emerie to wonder if she'd just imagined it.
---
Over the next few days, they fell into a pattern of sorts. Emerie was an early riser and would join Bronwyn in the kitchen, helping her prepare breakfast and prep the meals for later in the day while Mor stayed in bed until almost ten when the sun was almost halfway through it's trek across the sky. She'd tease her hostess about her laziness and propensity to waste precious sunlight which she graciously waved away and tried to coax Emerie to join her for a ride which she always refused.
While she spent a few hours with her horses, Emerie would explore the house- which was mostly closed up, the unused rooms dark and musty, their furnishings covered in dust cloths, or wandering through the gardens and the small forest that bordered the house. She'd learned from Able that the estate- Athelwood- was nearly three hundred acres which encompassed a goodly portion of the wooded area, and reached all the way across the rolling hills to the sea. The woods were mostly inhabited by small game animals such as rabbits, but a few deer could occasionally be spotted deeper in.
She'd found a lovely stream that wound through the pines on her first day and had spent some time following it to a miniature waterfall. The location was so picturesque, she found herself wishing she had the artistic ability to sketch it and wondered if the High Lady had ever painted it.
In the afternoons, she and Morrigan would join Bronwyn and Able for an informal luncheon in the kitchens that were always full of lively conversation and after dinner, they would retire to the library to spend the evening reading until bedtime.
Nighttime was the worst. She'd found out that first night that the housekeeper had decided to put them in bedrooms that were adjoined for convenience. She assumed that normally, they would be the master and mistress' chambers. Judging by the decidedly feminine decor of her own room, she'd been placed in the latter.
Every night, Emerie would lie in bed, staring up at the canopy as she tried (and failed) not to think of the beautiful woman sleeping in the room next door. Of her musical laughter and sunny smiles. Her bright humor and easy manner. Of her sparkling eyes like molten gold, and her plush lips that were always painted a tempting shade of red...
Little did she know that the object of her fascination lay on the other side of the wall just a few feet away, trying hard not to think of her own varied charms...
---
On the evening of their fourth night, they'd been sitting quietly in the library, as usual, when Mor gave a loud sigh, shutting her book with a sharp snap. The sound made Emerie nearly jump, her senses hyper focused on every move the woman across from her made as she tried-rather valiantly- to finish her novel.
They'd achieved a new sort of awareness of each other over the last few days as they slowly got to know one another and all it did was ramp up the hopeless crush she'd been harboring since the day she'd seen Morrigan strolling through Windhaven when she was sixteen and her previous hero-like worship had morphed into something more... mature.
Her heart didn't race every time she saw her anymore now that she was getting used to her presence, but she was painfully aware of her location in relation to her own at all times. The little accidental brushes of fingers or shoulders as they moved about the same spaces still sent little electric shocks through her and she was starting to go a little mad with longing.
Attempting to appear perfectly calm and not like she was about to crawl out of her skin from proximity, Emerie glanced up from her book to find Mor pouting towards the fireplace. Sensing her gaze, her golden head swiveled in Emerie's direction.
"I can't seem to focus on reading tonight," she sighed. "No matter how deliciously steamy the love scene..."
Emerie choked slightly, her cheeks heated at the knowledge Morrigan had been reading smut. She mentally added a new fantasy to the extensive collection in her brain, this one of them reading aloud to each other while acting out the scenes written on the pages...
Luckily, Mor didn't seem to be aware of the train of her thoughts as she cocked her head and asked. "Do you play chess?"
She blinked, a little taken aback by the question. "Um, yes?"
Amusement danced in her eyes. "Is that a question?"
"Yes- I mean, no."
She quirked a brow in question and Emerie took a slow breath before answering. "Yes, I do play."
"In that case... care for a game?" she smirked, nodding her head towards the larger table sat near one of the windows where a beautiful marble chess set was laid out.
Feeling her lips twitch into a smile, she nodded and set her book aside. They sat down at the table while Mor moved candles around to provide sufficient light and took the seat across from her. Leaning back in her chair, she smiled mischievously. "Shall we make it interesting?"
Emerie raised a brow, fighting her own smile. She'd been playing with Nesta and Gwyn for the last year and while Nesta was a formidable opponent, Gwyn was a devilishly tricky one who seemed to be a master at letting you think you'd won before executing a few brilliant moves that ended the game before you knew what had happened. She was fairly confident in her skills.
"Sure. What's the wager?"
Mor's eyes narrowed for a moment in thought. "If I win- you let me take you riding tomorrow."
Emerie's eyes widened. "And if I win?"
She shrugged. "Your choice."
She thought about it for a moment, then smiled. "If I win- we visit the beach tomorrow."
Mor scoffed. "I would've taken you there anyway if you'd asked."
She held up a finger, indicating she wasn't finished. "And you get to take a little mid winter swim."
Mor looked startled before tipping her head back with a sultry laugh. "Oh, you are a cruel one, Emerie. I didn't make my own stakes high enough it seems, but very well. I will accept your terms."
She said it so confidently that Emerie felt a flicker of uncertainty but accepted the hand she offered as they shook on the wager. Mor waved a hand, indicating she should start and she moved her queenside bishop's pawn two spaces in a move meant to feel out her opponent's strategy. Mor mirrored her movements and the game commenced.
The match quickly grew intense as it became apparent they were equally matched. They were down to five pieces each, circling one another's queens as they stared each other down across the board. Emerie met Mor's impassive stare with her own, her lips quirking in challenge. The air between them was charged, thick and heavy with tension, making it harder to breath. She was viscerally aware of every minute movement she made and knew their legs sat dangerously close together. She'd felt Mor's knee brush her skirts just a moment ago.
It would be so easy to just lift her foot off the ground and move it a few inches to the right to brush along her calf... Mor's tongue darted out to wet her lips and Emerie tracked the movement with her eyes, watching as the edge of her lip caught between her teeth and found herself biting the inside of her own to keep from launching across the table.
Her entire body was taught with tension, her skin warm and flushed and-
They both jerked as the door opened and Bronwyn bustled in holding a piece of folded paper in her hands. She smiled as she approached, eyeing the chessboard sat between them. "Sorry to interrupt your game, my lady. But this just arrived for you."
She held out the note to Mor and Emerie noted the official Night Court seal on the back. Mor sat straighter as she took it, instantly alert. "Thank you Bronwyn."
Ripping it open, she quickly scanned it, then relaxed. Sensing nothing was amiss, Bronwyn asked "can I get you anything, my lady?"
"Nothing for me, thank you." Emerie nodded her agreement and Bronwyn left them alone again.
"Is everything alright?"
"Oh, yes," Mor said distractedly, tucking the note in a pocket and studying the board once more, the tension of the moment they'd shared before they were interrupted disappearing. Emerie tried not to show her disappointment too badly. "Rhys was just letting me know Cass and Az have taken care of the boys that attacked you. They've been publicly punished and new rules laid out for violent acts committed in public spaces outside of training and tavern brawls. He seems to think it sufficient deterrent against future attacks."
Her tone seemed to suggest she did not agree but said nothing more as she finally moved her queen. "Check."
Emerie quickly moved her king out of danger, only for Mor to move her bishop behind her. "Check."
She moved her queen to block it's path then Mor's knight landed a few spaces away. "Mate."
Emerie flinched, blinking in shock. "Shit." How had she not seen that?
She looked up to see Mor grinning at her. "Meet me at the stables after breakfast. Did you bring your training leathers by chance? You can't ride in those skirts."
"Er-" she glanced down at the rough wool skirt of her dress. "No, but I think I have leggings and a sweater."
Mor hummed. "That might not be warm enough. I should have something you can borrow that will fit well enough to ride in." Standing, she winked. "Good night, darling. See you in the morning."
Emerie just stared after her, mouth agape as she flounced out of the room.
---
The next morning, Emerie shifted uncomfortably in the thick, suede breeches and wool coat Mor had given her to wear over her leggings and sweater as she stared down the massive black beast that had been presented to her by Able.
The animal snorted, it's breath fogging in the chill air and tossed it's head lightly, making her take a reflexive step back. Her movement was impeded by a warm hand on her back. "Relax," Mor said soothingly. Whether to her, or the horse, she wasn't sure. "They can sense fear," she breathed against her ear.
Emerie laughed nervously only to realize Mor wasn't kidding. Staring up into the beast's big, dark eyes, she believed it. She took a deep breath, repeating Gwyn's favored mantra to steady herself and met it's stare with a determined one of her own.
"Very good," Mor purred. Her hand trailed along her arm as she moved around her to stroke the horse's nose. Even through the multiple layers of fabric she could have sworn she felt the heat of that touch. "Emerie, this is Odette. Odette, meet Emerie."
At her encouraging smile, Emerie inched closer and held out a hand. The animal tossed it's head again and she flinched, but held steady, and was rewarded when the beast pressed it's snout into her hand. Mor's hand wrapped around her forearm and pulled her closer, urging her to pet the horse's neck.
She did so and both beast and rider seemed to calm.
"Well done," Mor praised, giving the animal a pat. "Odette only looks big and scary but she's a big softie, aren't you?" Odette snorted in return.
Mor grinned, stepping back. "Why don't you try mounting?"
Emerie raised a questioning brow and Mor gesture to the saddle. "Hook your foot there, and pull yourself up. Once you're standing, swing your other leg over and hook your foot in the other strap."
With a bracing breath, she did as instructed. It was a bit awkward with her wings, but once she was settled, Mor handed the reins to her. "There, see? Not so scary."
Emerie scoffed. "We haven't started moving yet."
Mor grinned. "That's the fun part. Moving around to her own white horse, she swung gracefully up into the saddle and turned her mount towards the door. Odette began to follow without prompting from Emerie and she gasped, holding on for dear life.
Behind them, Able laughed. "Have fun!"
Once outside the stables, Mor rode alongside her for a few minutes, correcting her posture and instructing her on how to steer and direct the horse to stop. Confident Emerie understood well enough, she kicked Ellia into a light trot and once again, Odette followed without prompting.
As they moved across the fields lightly dusted with snow, Emerie gradually began to relax, allowing herself to fully soak in the moment. The beast's movements under her thighs were strong and steady and she felt surprisingly safe. Then, Mor grinned back at her over her shoulder before digging her heels into Ellia's side.
She took off like a shot and a scream tore out of her as Odette followed. Once the initial burst of fear subsided, her scream turned to a giddy laugh as she leaned over the horse's back and felt the wind rushing past her face, pulling her braid out behind her. The cold gust moved over her wings, stimulating sensations she hadn't felt in years and she felt tears spring to her eyes as joy filled her heart.
It felt like flying.
Emerie laughed harder, not entirely sure if the heaving in her chest was not a sob as tears streamed down her face. Mor glanced back with a frown but she paid her no mind as her horse, sensing her elation, put on a burst of speed and ran past Mor and Ellia. Something primal and instinctive took over and she threw her arms and wings wide, tilting her head back to the cloudy sky and cried out, the sound equal parts joy and sorrow.
Eventually her horse slowed as they neared the beach, breathing hard and slick with sweat. Mor caught up and pulled alongside her. "Are you alright?" she asked, eyeing the tears Emerie wiped from her cheeks.
She beamed. "Yes. Yes, I-" she was more than alright. She felt- free. For the first time in a very long time. Probably for the first time in her life. Finding her chosen sisters and joining the Valkyrie had felt a lot like breaking the chains that her family had tried to hold her with for so long but this... this felt like shedding them completely. They'd tried to take this feeling away from her, but she'd found it again. All thanks to the woman beside her. "Thank you."
Mor looked bemused. Emerie let out another breathy laugh and explained. "I haven't been able to fly since-" she gestured to the scars on her wings. "And that, I think, was about the closest thing to it I've felt in a very long time."
Understanding lit Mor's eyes and they sparkled with tears of her own. "You're very welcome, Emerie. I'm glad I could help."
The horses slowed further when they reached the sand and Mor reached out to bring them both to a stop. She slipped smoothly from her saddle and Emerie mimicked her movements, her booted feet soon finding the ground, albeit a bit more wobbly, but she was still too high from the ride to care.
They let the horses wander as they grazed through the grass nearby and Emerie took her first proper look at the ocean. "Wow," she breathed, watching the waves build and crash onto the shore, rolling over one another in a churning mass of deep blue that reminded her of her friend's eyes.
"Have you never seen the ocean?"
Emerie shook her head, not glancing away from the view before her. It was breathtaking, a sort of violent beauty that stirred her soul and eased her mind. "We're not close enough in Windhaven. I'd only ever seen lakes and streams before I came to Velaris for the first time."
Mor hummed thoughtfully. "Another first... I'm honored."
Her cheeks warmed and she laughed slightly. "It's beautiful."
"It is," Mor said, glancing at her. "Want to see something even more amazing?"
She turned to her, giving her a curious smile and nodded. Her grin felt big enough to split her face when Mor took her hand and pulled her further down the beach. She tugged her jacket tighter around her body as they walked, the wind feeling much colder here as she followed along.
After a few minutes of walking, they approached a collection of large rocks and headed toward them. "Watch your step," Mor warned as they moved over slick, waved smoothed stones and around the side of the large formation, only- it wasn't a rock formation. It was the mouth of a cave.
Mor gave her a grin full of child-like excitement she couldn't help but match as she pulled her inside. The sharp wind cut off, for which Emerie was grateful as they moved deeper into the rocky cavern. The walls were rough and jagged and it got gradually darker as they moved out of the sunlight. Suddenly, Mor tugged her around a corner and she let out a gasp.
They'd entered a long, low ceilinged cavern, the floor covered in water. The walls- "It's glowing!" he said in wonder.
Tiny, bright blue pricks of light covered the walls and ceilings, casting the whole space in an ethereal glow, reflected back by the water below. It reminded her of the night sky.
"Bioluminescent algae," Mor explained. "It's everywhere here, even on the beach, but you can't see it during the day. We can only see it here because it's dark."
"It's incredible." They grinned at each other, still holding hands and Emerie didn't think she could imagine a more perfect moment.
---
Mor woke with a start, her blades instantly in her hands as she glanced around her dark room, searching for the threat. She was somewhat surprised to find she'd actually been sleeping. Both she and Emerie had been exhausted after spending the day exploring the beaches, riding back to the house just as the sun was setting and had gone to bed straight after dinner instead of going to the library.
Even still, once she'd gotten into bed, she'd lain awake for a long time, her fingers stroking over the hand that had held Emerie's all day long as they walked and talked and laughed together. She could swear she still felt the heat of it against her palm.
She heard a sound from beyond the wall of her room and realized what had woken her. Bolting out of bed, not bothering to throw on a robe over the tiny, satin night dress she wore, she raced into Emerei's room, heart pounding, for once grateful that Bronwyn had put them in adjoining rooms.
She relaxed slightly once she'd scanned the room and found no threat, but it was short lived as she found Emerie thrashing and crying on the bed. Dismissing her blades, she rushed over, and took her firmly by the shoulders, shaking her. She cried out, screaming in her face loud enough to hurt her ears but blinked awake.
Her eyes were wild as they darted around, not seeming to see her until they settled on her face and the haze of terror cleared. "It's alright," Mor whispered, running her hands over her trembling arms. "You're safe. It was just a dream."
Emerie's dark gaze searched hers for truth before nodding her acceptance of it. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Mor stroked her fingers through the long, silky strands of her hair that hung loose around her shoulders, her braid having unraveled with her thrashing. Wild, dark, untamed curls that spilled down to her waist in a waterfall she desperately wanted to feel on her skin.
Blinking hard, she shook off her arousal. Now was definitely not the time for such thoughts. She kept moving her fingers through her hair and stroking her cheeks until her trembling began to subside. "Was it your attack?" she asked quietly.
Emerie's gaze had gone distant again, staring at some point on Mor'c chest though she didn't seem to actually be looking at her. Slowly, she shook her head. "No." Her voice was hoarse and small, making Mor want to cradle her in her arms.
She didn't press her for more details. She'd share if she wanted to. Instead she just kept running her hands over her in soothing gestures which she didn't seem to mind. Eventually she said, "It was my father this time."
This time. She had nightmares before. Quite often, if she had to guess. Not surprising given what she had been through between the Blood Rite, her attack, and the battle with Koschei. Not to mention whatever had happened when she'd earned the scars on her wings as they'd been clipped.
"He was always angry," she said softly. "And he was always drunk. And I was his favorite target... after my mother died."
Mor sat frozen as Emerie laid out the deeds of her father in a numb, distant sort of tone that she fully recognized. Because she'd used it herself many times. By the time she was finished, Mor was trembling with grief for the things this incredible female had endured and survived, and boiling rage for a man who was dead and gone.
At some point, their hands had found each other, and their fingers had woven together. It was through the strength of that grip that she found herself sharing her own story. The abuse and fear she'd lived through under that mountain until she'd begged Rhys to get her out. The pain she'd paid as the price of her freedom and the scars she now bore because of it.
When she was finished, both of them were crying. Emerie squeezed her hand, pulling her gently onto the bed and she climbed under the covers beside her without a word. In the silent darkness, they clung to one another for strength, crying bitter, cathartic tears for the innocence that had been stolen from them until sleep claimed them once more
---
There was a definitive shift in their relationship after that night. It wasn't anything sexual, at least, not yet, but they'd developed the sort of closeness that comes from baring one's soul to another living being.
After their trip to the beach, Emerie no longer needed Mor to convince her to come riding with her in the mornings and they spent almost every waking second together, growing ever closer.
One evening, during the second week of their stay, Mor returned downstairs after bathing to find the library empty. Emerie was not waiting there for her as she had every night and Mor, curious, had set off to find her.
She located her in the kitchen, groaning as she stepped inside. "What is that delicious smell?" she asked, eyeing the dark brown dough Bronwyn was rolling out on the counter as Emerie's focus was on the shapes she was cutting out of it and placing on baking sheets scattered around the counter.
Flour dusted every surface and a litany of spices covered the counter. Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves...
"Gingerbread," Emerie answered with a smile. "A recipe I learned from my mother as a child. It used to be a tradition every Solstice." She carefully lifted the shape she'd just cut into her hand and placed it on a sheet before moving to another. "We'd cut some out and decorate them like tiny faeries, while the rest we baked into larger pieces to build a house."
"For the gingerbread faeries?" Mor asked, amused as she moved closer to watch her work.
Emerei's cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink but she nodded. "We used all sort of candies to decorate with," she nodded towards the array of sweets in little glass jars. "It's fun."
"Hmm," Mor hummed, intrigued. "How long until we can start decorating?"
Bronwyn chuckled. "The dough has already been chilled. Once we're finished cuttting all the shapes we want, we can start baking. Shouldn't be more than about two hours until they're all done."
Mor pouted, not looking forward to testing her patience with so much sugar displayed before her. Emerie laughed. "Don't worry, we'll do the pieces for the house first so they cool while the others are baking. Probably less than an hour before their cool enough to use."
Satisfied, Mor accepted a large mug full of soup from Able and the two sat together at the counter watching Bronwyn and Emerie work. By the time all the pieces for the house were baked and cooled, Mor was practically dancing in her seat with excitement.
When they were ready and had all the icing made and the decorations laid out, Emerie patiently instructed her on how to assemble the pieces so they would stay and the proper way to hold the icing bag. At one point, Mor put a little too much pressure and the bag exploded, spraying her sweater and hair with globs of white icing which made Emerie laugh so hard she cried until Mor retaliated by squirting icing in her face and a minature food fight began.
The kitchen was a mess of powdered sugar and icing when they were done but both grinned ear to ear as they examined the slightly lopsided structure with mismatched decorations and the tiny fairie people they'd dressed in ridiculous costumes with silly faces. Mor couldn't recall ever having so much fun in her life.
"Not bad," Emerie said, tilting her head to examine the candy studded 'snow' that was dripping off one side of the roof.
Mor snorted rather indelicately. "Don't lie to me, Em. It's terrible. But I love it. We should do this with the rest of the group next year. Feyre and Elain will undoubtedly make the prettiest ones, but I'd love to see boys try. I can imagine the ridiculousness Cass would come up with."
"Or how Az and Gwyn would bicker over the 'right way' to build the house for so long they wouldn't even finish."
They grinned at each other and it took Mor a moment to realize she'd been talking about next Solstice as though she fully expected Emerie to be there with her. She seemed to realize it too and her smile slipped slightly.
Her breathing grew a bit ragged as they stared at other, studying the bits of sugar smeared on thier faces and trying very hard not to let their gazes linger on the other's lips. Gradually, as though pulled by some invisible force, they drifted closer until thier noses were almost brushing-
The clock in the hall chimed midnight and the spell was broken. Jumping apart, Mor looked away, realizing they were alone. Bronwyn and Able must have left them some time ago but neither had even noticed. She also finally took in the mess they'd made and grimaced. "We should clean this up for Bronwyn so she doesn't have fit in the morning."
"Right," Emerie cleared her throat, glancing around for a rag but with a snap of Mor's fingers, the mess disappeared. She wiped at her cheek, marveling that the sugar and icing was gone. "I still feel sticky," she said , wrinkling her nose.
"Yeah, that's the odd thing about magic," Mor agreed. "The mess is gone but you can still feel it on you. I'm afraid nothing but a bath will take care of that."
"Right..." They shared another charged look before Mor chickened out and quickly backed out of the room, faking a yawn.
"Well, we should get to bed, it's late. I'm sure you've noticed by now your bathroom has running water, so no need to wait for someone to help fill it if you want to wash up. I'll see you tomorrow!"
She dashed up to her room and shut herself in the bathing room, hurriedly rinsing the lingering stickiness from her skin before crawling into bed alone. A strange feeling as, ever since Emerie had that nightmare, they'd spent every night in the same bed, wether her's or Emerie's. Nothing ever happened, they just sat up all night talking and giggling until they couldn't keep their eyes open but it had been.... nice.
The next day, it was almost as though nothing had happened the night before though the tension between them had once more shifted becoming something thicker and hotter though both were still too scard to make a move.
Of course, eventually all good things must come to an end...
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The Death Of A Horse
Volume 1: Fantine; Book 3: In The Year 1817; Chapter 8: The Death Of A Horse
“The dinners are better at Édon’s than at Bombarda’s,” exclaimed Zéphine.
“I prefer Bombarda to Édon,” declared Blachevelle. “There is more luxury. It is more Asiatic. Look at the room downstairs; there are mirrors [glaces] on the walls.”
“I prefer them [glaces, ices] on my plate,” said Favourite.
Blachevelle persisted:—
“Look at the knives. The handles are of silver at Bombarda’s and of bone at Édon’s. Now, silver is more valuable than bone.”
“Except for those who have a silver chin,” observed Tholomyès.
He was looking at the dome of the Invalides, which was visible from Bombarda’s windows.
A pause ensued.
“Tholomyès,” exclaimed Fameuil, “Listolier and I were having a discussion just now.”
“A discussion is a good thing,” replied Tholomyès; “a quarrel is better.”
“We were disputing about philosophy.”
“Well?”
“Which do you prefer, Descartes or Spinoza?”
“Désaugiers,” said Tholomyès.
This decree pronounced, he took a drink, and went on:—
“I consent to live. All is not at an end on earth since we can still talk nonsense. For that I return thanks to the immortal gods. We lie. One lies, but one laughs. One affirms, but one doubts. The unexpected bursts forth from the syllogism. That is fine. There are still human beings here below who know how to open and close the surprise box of the paradox merrily. This, ladies, which you are drinking with so tranquil an air is Madeira wine, you must know, from the vineyard of Coural das Freiras, which is three hundred and seventeen fathoms above the level of the sea. Attention while you drink! three hundred and seventeen fathoms! and Monsieur Bombarda, the magnificent eating-house keeper, gives you those three hundred and seventeen fathoms for four francs and fifty centimes.”
Again Fameuil interrupted him:—
“Tholomyès, your opinions fix the law. Who is your favorite author?”
“Ber—”
“Quin?”
“No; Choux.”
And Tholomyès continued:—
“Honor to Bombarda! He would equal Munophis of Elephanta if he could but get me an Indian dancing-girl, and Thygelion of Chæronea if he could bring me a Greek courtesan; for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas in Greece and in Egypt. Apuleius tells us of them. Alas! always the same, and nothing new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in creation! Nil sub sole novum, says Solomon; amor omnibus idem, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of womanhood met; she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress should be needed for Prometheus.”
Tholomyès, once started, would have found some difficulty in stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just at that moment. The shock caused the cart and the orator to come to a dead halt. It was a Beauceron mare, old and thin, and one fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very heavy cart. On arriving in front of Bombarda’s, the worn-out, exhausted beast had refused to proceed any further. This incident attracted a crowd. Hardly had the cursing and indignant carter had time to utter with proper energy the sacramental word, Mâtin (the jade), backed up with a pitiless cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never to rise again. On hearing the hubbub made by the passers-by, Tholomyès’ merry auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyès took advantage of the opportunity to bring his allocution to a close with this melancholy strophe:—
“Elle était de ce monde ou coucous et carrosses
Ont le même destin;
Et, rosse, elle a vécu ce que vivant les rosses,
L’espace d’un mâtin!” 3
“Poor horse!” sighed Fantine.
And Dahlia exclaimed:—
“There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses. How can one be such a pitiful fool as that!”
At that moment Favourite, folding her arms and throwing her head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyès and said:—
“Come, now! the surprise?”
��Exactly. The moment has arrived,” replied Tholomyès. “Gentlemen, the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has struck. Wait for us a moment, ladies.”
“It begins with a kiss,” said Blachevelle.
“On the brow,” added Tholomyès.
Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress’s brow; then all four filed out through the door, with their fingers on their lips.
Favourite clapped her hands on their departure.
“It is beginning to be amusing already,” said she.
“Don’t be too long,” murmured Fantine; “we are waiting for you.”
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* ── [ anya taylor joy , cis woman , she + her . ] : in the frays of king aerys iii's reign , therein remains kyra fossoway , the twenty - four year old lady of cider hall . rumor has it that their loyalties lie with house tyrell + targaryen and they are neutral to the targaryen reign . they're so discerning + educated that it makes sense , but most seem to look past their garrulous + opportunistic nature . when they come up in conversation , i'm always reminded of licking honey from sticky fingers, elegant neck dripping in freshwater pearls, & a glossy red apple, core black with rot .
cw ─ deaths, abuse, murders.
stats ,
name. kyra fossoway.
age. twenty - four.
titles. lady of cider hall.
gender / pronouns. cis woman / she + her.
sexuality. bisexual.
religion. faith of the seven.
alliance. houses hightower, tyrell, & targaryen.
relationship status. unmarried.
children. none.
history ,
her history’s bloodstained before she even arrives. lord sandor fossoway is a great many things ─ respected, capable, intelligent ─ but he is not kind. he’s a minor lord, selfish and grasping at whatever wisps of power he manages to cling to. his first wife gives him two children, but only one survives to adulthood, and when it becomes clear she’ll give him no more sons, she outlives her usefulness. her death is widely regarded an accident: only the stableboys and washerwomen speak the truth, in hushed tones.
his second wife, lady myranda, is much too young for him, and much more promising. within a year of their marriage she delivers him two children, kyra and davon, twins. lord fossoway has his heir, but the pregnancy takes a toll on lady myranda, and she studiously avoids another pregnancy, through whatever methods she has at her disposal.
when little davon, only six years old, falls ill and dies, a pall falls over the household from which it will never recover. lord fossoway will have his heir if it kills him, while his wife adamantly refuses him. when the second lady fossoway dies, even the household staff know to hold their tongue. kyra’s father doesn’t remarry, despite his efforts ─ even with cider hall’s riches, few lords want to marry their daughters to an old man who’s already lost two healthy young wives.
this is the blood that feeds the ground from which kyra sprouts. and she’s a wretched little creature, girl beaten like hot steel into the shape of a blade. her father gives her half love, half disdain ─ as his daughter, his beauty, his prized mare, she’s perfect. as his heir, she is worth less to him than the dirt under his shoes. despite his hatred of bastards ( dishonorable, dirty ) he invites one of his own to cider hall, training the boy into a son without ever giving him his name. it’s a cruelty, but one kyra rarely acknowledges, absorbed as she is in her own unhappiness.
unhappy as she is, at least kyra learns, and learns fast. this is what she knows: love and family mean nothing, just different words for shackles. nothing she has in this world is hers, and no one will give her more, she must take it. anything worth having is worth bleeding for. if she does not do for herself, who will ? and so she applies herself to becoming the perfect lady, to retaining her slipping grasp on the title of heir to cider hall and keeping her bastard brother’s hands from her birthright.
she goes to king’s landing to serve the queen with only one goal in mind: to climb the ladder, with whatever strength she has. it’s a risk, to leave cider hall to her father’s waning wits, but the opportunities offered by the capital, by the queen’s favor, are too great to pass up.
in the employ of the targaryen queen, she finds herself surprisingly useful. she’s just a young girl, happy to play the fool or the gossip or even the whore if it means gleaning some information to pass on to her mistress. and if she keeps some tidbits to herself, hoarding secrets like precious jewels, who’s to tell ? and if in the end it costs her her head ? well, she’ll be the prettiest face to ever grace the city walls ..
personality ,
+ discerning, educated, graceful, fearless, meticulous.
- garrulous, opportunistic, self-serving, superficial, vengeful.
plots ,
extended family ─ ok so lord fossoway’s had two wives, both of whom don’t have families set yet , if anyone wanted their family to have like ? a dead aunt/cousin/sister/whatever ? and ofc if related to lord fossoway’s second wife they could be kyra’s cousins !
failed betrothal ─ think this would be very fun bc kyra would absolutely be so mad about it. happy to plot details like how / why / when it all went down but honestly her just being a horrible person is good enough reason i think. bonus points if they’re very powerful in some way bc that would piss her off so bad.
flirtationships / fwb ─ so she’ll flirt w. just about anyone because she’s an absolute menace, so i’ll take a bunch of these ! maybe there’s mutual interest, maybe they hate her and cannot stand her annoying teasing, maybe she’s just fucking w. them, maybe she’s hooking up w them for secrets and crimes, maybe they’re high power and she thinks they’ll fall in love w. her, honestly options are endless !
gal pals ─ she’s very girly, likes talking about clothes and romance and especially likes talking shit about other people. that’s literally her favorite pastime. any heinous women out there who would put up w that ? bring ‘em here.
informants ─ people who give her information ( duh kit .. ) maybe they’re friends who don’t realize she’s lowkey selling them out, maybe they’re hooking up for info, maybe they work for a different kingdom & are trading info, maybe they’re actually manipulating her by feeding her bad intel, idk ! have lots of thoughts
bad influence ─ not that she needs it, she’s horrible on her own. but someone who’s trying to use her, & her position / closeness to the queen, for their own advantage ? and i gotta say if they can offer her anything halfway appealing she won’t even hesitate. i hate her
enemies ─ the best, and still my favorite type of plot. don’t even need a single excuse, kyra’s just heinous. was she mean to them ? someone they loved ? do they just see right through her glossy veneer and into the deep emptiness beneath ? do they not trust her ? do they think she’s just a stupid little girl ? are they manipulating her for something, or being manipulated by her ? which one of them will physically threaten the other but with a lil bit of sexual tension thrown in ? many questions .. gimme answers
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Daughter of the Revolution: Part 8
An intruder in the woods
In 24 parts, based on a post by Seethegood. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.
Rose and June chose to cook a light dinner and while they did so, Abby and Alec crawled into bed. She rested her head on his chest, wriggling her nose like a rabbit when his crispy chest hair tickled her. In minutes he was sleeping and she spent her time with him caressing his broad chest, running her nails through his hair and listening to his strong heartbeat while she gazed at his handsome profile. She could feel herself falling ever deeper in love with him day by day it seemed.
She had just nodded off when June traced the hair back from her brow and kissed her forehead. "Dinner is served, Mistress, if you're hungry," she whispered quietly.
"Oh, June. Thank you, my sweet." Abby roused her man and the foursome had a delicious dinner together, enjoying a nice bottle of wine Abby had liberated from one of their caches. Alec insisted on doing the cleanup and almost had to spank little June to keep her from taking over his duties while the other two girls laughed in delight at the pair's antics.
When his chores were completed, Alec sat in his armchair and had another glass of wine while Abby sat at his feet. Rose started a nice fire in the stone fireplace and soon the evening chill left the cabin. Abby looked up at him and watched him as he stared into the flames, deep in thought with his brow creased in worry. She suspected his mind was on their upcoming journey and the troubles that would inevitably arise along the way, and she hated to see him like this. Glancing at her girlfriends she noticed that they too had fallen silent and were carefully watching him as well, picking up on his mood. She rose gracefully to her feet and offered him a hand.
"Come with us," she said softly. She led him to the bear skin that lay on the floor in front of the fire and pulled him down to lay on his back. Rose retrieved their pillows and together the girls surrounded him with their warm, naked bodies and soon drove all negative thoughts from his head with their kisses and caressing hands.
Their mood was slow and tender. Rose chose to simply lay on her side and caress anyone that came within her reach while Abby pushed June atop him. She rode with exquisite skill for nearly fifteen minutes while Abby kissed him and made love to his chest and hard belly with her soft lips.
The girls made it all about his pleasure this time and June left him gleaming with sweat and panting lightly. June slid off him and laid beside him while Rose licked him clean of his and June's combined juices.
He pulled Abby up over his mouth with her facing his feet and she watched Rose, until she soaked his face and chin in her sweet juice.
When Abby recovered her breath she slid off his face and straddled his hips while Rose slid to the side to accommodate her. Abby wedged his thick head in her pussy and tenderly took him deep inside her. He groaned as her tightness squeezed him in her hot, wet tunnel while he looked up at her beautiful blue eyes that were staring down at him intensely. For several minutes she worked above him, her sweet breasts gleaming with perspiration from the warm fire in her loins.
She lowered herself to his chest and whispered in his ear. "Just relax.”
Slowly, they wound down and with happy little sighs of completion, the foursome snuggled together and dozed off lightly by the fire. Sometime later as the room chilled, June roused them up and got them all into bed, then tucked them in warm blankets and together they slept like the dead.
The following morning, Abby was sitting on the porch swing drinking her coffee when she noticed her horse lift her head and look into the forest, then resume browsing in the grass. Abby continued watched her from the corner of her eye and the mare repeated her actions twice more in just a few minutes. Abby casually finished her coffee and strode inside the cabin.
"We may have company," she announced calmly, catching everyone's attention immediately. She explained what she'd seen and quickly outlined a plan for the group.
"I'll take my rifle and slide out the back window, then circle around in the forest in the direction my mare was looking. Rose and Alec, you two standby inside with your rifles and watch carefully out front. June, give me ten minutes then take a bucket of water and go out on the porch and wash up. Don't be afraid to show a little skin sultriness. If someone's out there we may need every advantage. Leave the door open though, so you can run inside if the shooting starts, sound good?"
"No it doesn't sound good," Alec growled. "I don't want you out there alone, sweetheart. I'm coming with you!"
"Lover, you can't fit through the back window with that big body of yours. Besides, I can handle myself, you know that. If you hear a shot, come running though," she said reasonably.
He was red in the face and getting angry, so she quickly pulled him down and smothered him in hot kisses until his broad shoulders sagged in defeat.
"Damn it, Angel. How come you always seem to win these difficult arguments?" he grumped.
"Get used to it, big man!" Rose exclaimed while stifling laughter. "I don't believe I've ever won a tussle with her in all these years."
"Time's a-waisting, is everyone good?" Abby said in an urgent voice.
"I'm good, damn it to hell!" Alec grumbled and picked up his rifle.
Abby pulled him down to whisper in his ear. "I love you, Heavy. Lots and lots."
He squeezed her until her little ribs almost cracked. "I love you too, Angel. Come back safe."
She slid out the back window and he handed out her rifle and rapier along with her powder horn and bullet pouch. She kissed his big hand, then turned and disappeared in the forest like a puff of smoke.
She started making a careful circle around the clearing and in just a couple minutes picked out the shape of a horse tethered to a tree about 50 yards away from the cabin. It's ears were perked up and it was looking at the west side of the clearing. Abby carefully eased in that direction with every sense she had available on high alert.
The sun was just rising in the east and she cupped her hand over her brow to shade her eyes. For nearly five minutes she stood completely still and listened while her eyes swept the area in front of her. Finally, she saw a small movement at the edge of the clearing between her and the cabin. She thought she could see a man lying prone on the ground, and like her, he had his hands covering his eyes as he looked directly east into the sunrise.
She heard the cabin door squeak open and the faint sound of June singing to herself as she began her morning ablutions. The man's head rose slightly and Abby knew he was watching June intently. Before she moved towards him she again scanned her surroundings for any danger but couldn't pick up any other signs that bothered her.
June's voice rose high and sweet in the morning air, drowning the tiny sounds of Abby moving in on the unsuspecting stranger. As she got closer to him, June came into view. She was naked from the waist up and was rinsing herself down with a wet rag. Her dusky breasts were high and firm on her chest and her dark nipples stuck out as hard as diamonds from the cold water.
Good ol' June, Abby thought to herself, the man didn't stand a chance. As she slid to within 20 feet of him, June dropped her skirt and raised a bare leg to the top of the porch handrail, exposing her shaven pubis to the world. Humming energetically, she dipped her rag in the bucket and took her time wiping herself clean.
Abby heard a gasp from her target and he shuffled uncomfortably on his belly as his burgeoning cock tried to find room in his trousers. In a few silent steps she was directly behind him and she poked the barrel of her rifle to the back of his neck. He stiffened immediately and a stream of curses left his mouth as he let his face fall in defeat to the forest floor
"You fucking got me you bastard, son of a bitch!" he complained. "Someone finally got the drop on ol' Duncan Yates, damn you to hell!"
The tension left Abby's body and a smile came to her face. "Mister Yates? I'm so sorry! I'm Abigail Durham!"
The man rolled over and a look of surprise came over his craggy old face.
"Mistress Durham! What in the fuh I mean what in the world are you doing here?"
She offered him a hand and pulled his slight frame to his feet. She gave him a big hug while he stuttered for words to say to the blonde beauty.
"I hope you don't mind too much, sir. We've had use of your cabin for several months. I read your note and figured you may never return," she said tentatively.
"Of course I don't mind. I didn't think I was coming back either. This war's been hell on this old man, but I've survived so far."
"Can I welcome you back to your cabin then?" she asked a bit sheepishly. "I have three companions with me as well."
"I've met one of them from a distance," he quipped. "You're just like your father, a devious young lady when need be. That show on the porch was for my benefit wasn't it?"
She lowered her eyes and giggled. "Yes sir, it was, and worked quite well in fact."
He laughed uproariously and clapped a hand to his knee. "Well, you snookered this old man fair and square, young lady. I'll be telling stories of this til the day I die."
She took his arm and tugged him towards the cabin. "Shall we?"
"Coming in, June! All's well!" she called out and together they approached the old man's cabin. The three companions met them at the porch and Abby made introductions all around. Duncan's eyes were wide in astonishment as he took in the three beauties all standing together, along with the tall man beside them.
"My word, man. Have you been living under my roof with these three young ladies? You're the most fortunate man in creation!" he exclaimed in wonder. The girls all blushed at his words and Alec's chest puffed out a little. He was proud to have them and wasn't afraid to show it.
"You look hungry and tired, sir. May I make something for you to eat?" June asked politely.
"I'll not turn down a good meal, Miss June. My thanks to you indeed."
She blushed at his words, rarely had anyone ever addressed her as Miss and she thought it was quite wonderful. They went inside and he exclaimed at how clean and well kept his cabin was and was equally surprised at the large bed Alec had built. He didn't mention their sleeping arrangements of course, but Abby saw the wheels turning in his wizened head and knew he suspected the truth.
While he ate, the companions answered his many questions about how they'd survived and continued taking the battle to the enemy. He informed them he'd been up north and knew that George was alive and well and giving the redcoats hell.
"In fact, he and his militia are steadily moving south, in this direction. Do know of Blenheim Plantation, Abby?" he asked.
"I've heard of it but I'm not sure where it's at."
"It's maybe three day's ride north of here. I've heard he intends to stop his drive south there to resupply and rest his troops. They've been on a real tear lately."
"That's wonderful!" she cried out. "We were just planning on heading north tomorrow to see if we could find him." She quickly filled him in on the letter she'd found from her father, and how she'd thought he was dead these long months.
"Well, I can assure you he's alive a thorn in the redcoats ass! Whoops, sorry, ma'am. I'm not used to being around such lovely ladies," he apologized with a red face.
She giggled and waved it off. "Don't worry Mister Yates, I've heard much worse. By the way, we have quite a lot of food and supplies at various caches around here. If you're staying home you're welcome to them. We had an excellent garden this year and all the produce is in a cool cave just a short distance from here."
His eyes misted over and he clasped her hands in his. "Oh thank you, Mistress. I really didn't know how I was going to feed myself this coming winter, a man can't live on venison alone you know."
"Well, there's something else too," she offered. "We have a milk cow with a yearling calf you're welcome to. We were just going to set her loose in the morning."
A tear ran down his rugged cheek and he knelt to kiss her hand. "Oh, you're such a blessing to this old man. I can never thank you enough for your kindness."
"You're the blessing, Mister Yates. We'd have had a rough go of it without the shelter of your cabin. I firmly believe it saved our lives."
The rest of the day they prepared to leave, and in the afternoon Alec and Abby showed the old man where the root cellar was. He was more than appreciative and swore he'd repay them somehow.
It was obvious to the foursome that the fellow had experienced a rough time in the last few months and their hearts went out to him. Abby pulled June aside and whispered an idea in her ear. June looked a bit surprised, but by the end of the conversation she was nodding eagerly.
Alec set about hauling water to heat on the stove and fireplace and when it was hot, Abby set her plan in motion. They moved the bathing tub out on the porch and filled it with piping hot water as the old man watched them curiously but remained silent. June opened a bottle of whiskey and filled a mug to the brim and set it near the tub, then she packed Alec's pipe and did the same with it. The old man was sitting at the kitchen table when Abby approached him and held out her hand.
"Will you do me a favor, Mister Yates?"
"Only if you call me, Duncan, Mistress."
"I like that, thank you, Duncan. And you may call me Abby, please. All my friends do." She gave him a beautiful smile that melted his crusty old heart.
"Come with me, please."
She tugged him outside where June met him with a washrag and soap in her more than capable hands.
"June offered to help you clean up and get you comfortable. It's just a small way that we can repay you," she offered.
His eyes widened in surprise. "Um, you mean for me to get in the tub? Naked?"
"Yes, Duncan. Please do. June is quite versed in matters like this, she's tended to me for years."
He eyed Abby askance for a few moments, taking in the confidence and authority in her blue eyes, then all resistance left him in a rush. His bony shoulders sagged and he almost wobbled on his feet. June steadied him and started peeling his filthy clothes from his sparse frame.
"Thank you, Mistress Abby. I'll never forget your kindness," he said softly.
"We'll be inside if you require anything, June," Abby ordered, then went inside and firmly closed the door.
June set her mind to doing her best for the old fellow. She gently scrubbed his hair, head and face while he sputtered and spit water everywhere. When it came time to stand him up, he protested vehemently but she was adamant and eventually he had no choice but to capitulate. He stood awkwardly while she soaped him up and scrubbed him briskly then rinsed him down. He continually covered himself with his hands and she had to talk him into letting her continue.
"Sweetheart, please let me take care of you. I don't want to embarrass you, I just want to make you feel good and clean. Besides, I think you've seen a bit more of me than I've seen you," she teased.
He looked at her and saw her beautiful smile and he let loose with a huge laugh. "Now that's the honest truth, Miss June. Fair's fair I reckon!"
He shyly dropped his hands and she took his cock in her own small ones.
"Well my stars! Mister Duncan, where ever did you hide such a large member! I've never seen the like!" she complimented with a convincing smile. His chest puffed out and he gave her a huge grin.
"I've been known to satisfy a few lasses over the years you know."
"I'm sure you have, my word, what a cannon!"
He smiled proudly as she gently soaped and rinsed him clean. He did grow a bit in her hands and sported a decent six inches of cock. Quite impressive for an older gentleman she thought. He never got more than semi-hard and she chalked it up to his shyness and old age. Not offended in the least, she finished rinsing him off, then bailed some old dirty water from the tub and called to Alec for a refill. He promptly topped the tub off with piping hot water and June returned Duncan to it's depths. She handed him the mug of whiskey and lit his pipe for him.
He watched her with wide eyes as she tended to his needs. He'd never been so pampered in his long life. As he settled back to soak in the heat she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
"Are you doing okay, Mister Yates? Can I do anything else for you?" she asked gently.
"No, Miss June. I'm in heaven right now thanks to you. You're truly a remarkable woman," he stated with a contented smile.
"I'll leave you to enjoy yourself. It was my pleasure to serve you, sir."
She gave him a wink and wandered inside to see what her companions were up to. Abby had washed Duncan's filthy clothes along with a few pair he'd left behind in the house and was drying them in front of the fireplace.
Rose and Alec were working on a celebration dinner in honor of Mister Duncan and his cabin that had become such an important part of their lives.
Venison, smoked ham, steamed vegetables and fresh bread with butter were on the menu tonight, along with Abby's favorite vintage of wine she'd squirreled away.
When dinner was ready, June went out to rouse Duncan from the tub. She dried him off and helped him dress in his freshly washed clothes. She then took him inside and they all sat at the table, although it was somewhat tight seating. Alec led them in saying grace, then Abby served Duncan first as a sign of respect for the older gentleman. By the time dinner was over, poor Duncan's eyelids were drooping and he almost slid off his chair when he nearly fell asleep. June helped him to the huge bed where he halfheartedly protested her, but she insisted and stripped him naked, then tucked him in, and in just a handful of seconds he was snoring deeply. Abby giggled and made a sigh of happiness.
"Thank you so much, June. He'll never forget today as long as he lives."
"I didn't mind, he's such a sweet old man. I think he'd make an excellent husband for some lucky lady."
The foursome made short order of cleaning up after dinner, then they settled in, sipping wine. Abby perched on Alec's lap and snuggled into his warmth with a contented sigh while Rose and June reclined on the rug.
"I'm gonna hate leaving this place in the morning, but on the other hand I'm so excited to see Papa and William. It sounds like they may not be so far away, just a few days ride," Abby said, with a bit of melancholy.
Everyone nodded in agreement and the group became silent as they all thought of the good and bad times they'd shared among themselves.
Soon, Alec stirred. "I'm plumb tired," he stated. "Where's everyone gonna sleep at?"
"I'm sleeping with Mister Yates," June stated, surprising everyone. "He's such a sweet fellow and I think he deserves to sleep with a woman every now and then. Everyone needs some good in their lives and I know he'll appreciate it."
Rose stared at June, thoughts churning in her mind and Abby watched with interest to see how her friend would respond. Just then Duncan let out a pained cry and writhed in his bed, apparently fighting an otherworldly opponent. June quickly rose to her feet and went to him. She soothed his brow with a soft hand and sang a little lullaby until he relaxed and resumed his light snoring. Abby watched her face as she comforted the old man and really saw what a sweet and gentle person June was, deep in her heart.
Rose must have noticed the same, because she got up and joined her at Duncan's side. Together, they undressed and slid into bed on both sides of him, snuggling in close to his slim frame.
Alec helped Abby off his lap and made a nest of blankets on the bear rug for them to sleep in. Abby went to the girls and leaned in to kiss each one tenderly on the lips.
"Thank you, I'm blessed to have friends such as you," she whispered softly with a sweet smile, then returned to her man's side and blew out the oil lamp, plunging the cabin to darkness.
Abby was first up in the morning and wearing one of Alec's shirts, stoked up the stove and made coffee. She served Alec and they sat in his armchair with her snuggled on his lap. Together, they watched with interest as Duncan sniffed and snorted while waking up fully. Abby covered her mouth in mirth at his expression when he realized he was surrounded by beautiful naked women. Both girls had their arms and legs thrown over him as they slumbered on, unaware. He looked helplessly at Abby who shrugged and winked playfully at him, not helping a bit with his predicament.
"Just enjoy, my friend," Alec rumbled in a low voice and gave him a nod of encouragement. Duncan sighed and lowered his head back to the pillow, then closed his eyes. Slowly, a happy smile split his rugged old face and he softly kissed each forehead that lay on his shoulders.
"Thank you, Lord." he whispered. Soon, the smell of fresh coffee stirred the two girls and they gently untangled themselves from their fortunate bedmate. Naked, they each bent over him and kissed his cheeks, then dressed and started in on making breakfast. Abby went to help out, and Duncan shyly slid out of bed and quickly got dressed.
He sat next to Alec and peppered him with quiet questions.
"So, you've lived here for months with these young ladies?"
"Yes sir."
"Sleeping in that big bed?"
"Yes sir."
"With all three of them?"
"Yes sir."
"My word, man. You're my absolute hero! I've never in my life heard of such a thing. Doesn't it cause angst among them? It's quite apparent you belong to Miss Abby."
"Well sir, it's a mite complicated but we get by. I've yet to meet Mister Durham so we'll see how that goes soon enough I reckon."
The old man nodded sagely. "I don't pity your position, but I do envy you greatly, I can only imagine..." he said wistfully.
"One never knows, my friend. Strange things happen in life," Alec said encouragingly.
Just then Abby beckoned them to the table to eat, where she reminded them of her mother's maiden name of Winston, in case they needed it to identify themselves to the militia. They all swore they remembered it but she wanted to make absolutely sure. After breakfast, the companions were finally ready to depart and Alex noted that one horse was loaded rather lightly.
"Why don't we spread the loads more evenly," he suggested to Abby.
"You'll see shortly, sweetheart," she said mysteriously.
They all bid goodbye to Duncan and June told him that if possible that she'd come back to visit him sometime, and he stood on his porch waving as they departed. Merely a hundred yards down the trail, Abby stopped them and led the lightly loaded horse off the trail. The girls grinned conspiratorially but said nothing to Alec. He followed Abby to an outcropping of limestone that sheltered a small cave entrance. Abby crawled in and gestured him to follow.
He nearly fainted at the sight before him. The regimental payroll Abby had liberated from the British months ago was revealed to his startled eyes. Thousands of pounds in English gold and silver coin was contained in two, iron bound wooden chests.
"Holy Moses, Abby! Where in the hell did you get all this money?" he managed to croak out. She laughed gaily at his expression.
"Oh, we girls killed a squad of redcoats and stole it from them. A lot of it is also from other troops I killed before I met you."
He shook his head in complete amazement at the sheer audacity of this slip of a girl before him. She produced a small leather bag and counted out two hundred pounds in gold, then stuffed it in her coat pocket. Alec dragged the boxes out of the cave, and together they secured the chests to the pack horse, then met back up with the girls on the main trail.
"I'll be right back," Abby stated and swiftly returned to the cabin. Duncan was in the yard admiring his two new cows when she rode up to him.
"Did you forget something, Mistress?"
"No, Duncan. I rarely do. I just wanted to give you a gift for the use of your cabin." She slid off her mare and handed him the bag of gold. His eyes widened when he opened it up and peeked inside.
"Oh, Mistress Abby, I can't accept this!" he cried in consternation.
"Yes you can, dear Duncan. Please, on behalf of us and my father. I beg you to take it."
Tears ran down his face and he wept openly in front of her.
"Oh, Mistress. You're so kind! I'll never forget how well you and your family has treated me. You truly are an angel!" he sobbed.
She gathered him in a tight hug and kissed both his cheeks. "We'll meet again, my friend. I promise you that. Take care of yourself, dear Duncan."
She quickly mounted her mare and spurred away before he could see her own tears running down her face. The companions finally headed down the trail under Abby's guidance and they spent the remainder of the day feeling their way north. Abby wanted to stay somewhat close to the road system without revealing themselves. From the way Duncan had talked, the redcoat's presence was deteriorating rapidly and she hoped to use the main thoroughfare north if at all possible. Towards evening, she and Alec left the girls at their chosen campsite and crept into view of the main road. Abby consulted a map she'd taken from a long dead redcoat and confirmed their position using prominent hills as landmarks.
Apparently, there was a bridge to the north of them a few miles and she wanted to check it out the following morning. Alec just shook his head in wonder. Even as they searched for her father, she never let up looking for opportunities to cause damage to the enemy.
They made a cold camp because they were so close to the road and Alec insisted they have a guard on duty through the long night. They split the duty into two hour shifts and settled in for the evening.
Thankfully, it passed uneventfully and they continued on their way in the morning, grumbling as they worked the cold night from their stiff muscles.
To be continued in part 9, by Seethegood for Literotica.
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