#coachmen
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#coachmen#RV#recreational vehicle#motorhome#vhs#gif#dalmation#doggo#1984#landscape#travel trailer#fifth wheel#camper#pop up#80s puppers
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SPICELAND - “COACHMEN”
2024
youtube
coachmen attached to the back of my
f-150 i'm ready to drive and my
hand's out the window floating away
i got 2 drinks in my cupholders
dr. pepper and southern comfort
we're mixing business and pleasure today
garfield's attached to the back window
staring at coachmen they're stuck in an argument
which one of you is pulling the weight?
i'm on a mission from god
he talks to me when i turn on my own radio
let's see what song he's going to play
it's just you and me we'll see
reflections in the stream
we'll be complete
it's all part of the scheme
do you see me
and think that's who he
wants to be?
we'll see
let's drive until we're free
we're trucking down the convoy of
lost souls trying to find our new home
due east on 70 floating away
flatlands are paranoia
i need foothills i can hide in
camp out the coachmen saturday
it's just you and me we'll see
reflections in the stream
we'll be complete
it's all part of the scheme
do you see me
and think that's who he
wants to be?
we'll see
let's drive until we're free
#music#me#youtube#morphmagic#spiceland#coachmen#dr pepper#southern comfort#Garfield#lo fi#country#indiana
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Chicken coop camper! lol
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• CONGRATULATIONS • Your photo was chosen for us to repost ------------------------------------------ The best photo from IG @rafipandega • • • • • • Special Region of Yogyakarta Ikatan Bathin . #humaninterest #streetphotography #humaninterestindonesia #photography #humaninterestphotography #indonesia #insanindonesia #streetphotographyindonesia #indonesia_photography #portraitphotography #urban #racehorse #horse #kuda #javanese #culture #traditional #kusir #coachmen #indonesianculture #monochrome #social #humanity #blackandwhite #people #sonyalpha #sonyalpha_id ------------------------------------------ Jangan lupa follow dan tag instagram @_humaninterest di foto yang kamu upload Gunakan hastag #_humaninterest Bila ada kritik atau saran silahkan tulis di kolom komentar atau DM ------------------------------------------ https://www.instagram.com/p/Cldgph8yNJ1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Top 10 Tow Caravan Models: A Guide to the Best Travel Trailers on the Market
Top 10 Tow Caravan Models: A Guide to the Best Travel Trailers on the Market
Tow caravans, also known as travel trailers, are a popular choice for those who want to travel and explore the world with their own mobile home. There are many different tow caravan models available on the market, each with its own unique set of features and amenities.
1- Airstream International: Airstream International is a luxury tow caravan that is known for its sleek and aerodynamic design.…
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#A#Airstream International#bathroom#built-in generator#Coachmen Apex#comfortable interior#Cruiser RV Shadow Cruiser#Dutchmen Aerolite#easy to tow#floor plans#Forest River Rockwood#full kitchen#Grand Design Imagine#Heartland North Trail#high-quality materials#Jayco Jay Flight#Keystone Passport#large living area#lightweight tow caravan#luxury tow caravan#maneuver#queen-sized bed#sleek and aerodynamic design#sleeping area#solar panel#tow caravan#travel trailer#versatile tow caravan#Winnebago Minnie
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Daddy Takes Care
prompt: ( requested ) in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.
pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader
no specified House or race
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 6.4k+
warnings: cursing, daughter named Visenya, angst 'cause pregnancy isn't all sunshine and glow and rainbows, hurt and comfort 'cause happy (but abrupt) ending, author has never been pregnant so please forgive inaccuracies, not edited.
"My Prince! My Prince! Prince Daemon!"
Daemon purposefully ignored the errand-boy, hoisting his daughter higher on his hip. "Easy, little dragon," he spoke in High Valyrian, "Caraxes is not known for his patience."
Visenya giggled, "Caraxes likes me, Daddy."
The dragon rumbled as if in agreement, blinking his eye as Visenya laid her head on his snout; half-way out of Daemon's arms, but still maintaining a vice grip. "My Prince, please," the servant pleaded, "i-it is your wife."
Daemon whipped around, Visenya being rightened in his arms when her father glared at the young man who panted from his sprinting. "What?" Daemon demanded.
"Sh-She is with the Maesters now, my Prince, and your brother, His Grace, and the Queen Alicent, too, The baby started - "
But the lad gasped when Caraxes gave a harrowing growl as Daemon charged forward; Visenya in his arms as his dragon's breath seemingly propelled his stride forward. Visenya whimpered when Caraxes stalked out of the Dragon Pit with Daemon, only stopping when he could go no further; but he thundered his displeasure and suspicion in a grumble that made the little girl wince into Daemon's chest. "It's okay, love," Daemon told her gently in their Mothers Tongue, approaching the Royal wheelhouse they used when traveling with Visenya. He spoke softly, "We're going to see Mummy, Caraxes is just worried."
"What's wrong with Mummy?" Visenya asked in the Common Speech when they boarded.
"Go! Do not stop until we get to the Keep!" Daemon barked at the coachmen before settling his daughter down. He saw the big tears swelling in his daughter's eyes and sighed, telling her softly, "I am sorry, my sweet dragon. Daddy doesn't know what's wrong with Mummy, that scares Daddy sometimes, and when Daddy's scared, he gets a little mean."
"That's okay, Daddy," she nodded at him, looking sheepish. "I get scared, too."
"It's okay to be afraid, fear is natural," Daemon told her softly, "but it's important we do not let it define us."
Her little legs swung, "Like Lord Larys."
Daemon snickered, "Oh, you naughty girl, I told you not to repeat that."
She grinned, looking far too innocent to be Daemon's spawn. "Mummy says we should be nice to Lord Larys."
"She does?"
"Mhm," Visenya nodded, "she said 'cause he knows too much."
His head cocked, "Little Dragon, has Lord Larys ever approached Mummy? Spoken to her?"
"He tries," Visenya nodded, "but Mummy walks away, she doesn't like him." The little girl lowered her voice, telling Daemon a secret, "Mummy said his breath smells like poo."
Daemon smirked, whispering back, "I know."
When they arrived at the Red Keep, the wheelhouse was barely slowed before Daemon was scooping Visenya into his arms and getting ready to disembark. When they stopped, he didn't wait for anyone to open his doors, announce his name; he just surged out, charging for where he knew the Maester's chambers were.
However, Otto Hightower was waiting for him in the foyer, greeting, "Prince Daemon, Princess Visenya."
"Hi," Visenya waved, holding onto her father's neck shyly.
"Where is she? Where's my wife?" Daemon demanded.
"Resting in your chambers, my Prince," Otto answered, not being offended when Daemon turned heel to change direction and left him in the dust.
Nobody intercepted Daemon, but it wasn't like any tried. He didn't look at anyone, they never met his eyes; but most took note of the way he all but galloped to get to his chambers. When the shoulder that wasn't holding his daughter barged through the door, he didn't slow, just demanded, "What is this? What has happened?"
"Daemon," Viserys sighed in reprimand.
"What is the matter?" He charged forward to reach the bed. "Give Daddy a second with Mummy," he told his daughter in Valyrian as he set the little girl down and took the spot beside you instantly. You had a knowing smirk on your lips, hand taken by both of his, not even blinking when he barked, "Well? What has happened!?"
"When you take a breath, we will tell you," You told him softly, squeezing his hand and smiling with closed lips. "The Maester's have only just left, you did not miss much."
He shook his head, "I should've been here none the less."
"And deprive our little dragon rider the opportunity to bond with her favorite mate?" You teased, looking to Visenya and opening your arm (after pulling yours from Daemon's clutches), "C'mere, little one. Come to Mummy."
She was careful and slow in her movements, curling up beside you; shimmying under the covers to cuddle into your side. She pet your belly, "Does it hurt?"
"No, not right now," you answered honestly, never wanting to lie to her. It would do no good in the long run, being truthful and honest were traits you can teach (not always) and you and Daemon took it very seriously.
This was a cruel world, why sugarcoat it?
So your daughter would depend on some man - some man like Larys Strong?
Nope. Not on your watches. She'd be the belle of the ball with the meanest right hook in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Daemon," Viserys spoke with a calm tone, earning the attention of the room, "you must know, these sort of things can happen at anytime."
"Is it The Curse? I-Is it The Curse? Does it prevail?" He asked in desperation, looking distraught.
"No," you assured, taking your only free hand to lay one of his on your swollen belly.
"No...? No?" He repeated, then scoffed, "So, why is it I was - "
"False labor," Alicent cut him off, making his jaw steel as he glared at her. "It can occur, the mind tricks the body into thinking and reacting that it's time to deliver the babe."
"But it's too soon," he pointed out, "she's still, what? Two, maybe three months left?"
"It can happen," Alicent nodded.
He frowned, glancing at his brother, then to you. "I was with the Queen when I got this terrible pain," you explained to Daemon. "There was fluid and some blood under my skirt, we thought it couldn't be right, so, she brought me to the Maesters and sent for you."
Daemon looked vaguely surprised, leaning down to press his lips to your belly. With a sigh, his forehead rested on your bump, lifting to peck another kiss, then righten his spine, asking, "And now?"
"All was clear, I was brought back here, and your brother did not wish to leave me alone - but nothing else was able to be said before you arrived," you chuckled, caressing his cheek.
"Thank you," he told Viserys, sniffling as his eyes lifted to Alicent, "both of you, truly, thank you."
"We are family," Viserys assured, "we would not want to be elsewhere."
"There's a whole Realm to - "
"Sometimes, politics can wait and family cannot," the King spoke wisely. "We are simply relieved the Lady is feeling better and all is well. The babe will stay in her womb until the end, should she remain in bed."
"Oh, Gods, Viserys," you groaned, "we agreed not to tell him that!"
"You agreed, I did not," he shot back at you.
"What do you mean, brother?"
The King answered, "She is to remain in bed until the end of her term - with natural limitations."
"Which means?"
"She may move around the room, but not much farther; she may use the privy, keep her blood circulating, but she is to remain down for most of the time as it will help keep the babe in place."
He nodded rapidly, "Of course."
"We'll let you rest," Alicent told you both softly. "I'm sure you want time with your family."
"Actually," you sighed, "might I ask for one more favor?"
"Anything, name it," Viserys agreed.
"Take Visenya for an hour? Daemon and I need to speak privately."
"Of course," Alicent nodded, stepping up to the bed. She waited as you and Daemon promised Visenya you'd be with her soon, that you needed an adult conversation, and after giving you both a kiss on the cheek, she marched off the bed to take Alicent's hand. Viserys hobbled out after them, and when the doors shut, Daemon deflated.
"Oh, Seven fucking Hells," he muttered in a muffle against your belly. He let your hands rake into his long strands of hair, pulling any knots, just soothing him with the scrape of your nails. "I was so worried," he admitted quietly, "I just - I did not think. I have feared this possibility so much, I think I tricked myself into thinking it was reality."
"What's that, my love?"
"The Curse... The Targaryen Curse."
"Daemon - "
"We were so lucky with Visenya," his tearful eyes lifted to meet yours, "and half of the pregnancy was wasted on our worry that something would go wrong. I might've created this reality."
"You did nothing," you promised. "Neither of us caused this, it's just what happens."
"But you've suffered for months," he whispered, eyes reddening by the second. "You had endless nausea, you threw up daily, my love, you developed night terrors, and you cannot say it was anything but ideal."
"Perhaps not ideal, but so perfectly us," you answered, watching him stand with a frown. "Daemon - where are you - "
"I only mean to change," he promised, already shedding his clothing and boots and weapons belt. When he joined you in bed again, he laid off your legs but beside them, head on your belly to hold and letting your hands rake through his platinum white locks again. It was quiet for minutes longer, just enjoying the other, but he whispered, "I should've been here."
"We did not know."
"Still," he frowned, kissing your bump tenderly, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't here, but do not take it out on Mummy. She's so brave," another kiss, "so very brave to take the time and give you the most perfect place to live for now. We can't take it out on her. Not Mummy, anyone else, but not Mummy."
You felt yourself dozing off, humming in contentment when Daemon took note and started a conversation with the babe - just simply detailing his day. He said there was soon to be another clutch of dragon eggs and their sister would choose the most perfect egg for them; being all Visenya's spoken of for weeks. He told the babe how excited they all were to meet them, but when he noticed you were asleep, he hated himself for getting out of bed.
It was only to pull a dressing robe on and locate his daughter; being easy as she was in Alicent's arms two halls over - both admiring the tapestries. "Daddy said this was a big fight," Visenya was heard, pointing at the drape.
"He's right," Alicent nodded, "this depicts Aegon's Conquest."
"Big dragons," she sighed dreamily, looking at the stitching. "That's Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Cousin Laena rides Vhagar now."
"Very good, sweetheart," Alicent praised.
"My Queen," Daemon called, approaching almost stiffly.
"Daddy!"
"C'mere," he grunted, accepting his daughter as she lunged for his embrace. "Thank you," he told Alicent.
"Is everything all right?"
"She's resting," Daemon nodded, trying to hide his fear from his voice but Alicent saw it in his eyes.
"The Maester's know how to help, my Prince," she assured softly. "She might fight against the limitations, but it's for everyone's health. She'll be okay, Daemon," her hand reached out to gently touch his forearm, "her body just needs time to adjust."
With her words thrumming in his mind, Daemon spent the next several weeks at your bedside. He was everything and more: he got you water, tea, anything to eat; always making sure you ate even a little SOMETHING three times a day. He made sure you took your medicine, wiped your flushed skin with cold cloths, braided your hair to keep it off your flesh. He read to you, rubbed your ankles and feet to help any circulation of clots, held your trembling form when you threw up. Daemon remained strong where you felt weak, doing whatever he could to assure you that your predicament wasn't a burden to him.
"You're not listening!"
"All I do is listen!"
"Daemon!" You snapped, "For weeks now, you've been at my every beck and call - catering to my whims. You are not canceling flying with Visenya, she'll be crushed."
"But you're closer to your birthing," He pointed out sharply.
"And I have not moved from this bed in days," you snapped back. "I will endure another day of this if it means you go take Caraxes out, I hear he's been a right menace."
Daemon shook his head, but something in his posture fell from defense. It made you sit up a little and beckon to him, his hand reaching for yours as he dropped to the place beside you; leaning against your mountain of pillows. "I do not know how to do this," he whispered, leaning his head to the crook of your neck in a vulnerable show of emotion. "And I know we are learning together, but I feel pulled apart - that I will disappoint one of you while catering to the other."
"My sweet husband," you whispered against the crown of his head. "You worry for nought."
"I worry for all," he whispered. "Visenya needs me, Viserys needs me, Caraxes needs me, the bloody White Cloaks need me, you need me - "
"Do not stress yourself further about this," you insisted. "Viserys has other advisors. Visenya has her aunts, uncles, cousins, anyone she could play with. Caraxes does need you, yes," you chuckled, "but he's also violently independent so I would not worry about him. And I am under the care of the Maesters, so I'd argue only the White Cloaks need you - you are their Lord Commander, after all."
"No," he refused, "I am a husband and father first, brother second, Prince of the City third, and Lord Commander fourth. I will be where I am needed, I just do not have enough hours in the day to do it all."
"You do not need to do it all," you whispered.
"You all need me."
"Visenya and I, yes," you agreed, "your job is important, too... Fuck the rest. 'S just noise."
He chuckled, you felt the pull of his lips on your neck. He hummed into your flesh, licking gently before pulling back to mutter, "I wish you could come with us."
"I do, too," you smiled softly. "But I'll be right here for you both to come back to - tell me all about it."
Daemon chuckled, "Surely."
Speak of the Devil, and He will appear.
"MUMMY!"
"Vizzy!" You half-scolded, laughing when the door burst open to reveal your daughter in her dragon-riding gear. Not a moment later, your usual handmaid, Carlee, appeared out of breath, sighing with relief when she located Visenya. "I'm so sorry, Carlee, she's just like her father and avoids all authority," you laughed when the little girl climbed onto her father's lap.
"No, I apologize, Lady," Carlee panted, "I-I tried - but she - she's very fast."
"I've got her," Daemon dismissed stiffly, your glare doing nothing to him.
"Thank you, Carlee, we've got it from here," you amended to the kind, portly woman with greying red hair. She bowed out as you reached over to tickle Visenya, "And you, my little monster! Didn't I tell you to stop giving the nice ladies a hard time. Hmm? Yes?"
She laughed happily, squirming in Daemon's arms. He 'saved' her by snuggling his nose in her neck; the squealing continuing as she shouted, "He's tickling me, Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Help me, Mummy!"
"Mummy can't help you," Daemon playfully growl, gnawing into her neck as she flailed in his grip.
"Daddy! Stop it!"
He sighed dramatically, "Oh, I suppose I could... If a certain princess promises to behave from now on."
"Of course, Daddy, it's riding day!" She exclaimed, settling more in his lap now that he stopped tickling her. Because it wasn't often that Daemon took her riding, she was usually always on her best behavior to ensure her favorite day actually occurred - but that didn't mean it was an exact science.
"Visenya, be good for Daddy, yes?" You directed, puckering your lips for her. She pecked them quickly, promising to be good, and then rushing away when Daemon told her to go get her gloves and boots. When alone again, he looked at you almost sadly.
"One day, we'll fly as a family," he promised, forehead to your own. "Do you need anything, love?"
"I'm good, thank you, though," you whispered. Then, your hands caressed your belly, sighing, "Not long now, huh?"
"It's both the longest and shortest time of my life," he laughed lightly. "But soon, we'll pray for the quiet of your womb again."
You laughed, bringing him in for a kiss. He reciprocated before you pulled back, insisting, "Go, before she burns the Keep down. You know Caraxes would do it, too, that beastie would do anything she says."
"So would we," he winced.
"We might wanna work on that..."
"In time," he teased, kissing you again. "Stay put."
"Yes, sir." He gave you a look, making you amend, "Yes, Daddy."
He chuckled, kissed you a final time, and then rose. Just as he was exiting the door, you heard him yelp your daughters name before a small bang - making you think Visenya had run full sprint at him and knocked him back a step or two.
Another few days dragged by. You were agitated, you were stir crazy, you were on the shortest fuse known to man. Visenya liked reading to you, working on her writing skills with you in bed; she even got to practice her hair braiding skills. When you snapped at servants and maids, Visenya was always chiding, "Mummy, that's mean."
She kept you level-headed.
Daemon was a wreck, however.
He was only one person and the fact that he needed to be several was far too stressful than he was ever willing to admit. "Daemon, my love," you called sternly, "stop your pacing and come here. Lay with me, please."
"I do not get that luxury - "
"It is not a luxury to nurture your seed in my body," you deflected. "Now, come here. Now."
Daemon glared, "Do not think you command me, woman."
"The vows we took certainly think I do. Armor off, boots off, hair down, get the fuck over here - now, Daemon."
He sighed and grumbled, grunting as he did what you told but made it known he wasn't happy about it. When he was dressed in nothing but linen trousers, he laid beside you. "Now what?" He snapped.
"Now hold your wife and child and just fucking breathe," you shot back, readjusting so you cuddled into him. "You reek tonight."
"Your list of demands did not include bathing, excuse me, Princess," he sneered in a condescending tone.
"Daemon, I just want you to take a pause," you bit. "You've been runnin' 'round with your head chopped off since finding out about this... This complication."
"I have much to do."
"I know, and that is why it's important to just slow down and simply breathe. Please, just breathe with me, Daemon, I need us both to be as okay as we can be for when this babe finally comes."
"There's no time - "
"We make our time,' you insisted. "Please, just pause."
He did, Daemon actually paused to just take a deep breath. After one, he took another... Then another, and another until he was doing it with ease and confidence. "I'm sorry," he whispered against your forehead, bringing you in closer. "I do not mean to take it out on you, pet, I am just... Well, you know."
"I know you're worried," you sighed. "Which is why we need this. Tell me of your day, today?"
Daemon didn't want to at first, but then relented and started on a snowball tangent that explained his foul mood. You listened, ear pressed to his pectoral; hands tracing absent patterns on the contours of his abdomen. Daemon usually tried his best to restrain himself with you, but you actively encouraged him and the more he talked, the more words that spewed from his mouth in a messy jumble. One arm remained wrapped around you, keeping you close, and his free one moved about in exaggeration.
"And to top the day off, you know what the bloody Septa told me? The one Alicent insisted was worth utilizing?"
"Septa Amelia?"
"Whatever," he huffed.
"What'd she say to you, my Prince?"
He sighed at the endearing tone you used for his title, knowing it wasn't a reference to his real station but instead, a pet name you had for him. Daemon sighed, "That Visenya might need shipped off to Dorne to attend that grueling, military school."
"She's only just turned five - "
"I am aware," Daemon cut you off. "I cursed at her before taking Visenya."
"Good, then I shall know who to yell at, too," your voice hardened. "Why do they complain about her so? 'S all I bloody hear, how our daughter's wild and untamed - saying we are unfit parents by the looks of her."
"She's fire in her blood because she is the Dragon's Seed, just as this one is, too," His hand laid over your belly. "And yet, I cannot understand why others voice their opinions on our family, which they are not entitled to an opinion on. Visenya grows within the Red Keep, she is not some wild animal, but perhaps, she lacks stimuli."
"How could we remedy that?"
"A tutor... Or a few, perhaps. From across the Narrow Sea," he told you, already sounding like he wasn't as angry as before. "Find us proper tutors who will take her on as a student to guide her where we cannot - and where others give up. What kind of a man would I be to ignore what someone blatantly needs that I can easily provide?"
You offered a small smirk, taking a fond note, "This isn't just 'someone', Daemon, you speak of our daughter. You're so good at this, you know... Taking care of us. Daddy takes care."
He tightened his hold, "I always will, my sweet."
It was quiet again, your stomach churning with discomfort; questioning, "Though I am wondering what she did today to prompt such a comment?"
He scoffed, "So, she set fire to some curtains, who bloody cares - "
You gasped shrilly as you sat bolt upright, "Visenya did what!?"
"No, hey, no," he reached for you, "no stress, no - "
But you were hobbling out of the bed before he could stop you, grumbling the entire time; yet the moment your feet hit the floor, you paused to heave for breath, stood, and felt the trickle of fluids from between your legs. "What?" You gasped, realizing what just happened, begging, "What? No, no, no, no, not now, little one, please, stay in there!"
Daemon vaulted himself over the bed and was at your side in an instant, guiding you to sit once more and promising, "I will get the Maesters. Just ease yourself, no stress, no worries, I'll get help - I'll get the Maester's." He meant to move away.
"No," you insisted, reaching for his tunic's collar to grip, yank, and hold him close, "I need you with me. We all do, please, do not leave me to do this life alone. D-Daemon, please, I'm so scared, do not leave me, I can't do this without you."
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, taking your hand to hold, "but I need to get you help. Please, my love, you need the help."
You whimpered and got back on the bed by yourself as Daemon raced for the chamber door. He only took half a step, then shouted, "YOU! HEY, YOU! GET THE BLOODY MAESTERS! NOW! YOUR PRINCE DEMANDS IT!"
Ignoring whatever else he shouted, you got comfortable as the cramps began to twist in your lower gut - shooting pains down your legs, up your back, even tingling into your fingers. Sweat took hold of you like a bad fever, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew something couldn't be completely right. This sensation was strange, it wasn't at all a feeling you had when pregnant with Visenya.
Hours drug by as if sap dripping from a tree.
Your pain increased; sweating, grunting, moaning, groaning with displeasure. Daemon was stoic and quiet, just watching you writhe in pain as his heart cemented in his chest to sink into his feet and anchor him there. Visenya wasn't anything like this; he'd been present for that birth, too, and remember thinking how easy it appeared since the baby practically fell out of you.
This was much different.
"My Prince," the Maester approached him with a deep frown, "a word?"
"What?" He snapped, watching the Maester step to the side. Daemon sighed and followed, glaring, arms crossing as he demanded, "What is it?"
"My Prince, the babe will not come. I do not wish to beat around this bush, so I will tell you plainly. Sometimes, when the fetus is in a compromising position, a decision must be made: either the babe is cut from the womb and it survives or they both die or only the babe dies - there was a way to remove the baby surgically if that's the case. But you need to choose."
"Why do I have to choose? It's her decision - her body, her life, her choice."
"She is delirious with pain," the Maester deflected, "and if the babe is a boy, wouldn't you rather know and have him?"
"And lose my wife?" Daemon growled. "I think the fuck not. You will not put this decision on me, it is for her to decide."
He pushed past everyone to take the spot beside you and instantly pick up your hand. "Daemon," you sobbed, "for fuck's sake, please, please, just let this be over. Get the babe out."
"You're almost there, sweetheart."
But one of the Septas assisting the Maesters squeaked in mild alarm, and when Daemon looked, there was a significant amount of blood blooming under you. "She's bleeding, could be a hemorrhage," the Maester rushed, lifting your thin gown to judge the birthing canal.
"What's wrong?" You asked in a half-slur.
"Nothing, you're okay," Daemon assured softly, kissing your hand.
Your screams through labor echoed through empty stone halls. Your pain was tangible, your fear paramount. "What's wrong!?" You begged the room, "Why aren't they coming? Why won't our baby come?"
"We're trying, Princess," A Septa spoke softly.
You only cried until your exhaustion outweighed your consciousness; your mind going blank, eyes rolling back, and slipping into the weighted darkness from the blood loss. Daemon frantically shook your shoulder, begging, "My love, please! Wake up! Wake up now! What's going on!?"
"There's too much blood!"
"I told you to choose!" The Maester snapped at Daemon. "Now they will both lose their lives!"
Daemon felt his chest hallow - figuring the words were true enough. He couldn't decide, he refused to, and now you suffered and the possibility of losing your child was larger than before. "My Prince," a Septa approached, "you need to wait outside."
"No - "
"They need to operate, you cannot linger here," she insisted. "You will be called for."
He steeled his jaw, pointing a warning finger at the Maester, "Don't make the cut else your loved ones will only see you on a spike around the Red Keep."
Prince Daemon waited outside for another few hours. He paced, he refused food and drink, he simply wanted to be in there with you but had to begrudgingly put faith into the medical team working on you. He smirked when he saw his daughter, Visenya, round the distant corner and sprint up to him - Carlee chasing her.
"Are you skipping lessons, again, Little Dragon?" Daemon grunted as he caught his daughter - swinging her onto his hip by using the momentum from catching her.
"Where's Mummy and the baby?" She demanded.
Daemon sighed, "The baby doesn't want to come out, yet, love, so we can't see them yet."
"But it's been a day, Daddy!" She whined.
"I know, pet," he sighed with a frown, glancing at the closed door. "It's all right," he told the maid, "she can remain here with us."
"My Prince, she'd miss - "
"Lessons? You dare try to say lessons are more important?" He snapped.
"Daemon," Viserys frowned from his wheelchair. "Your anger is misplaced."
He hummed, readjusting his daughter on his hip as Alicent dismissed Carlee; letting Daemon begin to pace again. When the door opened, he whipped around, but only an in-training Maester slipped out of the room - giving no time to peer inside. "Well?" Daemon demanded.
"We are still working, My Prince, but I am to fetch more material," he answered, nodding once, then dashing away. It did nothing to settle his nerves, in fact, they tripled when the lad returned with a procession of aids - all carrying different material. They reentered the room, and Daemon felt his heart snap.
"Stay with Uncle, Little Dragon," Daemon told his daughter, approaching Viserys, offering him the child to which he accepted. "Stay here, do not move, Daddy has to check on Mummy. Yes?"
"Is she sick?" Visenya frowned.
"I'll check, my love."
"I can go, too, Daddy."
Daemon sighed through his nose, his daughter making him melt into a pile of nothingness - but reminded himself to stay firm. "No, love, you just stay here and Daddy will check," he assured softly as Viserys lifted his hands to keep hold of the young girl and ensuring she did not follow Daemon when he nodded, turned, and shoved through the door into the birthing chamber.
"My Prince!"
But Daemon couldn't move.
There was blood everywhere. Soiled linens, a drenched nightgown, scattered puddles of splattered life source across the floor. You looked delirious, confused; not fully present in your mind, and when he noted the Milk of the Poppy, he understood your pain was trying to be managed. Blood painted up and down your thighs; blood pooling under your cunt, but there was a baby's head visible.
Startled, he rushed for your side and knelt to take your hand. "My love," he breathed, "can you hear me? Are you with me? Please. Please, sweet wife, open your eyes and look at me."
When you did, he could tell you were unfocused and unsure who he was before realization dawned over your facial expression. "Daemon," you whispered, squeezing his hand slightly.
"I'm here, love," he promised. "Right here - I'm with you."
"The baby?"
"Almost," he promised, watching your eyes flutter.
"She needs to push, my Prince," the birthing maester instructed. "C'mon, c'mon, now's the time - push! Push, Princess, push!"
"C'mon, love!" Daemon encouraged, watching sweat glisten over every exposed surface of skin; jaw clenching, bearing down and pushing with might.
The screams echoed through the Keep, only drowned out when a storm rolled in that evening. The thunder masked the profanities shouted, lightning accompanied by each scream of pain as birth split you in half. Daemon did not leave your side, encouraging you through the entire ordeal, his trousers saturating with your blood as more dripped to the floor as you pushed, pushed, pushed, and pushed with all the strength you had.
"You gotta keep goin', love," Daemon would tell you, "gotta keep fightin' for this - don't stop now. I need you with us, our children will need us, this is not something I can do alone. Please," he begged, "do not make me say goodbye. Not until we're fat and old, remember? Huh? My precious love, you're almost done, but you have to keep fighting. It'll be worth it, soon. Just keep going!"
By the following morning, a babe was being pulled from your cunt with a gushing wave of fluid and blood - reminding the Maester very briefly of cattle birth. However, while relief colored your system, the medical attendants felt panic flood theirs - muttering, hushing, consulting the baby to the side as the Maester saw you through the afterbirth. "W-Wait," you slurred, "wh-where are they? Where? Daemon, wh-what is it? Girl or boy?"
He frowned, Septas, Silent Sisters, and other maids all huddled together without your child in sight. "I-I do not know, yet, sweetheart, but remain calm. The worst is over..." But when he looked down at you, he noticed how still you laid and felt his panic skyrocket. He begged your name several times, demanding you wake up, but you remained silent and still - skin even turning clammy as sweat dried. Daemon was actually pulled out of the way, two Maesters attending to your side, and he felt impossibly in the middle.
To his left, his child. To his right, his wife. Both of whom appear in distress, both of whom hold his worry. "She's clots again," he heard from the Maesters. "Not breathing," he heard from the Septas.
So, this is what Hell was like...
A shrill cry pierced the air, adrenaline draining from Daemon's blood as he realized this only meant the babe was okay. When he was approached with the bundle, he worried, "She should be the first to hold them."
"It's all right, my Prince," the Septa spoke softly, "you may hold her now, and later, you can lay her on your wife's chest."
Daemon nodded, taking the baby. He blinked, "Did you say, 'she'?"
"A girl, my Prince, healthy, strong, full-term."
"What's wrong with her?" He demanded. "Why does my wife not wake?"
"The blood loss," a Maester muttered, "'s gotta be the blood loss."
He couldn't move or breathe. His daughter screamed, still, but he was terrified by the sight of the Maesters flocking over your still-body. Daemon protested, but once more, he was asked to leave the chamber and had to be escorted - but he wanted to remain. He wanted to linger, to watch you, to ensure you were taken care of... Yet the bundle in his arms wriggled and sobbed, reminding him that he had a responsibility to his daughter that needed his attention.
"Daemon," Alicent perked up when the door opened, eyes widening at the sight of the Targaryen swaddle.
"Brother?" Viserys worried, eyes glistening as he assumed the worst.
"She's... She's not waking up," He spoke without emotion, "the Maesters are still working."
Viserys nodded, holding a sleeping Visenya on his lap still. "You need rest," he recommended.
"No, I think I will stay," Daemon refused.
"You can't function this way," Alicent tacked on. "The Maesters will still be at work, and even after, she will not be awake for hours. Milk of the Poppy is potent, and with her exhaustion, it's sure to be an intense combination."
He nodded slowly, "I want to be here."
So, Daemon remained.
He let Visenya sit with him on the stone bench outside the birthing chamber; his brother remaining to offer moral support alongside his wife until royal obligation can calling. He remained stoic, holding his daughter and only passing her off to the wet nurse when a feeding or cleaning needed attended to. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the doors opened, Daemon shot to his feet; leaving his infant daughter in Visenya's lap.
"She's asking for you," the Maester told Daemon, smirking slightly when the Prince charged for the room. He looked around at the disarray and how dwarfed you appeared in the bed; sheets still saturated with blood.
Never before had he felt such relief, dropping to his knees as if in prayer at your bedside; tearfully picking up your hand to kiss the back of it. "You're alive," he whispered in shock, "oh, bless the Seven, you're alive - you're still here with me. With us."
You could only manage a tired, half-smile, "Can't be rid of me that easy."
He snorted his amusement, "Thought I lost you for a moment there..."
"Sorry to scare you," you whispered, "but 's not easy pushing a baby from your cunt, huh?"
"No, definitely not. Especially a Targaryen, born of Fire and Blood," he looked close to tears, "they are known for their harsh entrance into this world."
"I'd endure all of it for our children," you mumbled, taking a long breath. "I'm tired, Daemon."
He looked to a lingering Maester, the one in training, asking, "Can she move back to our chambers?"
"She might not want to walk, yet," the lad advised, "but yes. Perhaps a familiar environment will help the healing process."
Daemon had a Maester carrying his infant daughter and escort Visenya to your living quarters while he brought you. He laid you in bed, ensuring your comfort before taking his daughter back in his arms, dismissing the staff, and telling Visenya to change into her loungewear. They were going to take a nap with Mummy...
"Daemon?" You mumbled.
"I'm here, love," he rushed to your side, "you all right? What do you need?"
"It's hurting," you frowned.
Daemon laid your daughter beside you in bed, furthest into the mattress, so he could prepare your next dose of Milk of the Poppy. Visenya, changed for the lazy day, jumped into bed with you, smiling at her new sister as Daemon changed himself. When he joined you in bed, he kept the baby between the two of you as Visenya deflated on Daemon's chest. She all but instantly fell asleep, both parents allowing for several long minutes to pass; ensuring their slumbering state.
"Did you pick a name?" You asked, tracing your fingertip along your baby's belly in soft, ticklish motions.
"Not yet," he answered. "Thought that should be a decision we agree on."
"I have no preference," you told him softly, "I'm just relieved she's here."
"You and me both," he whispered, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "You did such a good job, sweetheart, to endure this Targaryen Curse for our family - such a good job."
You smiled at him, catching his lips in a full kiss as the poppy released into your bloodstream. "I love you," you promised him.
"I love you," he echoed; the serenity surrounding you both in a warm embrace. Unable to help himself, Daemon teased, "So, when do you want our third child?"
You both had to suppress your humor to protect your sleeping daughters from being rudely woken.
requesting rules and masterlist
HOTD masterlist
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x f!reader#daemon targaryen angst#daemon x reader#daemon#prince daemon targaryen#prince daemon x reader#prince daemon#hotd#house of the dragon daemon#house of the dragon#house of the dragon hbo#hbo house of the dragon#hbo hotd#hotd hbo#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfiction#the rogue prince
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who knew that the horrified POV of the mice who got turned into coachmen from cinderella would be the most creative retelling of that fairy tale I’ve ever heard. like you’re right. it IS fucked up that those mice had to be people for a couple hours
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your stories about a prince getting bred by a servant are great, but what about the reverse? a prince who fucks a stable boy late at night and the poor boy is too starstruck by being chosen to realize what a risk he’s taking?
Excellent idea. Here you go!
The sun had long since faded from the barn windows when the Prince made his way into the royal stables. The animals were settled for the night, and the grooms had long since gone to bed. There was only one person he wanted around, and he knew that he often worked late.
He found the stable boy mucking out one of the larger stalls, his back bent as he tossed hay into the wheelbarrow. He was younger than the grooms and coachmen, though nearly at his twentieth year, and exuded a youthful virility that the Prince admired. His skin glistened in the low light of the lanterns, his shirt discarded and a rag hanging off his neck to soak up the sweat.
The Prince watched for a moment, appreciating the flex of his muscles and the strong curve of his back and thighs before finally stepping forward.
He was not subtle, his booted footsteps loud and purposeful as they crossed the floorboards. The boy straightened and turned, a look of surprise coming over his face.
"Your Highness!" he exclaimed. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes," the Prince replied, stepping into the stall. "There is. Close the gate, if you would."
He watched the boy swallow, a look of uncertainty crossing his face as he reached to close the gate behind the Prince.
The Prince's eyes swept over his lean body. The stable boy was not as muscular as the men the Prince was usually attracted to, but he was not displeasing to the eye. He was shorter than the Prince, and slimmer, and when the Prince reached out to brush his fingers over his chest, he was soft.
"I was wondering," the Prince said, stepping forward until the stable boy found his back pressed against the wall, "if I could get your help."
The young man licked his lips. "I would be glad to be of service, Your Highness."
"Would you now?" The Prince smiled. He moved closer, and the stable boy shivered, his breath quickening as the Prince slid his fingers under the young man's chin and tilted his face up.
The stable boy's lips parted, his pupils dilated, and he did not resist when the Prince kissed him. His lips were soft and warm, his tongue slick, and the Prince used his body to trap the servant against the wall and grind against him.
"Oh," the young man gasped, his voice muffled by the kiss.
The Prince pulled away, his playful smile turning hungry.
"On your knees," he ordered.
The stable boy obeyed, sinking to the hay-strewn ground, his hands hesitantly reaching for the front of the Prince's breeches.
At least he was intelligent enough to understand what he was meant to do.
The Prince allowed him to undo the laces, groaning softly as his cock was freed. The young man looked up, his mouth open and ready for him, and the Prince guided his shaft between those tempting lips.
The Prince sighed in pleasure as the servant's mouth closed around his cock. Tangling his fingers in the young man's hair, the Prince held him still and began to rock his hips.
The boy groaned, the sound stifled, and his fingers clenched in the Prince's breeches. Something about how those dirty fingers clutched fabric worth more than a year of his wages amused him.
It wasn't the best blowjob the Prince had ever had, but it was good enough, and the young man's mouth was acceptably soft and wet. When the Prince came, he did so with a groan as he buried himself deep.
The boy coughed and sputtered when the Prince finally pulled away, his eyes wide, and the Prince leaned down to wipe a stray drop of come from his chin.
"Very good," he praised.
The boy blushed.
"You are dismissed for the night," the Prince continued, his voice soft yet dismissive. "Go on."
"Thank you, Your Highness," the boy stammered, rising to his feet. "Thank you."
The Prince left the barn without looking back, his mind already occupied with thoughts of the next time he would visit.
And he would, again and again.
He had a feeling the stable boy would not refuse him, and he was right.
The young man never refused him, even when the Prince was rough and demanding. He never resisted, not even when the Prince pressed him face-first into the wall and took him with barely any preparation. He always let the Prince use him, his body yielding, his moans soft.
The Prince enjoyed it. He liked the way the stable boy submitted to him, the way he trembled as the Prince entered him. He liked the way the young man cried out when he was filled, his body hot and slick and tight.
And he really liked the way the young man gasped when the Prince spilled inside him, his cock throbbing as he pumped his noble seed into that willing body.
Of course, such actions were not without consequences. Slowly, over the months, the Prince noticed something different about the stable boy.
His stomach had grown just a little, his belly curving beneath his tunic. It was barely noticeable, and the Prince had thought at first that it was merely the young man gaining weight. But the shape of the curve was different.
And when the boy removed his shirt, it was obvious.
He was growing a bump, the small swell of his stomach proof of the child he was carrying.
Yet the fool seemed to have no idea.
The Prince had no intention of enlightening him, either. He was enjoying himself too much. Besides, there was no guarantee that the child was his. Peasants did like to fuck indiscriminately, didn't they?
But he also knew the dangers of continuing such dalliances.
So the Prince used the stable boy one last time, his hands caressing the bump in a way his oblivious lover didn't seem to understand. It'd be a shame to move on, but there would always be other servants to toy with.
#hush answers#ftm pregnancy#trans pregnancy#male pregnancy#mpreg#pregnancy kink#tmpreg#royalty kink#royalty breeding#unbalanced power dynamic#hush writes preg
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youtube
SPICELAND - “COACHMEN”
let’s drive until we’re free
#me#music#spiceland#morphmagic#lofi#country#youtube#Garfield#coachmen#f150#dr pepper#southern comfort
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So I was reading through the summary of Pinocchio because I’m not very familiar with the film, and this part intrigued me. A mysterious coachmen that takes disobedient boys to Pleasure Island, hm?
I’m curious that it seems like Ferro and Gidel are in charge of “Playful Land,” which seems to be a combination of Pleasure Island and Stromboli’s puppet show where Pinocchio became the star puppet. In the movie, they were conmen hired to do tasks for these shady businesses, but it didn’t look like they were in charge of them.
Anyway, I watched a clip of the coachman scene, and Honest John and Gideon really ARE afraid of the implications that the boys from Pleasure Island won’t come back “as boys.” So is there another character “pulling the strings” with Ferro and Gidel, or is Playful Land REALLY just Ferro’s creation?
I’ve been making some posts about the parallels between Ferro and Crowley, and the detail about the coachman hiring Honest John and Gidel to take “stupid boys” to Pleasure Island…I get reminded of the black carriage that comes to pick up every NRC boy, even if they live under the sea. The carriage with gates that are under Crowley’s control, hm? NRC is full of troublesome boys too…and if you include the Underworld theories with NRC, it is a bit of parallel of boys being turned into donkeys. Sages Island is also very very secluded from the rest of the world. How strange…
Edit: @sealpointrex made an incredible point about the Coachman’s assistants!
They look like shadowy blot figures, don’t they?? And knowing blot and the Phantoms exist…
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst playful land#twst honest Ferro#twst honest fellow#twst honest john#twst ferro#twst Gidel#twst dire Crowley#twst event#twst spoilers#kallistopost#twst theory
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Hey! I hope you don't mind reciving ask but i would like to ask 2 question!
First, is there any work in progress you will publish or are you up for some request after someone send it? I just want to know incase you're also have alot of things to handle outside of tumblr
Secondly, for your recent yandere king work about killing the darling. What would happen if one of the assistance manage to persuade your majesty being away from the castle, let just say some neighbouring country offer him to visit or something worse. Justo handle the dead body of darling?
And when the king come back to a whole new room and empty bed with darling sucessful burial? What would his reaction be? Would he still in denial?
hi hi!
so there are a lot of ideas that i have in the works for all of my yans and a lot of the requests that i get also add to this list. reading them makes me sooooo happy but it's getting to the point where i have more asks than i can answer within a reasonable amount of time (;
and as for your question about the assistant luring the king away from the castle, i think it's important to specify whether this is before or after his break.
if it's before, he'd just bring his sleeping lover with him obviously. eyes would follow the carriage that would have a strange smell wafting from it as it drove by and others would wonder why the coachmen used a handkerchief to cover his nose while he drove, but no one would dare say anything after noticing the royal insignia on the side of it. if you want to keep your head. it's common knowledge at this point that you look the other way and pretend as if you don't notice a thing.
if this is after, it might take him a couple of weeks, still too distraught with the knowledge of what he's done. he would apologize profusely to your dead body, looking for a a way to possibly bring you back. if the assistant suggested that there was a necromancer that they were unable to get into contact with on the other side of the kingdom, it might just give them the oppurtunity to get idris away from your body long enough to give you a proper burial.
god forbid they don't replace you with a look-alike because you're asking for a maniacally violent break if he comes back to his room to discover that his lover arose from the dead on their own and took his absence as a chance of escape.
the maids who cleaned up the room?
dead.
the guards who were supposed to be keeping watch?
dead.
the assistant who'd took him from his lover's side?
you get the picture, right?
no one would be safe.
#yandere#yandere oc#yandere x you#male yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#ask#yandere male#gn reader#yandere king#yan!Idris
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Rodya from Devyat' 🛐🛐
Also I headcanoning Devyat' Association as Yamshiks (Russian Coachmen) with whiplashes
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The Strong Willed Empress
Chapter 5 PT 2
"The Return of the Vulture"
Allarick walked quickly towards the bedroom wanting to wash up before meeting with his Empress. The Empress always wanted him looking presentable when he was in the divine presence of his beloved. The Emperors cape flew in the wind in a majestic and threatening way. He made slow calculated movements of a predator. Always watching and waiting for those... things.
The large gates rumbled and groaned to life once Allarick was standing close enough for the guards to see his face. All to slowly did they lift up. He could see the window to the bedroom they shared. Just arm's length away and he isn't there yet. 'This is taking way to long.'
The gates were to loud to hear the on coming carriage. The coachmen of the red, black, and gold carriage pulled the reins of the horses as hard as he could. The Emperor turned around to see the leading horses raise on their hind legs. He quickly moved out of the way only to cut the reins that held them to the carriage.
The beautiful carriage tipped on its side and skid to a stop. The enraged Emperor didn't care what they were here for or why they were speeding towards the palace, he just wanted them gone. A man around 20 cycles* old climbed out of the door. He held on for life hoping the wood would break under his weight.
Allarick glared at this man hoping that it wasn't another 'peace treaty'. He briskly walked over to the man and was preparing to behead him for coming into the palace unannounced.
"Halt! Re-sheathe your sword! I am The Prince of Amodod! Here to negotiate a peace treaty." That straw shuck of a man said to the Emperor.
"All the more reason to kill you then. Hold still, I'll make this as quick as my anger will let me." The Emperor sounded calm, to calm for the words coming out of his clenched teeth. The palace guards were rushing towards the scene with Alun behind them.
Dominic was watching everything from his window. 'Another concubine?? Shouldn't I be enough... though either way I'll remain the Empress' favorite.' He ran towards the double doors leading to the hallway and began to bang on them to let him out. Don't keep him in this room anymore! It's torture! The Empress is already looking for others to fill his shoes!
The Empress calmly waited in the throne room already knowing the chaos ongoing through the entire palace. The magnificent being sat on a plush pillow sipping on some water to help the headache growing from the stress of this week. A sigh echoed through the room.
Taglist : 1. @zanary 2. @meforpr3sident 3. @yandere-dark-cupid 4. @devils-blackrose 5. @gallantys 6.@eliciana 7.@ayolk 8.@gayfagdownthestreet 9.@hope-thehooker 10.@reallysparklychaos 11.@deepdinosaurwizard 12.@ana-dear 13.@laylasbunbunny 14.@heavenlayt 15.@redrosetrappola 16. @skull-centric 17. @wannapizzamymindposts 18. @pinkrose1422 19. @thisladyisgay 20. @brieftastemakercollector
#yandere#tonight talks#concubines#empress#yandere boy#platonic yandere#yandere x you#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere platonic#yandere male#male yandere oc#obsessive yandere#yandere emperor#the strong willed empress#thestrongwilledempress
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Hellebore Yuletide Hauntings 2023 issue! Now in stock at the Spiral House!
A Christmas Cauldron of Folklore and Fiction - Yuletide Hauntings Brews Spellbinding Tales
As winter nights grow long and crackling fires ignite, delve into the spectral heart of Britain with Yuletide Hauntings. This A5 magazine, bathed in the tradition of Christmas ghost stories, unveils 96 silk-coated pages overflowing with chilling delights.
Join renowned authors as they conjure tales of phantom Roman armies on modern motorways, mournful grey ladies in ancient halls, and headless coachmen galloping through moonlight. Luxuriate in evocative artwork and bask in the essence of folklore, history, and the very spirit of Britain itself.
Embrace the Yuletide Hauntings. Order your copy now and let it whisper forgotten secrets on a winter's breath.
Words by Verity Holloway, Edward Parnell, Maria J. Pérez Cuervo, John A. Riley, Julia Round, Katy Soar, and Alice Vernon. Cover by Courtney Brooke. Art direction by Nathaniel Hébert. Edited by Maria J. Pérez Cuervo.
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BICHO DE PALHA
@princesssarisa @hamlet-macbeth-othello @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @faintingheroine @allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken
(Portuguese and Brazilian Folktale)
They say that a very rich man was widowed and remarried, having a daughter, Maria, who looked young and was beautiful.
The stepmother immediately disliked her stepdaughter and became angry when she had a daughter and she was relatively ugly, compared to Maria.
The man had scattered properties and lived traveling, running his businesses.
He only lasted a short time at home and in those moments, Maria felt better.
In her father's absence, her stepmother forced her to do the roughest and hardest jobs, feeding her the worst and in insignificant quantities.
Life became unbearable for the girl who consoled herself by praying and crying.
On the way to the river where she went to wash clothes, she always met an old lady with serene features and very kind. Maria ended up talking about her suffering and remaining silent so as not to hurt her father.
The old lady encouraged her with words full of sweetness.
As the stepmother became more violent and brutal, the stepdaughter decided to leave the house and look for work far away from that hell.
She met with the old lady and confessing her idea, the old woman agreed, gave her a lot of advice, gave her blessing and as she said goodbye, she took out a small wand, white as silver, saying:
"Take this wand, Maria, and when you are in danger, desire or suffering, you must say: "my magic wand, for the magic that God gave you, give me". And everything will happen as you ask."
Maria was very grateful and ran away. First, obeying the old woman's advice, she made a large plaited straw cloak with a hood through which there was a way to look through, and got inside.
After walking for a long time, she arrived at an important city.
She asked for a job in a palace and was told there were no more places.
She was leaving, sad and hungry, when an employee remembered that they needed someone to wash the rooms, corridors and stairs and clean the servants' quarters. Maria accepted the task and, thanks to her unique dress, they only called her “Bicho de Palha”. Dirty, silent, withdrawn into corners, always working, Bicho de Palha didn't bother anyone and everyone tolerated her.
The palace belonged to a young, well-made and handsome prince, who still had a mother, and was of marriageable age. In another palace, on the opposite side of the city, parties would be held for three days.
The girls were excited about the dances, attended by the society boys. In the palace the conversation was about the balls. Nurses, visitors and maids commented on the organization and splendor of the three elegant evenings.
Finally the first night arrived.
Bicho de Palha, through the holes in her mask, looked at the prince and loved him sincerely. She discreetly hovered near him, yearning for an order. In the afternoon, as there was no other maid around, the prince shouted:
"Bicho de Palha! Bring me a basin of water..."
Bicho de Palha took the basin and the prince washed his face. Afterwards, everyone went to the ball, some to dance and others to watch.
Being alone in her dark room, Bicho de Palha took off her cloak, took her wand and commanded, as the old lady had taught her:
"My magic wand! For the gift that God gave you, give me a silver carriage and a dress the color of the field with all its flowers."
Words spoken, the silver carriage, coachmen and servants appeared, a complete dress, from the diadem to the field-colored shoes with all their flowers. Bicho de Palha got dressed, took the carriage and went to the ball where he caused a sensation.
The prince immediately came to greet her and only danced with her, not allowing the other young men to approach her.
He confessed that he was impressed and asked where she lived. Bicho de Palha taught:
"I live on Basin Street..."
At exactly midnight, on the pretext of going to breathe the fresh air, the girl ran to her carriage which disappeared down the road. The prince was inconsolable and left the party soon after.
The other day, at the palace, the maids told Bicho de Palha about the events of the ball and about the mysterious princess who had the most beautiful outfit and the most beautiful face of the night.
The prince had dispatched many servants to look for Basin Street, but they all returned without knowing anything. That afternoon, the prince asked Bicho de Palha for a towel.
When everyone left for the party, Bicho de Palha took the wand and obtained a golden carriage and a dress the color of the sea with all its fish. He got dressed and went to the ball palace.
As soon as she entered, everyone recognized her and hailed her as the most elegant, graceful and friendly. The prince never left her side, talking, dancing, asking a thousand questions. He insisted on the girl's address.
"I no longer live on Basin Street, but on Towel Street. I moved today." It happened like the first night. Bicho de Palha invented an excuse and got into the carriage that ran like crazy.
The prince also left and spent the next day sighing and ordering the whole city to look for the Towel Street.
Bicho de Palha listened to the enthusiastic impressions of the servants in the kitchen, all talking about the prince's passion and the beauty of the girl.
On the afternoon of that day, the prince asked Bicho de Palha for a comb. Finding herself alone in the palace, Bicho de Palha invoked the power of the magic wand and received a carriage of diamonds and a dress the color of the sky with all its stars.
Entering the ballroom, Bicho de Palha received the greetings as if she were a queen. No one had ever seen such an attractive girl and such a rare dress.
The prince walked behind her like a shadow, serving her and asking everything, crazy with love. Bicho de Palha said that she had moved to Comb Street, permanently. And they danced a lot.
Close to midnight, knowing that it was the time when the girl disappeared as if she were enchanted, the prince called his servants and ordered an excavation to be opened near the palace gate, waiting for the carriage to stop.
This, however, did not happen, Bicho de Palha jumped into the carriage and it took off like lightning, jumping over the ditch, but the jolt was so sudden that one of Bicho de Palha's shoes, thrown outside the door, was lost. A servant found it and took it to the prince, who was very pleased.
Everyone looked for Comb Street in the city.
The prince decided to find the girl another way. He ordered the shoe to be taken to every house, putting it on everyone's feet.
Whoever wore it perfectly, neither loose nor tight, would be the charming girl at the dances. The servants walked up and down the street, putting shoes on the feet of the young women and the old women.
None of them could take a single step with him on their feet. The servants returned to the palace and tried putting tits on the maids and nurses. Anything.
Finally, a servant in charge remembered that Bicho de Palha had not been invited to wear the cute shoes. They all laughed, but, so that the prince wouldn't accuse them of having left someone to wear the shoe, they sent for Bicho de Palha, as a reason to laugh, and told him to try it on.
Bicho de Palha, with her wand in hand, asked that the dress from the third night of the party appear on her body, beneath the straw cape.
The prince came to watch.
Bicho de Palha, surrounded by laughing servants, put his foot into the shoe and it fit her perfectly.
Then she stretched out his other foot and everyone saw that he was wearing shoes just like the first.
They could hardly believe what they saw, when the straw fell and the beautiful girl from the three balls appeared, with the dress the color of the sky with all the stars, the diadem with the diamond moon, everything shining like the very stars of the firmament.
The prince rushed in hugging her and calling for his mother so she could meet her future daughter-in-law.
They got married soon.
Bicho de Palha told her story, and the magic wand, fulfilling the wishes of the old lady, who was Our Lady, disappeared, leaving them very happy on earth.
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Saint Richard of Chichester
1197-1253
Feast Day: April 3
Patronage: Coachmen, Diocese of Chichester and Sussex
Saint Richard of Chichester was the son of a gentry farmer who became a reforming Bishop of England. He was a scholar, studying at Oxford and in Europe. In 1245, he became Chancellor and Bishop through the intervention of Pope Innocent IV, when Henry III had appointed another. St. Richard denounced corruption, introduced clerical reforms, and supported papal rights. Once during Mass he dropped the chalice with the consecrated precious blood yet not one drop spilled. He is buried by the altar of Bl. Edmund the Confessor.
Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)
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