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t4rt4gl14 · 1 year

Note

YOU NEEDING REQUEST?? AIGHT BET

I've been dying for some of the genshin man to over stim y/n while fingering them and sucking on their tits 😩😩

— JUST ONE MORE. R18+ — PT.1

featuring: kaeya. diluc. zhongli. childe.

PT.2: itto. kamisato ayato. heizou

PT.3 — BONUS: kazuha. scaramouche. al haitham. ( SEPARATELY )

☒fem!reader. soft/mean dom. fingering. overstimulation/edging. praise/degradation. hickeys. nipple play. semi-public. ‘hold the moan’. nick/petnames e.g ‘slut, baby, dearest..etc’

★ YALL I SAID I WAS GON COME BACK‼️ i missed y’all and enjoy this oneeee <333 [ new theme btw eheheh ]

KAEYA.

laying you down on the silky sheets ever so gently, caressing your smooth skin whilst his other hand snakes to your cunt, the moon illuminating your body which only causes kaeyas cock to strain in his pants. he can already feel it twitch to life but tonight he focuses on pampering you~ sliding one finger, attempting to find your sweet spot; he does so extremely fast and adds another finger. relishing in your sweet moans and whines, how you grip the sheets with each squelch of your dripping pussy— gummy walls tightening once he fingers you with 3 digits. prodding onto your g-spot without fail on each thrust. his thumb rubbing sweet circles on your clit as your orgasm comes crashing down. coating him in your juices as you mewl and convulse— body quivering, not from the cold but from sheer pleasure. “how cute~ oh how i’ve swooned for you, cum again.”

DILUC.

diluc constantly admires how you’re always willing to give him pleasure beyond his imagination. so willingly he returns the flavour; sliding between your thighs, peppering the flesh with hickeys whilst he teases your clothed clit. soon gently taking off your underwear and enjoying the slick that coated your cunt. he wastes no time, sucking on your sensitive bud while 2 fingers smoothly slip in, the sound of your juices slobbering his fingers resonating throughout the room. your fingers latch onto his red locks: tugging and pulling as the pleasure washes over your body however interrupted by that familiar knot tightening in your abdomen, “diluc! dilucdiluc!! m’so close m’gonna cum!!~”, his response was a light groan along with adding another finger. rubbing up on that sweet spot which inevitably causes your body to shake, cumming with a mewl as your back arches; hips bucking up. “not enough…one more, dove”, returning to your sensitive pussy: you wailed and cried out however your pleads were futile, just enjoy the moment <3

ZHONGLI.

in all seriousness you don’t what had gotten into zhongli today, he wasn’t his usual calm self but instead more well kept and strict…was it something you did wrong? the answers yes! your short skirts, high thighs, tight shirts, all causing zhongli to go feral; not to mention the man is basically a dragon. so here you were in his office at wungsheng funeral parlour, fingers ramming in n out of your cunt, his other hand toying n pinching your nipples whilst leaving hickeys all over your neck. “what a slut..dressing up like a whore; did you really think i wouldn’t notice??”, despite his degradation he was most definitely turned on! the bulge pressing up against your ass spoke for him. however soon enough his free hand slid down to your cunt and rubbed circles along your clit. clamping down on his fingers like a vice before cumming, throwing your head back onto his shoulder and softly moaning in his year. eyes rolling back when he continues and demands another orgasm. “cant cum again? nonsense. you can and you will.”

CHILDE.

when was he ever going to stop teasing you? shoving in 3 fingers whilst licking up your sweet cunt, grinning at how your knees buckle and your puffy clit twitches at the slightest; you’re sure your entire body is sore and the overstimulation feels like electricity coursing through your veins..but even when you tug on his finger locks the slight sting brings him joy. blood rushing to his cock, his tip oozing with the pre-cum, ooohhh how he just wants to shove it all inside and ravage you till the sun comes up alas perhaps your cute squirming will suffice for now, “mmng ajax! i-i cant! stop!~ cant cum again ohhmnng~”, your thighs squeezing his head however he just splits your legs back open, “oh? but i feel like you can take another..you can’t be that weak cmonnn”, he once again teases, rubbing your clit with his thumb…certainly going to be a long night indeed.

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marvel-ous-m · 9 months

Text

Charmed by Your Memory

written for ‘charm’ wc: 548 | rated: G | cw: N/A

A/N: Another great prompt by @steddiemicrofic! I had so much fun writing this one. I hope y'all enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Steve is ten, he meets a boy with no hair in the woods behind his house. The boy is visiting for the summer. He says he has to go back to his parent’s house in two weeks, but he suggests that they pretend to be knights on a quest to save a stolen prince. They play until the sun sets and the boy has to go back to his uncle’s house.

They spend every day like that, and Steve finds himself becoming best friends with “Edward the Brave”. They spin stories that, in retrospect, could rival the fantasy novels that Steve has read since their time together. (Read in an effort to find something that will make him feel the way that he did all those years ago- but all he gets is a parasitic loneliness that grows each time it’s fed by the false hope that builds when Steve tries to recreate those days.)

It’s the best two weeks of his life. On the day Edward has to go home, Steve searches his house for a gift, something to help Edward the Brave remember their time together. He finds it, something perfect in his mother’s jewelry box, and packs it away for later.

Edward meets him at the usual spot. There’s a gloom hanging in the air- something that neither one wants to acknowledge. Finally, after a moment of quiet, Edward pronounces that it’s finally time to save the prince. Steve drops the picnic basket and they run through the forest, whacking bushes dragons with their sticks swords. They end up in a clearing, and Edward quietly whispers for Steve to pretend to be the cursed prince so Edward the Brave can save him.

Steve lays in the grass and closes his eyes. The prince had been cursed to sleep forever, after all. The only thing that could save him was-

-True love’s kiss.

Edward the Brave is kneeling over Steve, their faces mere inches from each other. Steve opens his eyes quick enough to see Edward press a chaste kiss to Steve’s lips. Edward is blushing, and Steve thinks he might be, too. Steve smiles. “You saved me.”

Edward grins back.

They share a lunch of PB&J sandwiches, chips, and soda that Steve smuggled out of his house. The sun disappears behind the trees, and just before Edward has to leave, Steve gives him the treasure he’d stolen from his mother that morning- a silver bracelet with a small key charm. He then reveals a silver chain around his neck, where he’d strung the lock charm that had once hung alongside the key. “So we’ll always be together.”

Edward hugs him goodbye, delicately puts the bracelet on, then leaves with tears in his eyes. Steve resigns himself to never seeing Edward the Brave again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie the Banished is kneeling over Steve, their faces mere inches from each other. He holds a broken bottle to Steve’s neck. Eddie’s arm is angled just so- and Steve sees the charm bracelet. Steve reaches a shaking hand around his neck and pulls on the chain he keeps there, revealing the matching lock charm.

Eddie freezes. He lowers the bottle and reaches up to hold the lock charm in his hand. Finally, Eddie’s tear-filled eyes meet Steve’s. “You saved me.”

#steddiemicroficseptember #steddiemicrofic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #my writing #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #em writes

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sapphickorro · 1 year

Text

All Mine´ˎ˗

Pairing(s) - g!p knight!Natasha Romanoff x princess!Reader

summary: After getting betrothed to a princess, your love for your knight still lingers.

warnings: angst, angst with comfort, happy ending, 18+, girl penis Natasha, oral sex (r receiving), vaginal sex, p in v, unprotected sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, top Natasha, bottom Reader, arranged marriage

word count: 3,209

A/N: Excuse me if there’s any typos, I proofread to the best of my abilities. Also, medieval knight Natasha brainrott.

ao3 - masterlist

You’re in the middle of applying lotion onto your legs when you hear a faint knock on your door.

“Come in.” You presume it was one of your maids coming in to give you something your father had sent.

The door opens, bright locks of red hair peeking through. You stand up from the edge of your bed, “Nat?” You ask.

Your suspicions were proven correct when Natasha’s full body reveals itself from behind the door. You gasp, running towards her with your arms out. She smiles at your enthusiasm, laughing as she closes the door behind her. She holds her arms out for you embracing you in a giant hug, her arms on your waist lift you up into the air with your arms screwed tightly around her neck.

“I was only gone for a week, princess.” She drops you back onto the floor, still not letting go of your hold. “It was the longest week of my life.” You whisper up at her, tiptoeing to plant a kiss on her lips. She kisses back so tenderly it makes your heart swell up.

You step back to take a look at her full body, she’s in a tank top and shorts, her strong muscles out on display for you to gawk at. Your gaze drew onto the cuts and bruises littering her skin, her face was still bloodied, open cuts above her eyebrows and on her cheeks.

“Did you not see the medic before coming here?” You furrow your eyes, stepping away to grab your first aid kit by your bedside table. “I didn’t see a need to.” You sigh walking over to grab her hand. You drag her onto your bed, pushing her down on the edge. You sit next to her, opening the first aid kit.

“What have I told you about letting your team do the work rather than rushing in and getting yourself hurt?” She chuckles at your concern, her face warming up at the sight of your distress over her.

You use a towel to wipe off all the dirt and blood before applying alcohol to cleanse the wound. Natasha hisses at the contact of the alcohol filled gauze on her skin. “Quit it.” Your voice is stern. “What? It hurts.”

“No, I meant to quit risking your life out there.” You mutter out at her, avoiding looking at her eyes.

“If I had to fight a thousand more dragons and goblins to protect you, so be it. That’s a thousand more before seeing you safe.” She takes your free hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.

“You’re such a flirt, you know?” You roll your eyes blushing at her.

“What? I’m serious.” You smile at her, lowering your hand to cup her cheek before capturing her lips. She eagerly reciprocates, placing her hands onto your hips.

You lean on your back, allowing Natasha to lean over you. She whispers on your lips “I’m too sore in my body, let me pleasure you tonight.” You nod, whispering out an, “Okay.”

Natasha peppers kisses over your body, going from your shoulders to your thighs. The bottom of your white lace nightgown gets pushed to your stomach as Natasha eyes your white underwear hungrily.

“God, I can’t wait to worship this pretty pussy.” She slowly slips off the panties from your legs. You lift your hips to help her pull them off. She teases you more by spending more time marking your thighs.

“Nattttt,” you whine out, “I need you.” Your chest raises to look down at her, your elbows supporting your upper body. Natasha decides not to tease you any further and swoops in, licking a long stripe over your pussy.

You moan out, tilting your head to face the ceiling. Natasha’s hands come up to raise your legs over her shoulder. “Look at me while I eat you out princess.” She says, raising her head to look at you. Your head drops back to look at her, staring at her lust filled eyes. Her eyelids hooded and green eyes piercing your soul. She prods a finger in your hole before slipping it in.

“Your pussy swallowed my finger up, are you that needy for me?” She chuckles, lowering her head back down onto your bud, peppering kisses as she slowly slips her finger in and out of you.

“Faster, please.” You whimper at her slow pace. She slips a second finger in and starts to move her hand back and forth faster. Her tongue moves more rapidly against your clit. Your moans get louder, filling up the quiet room. You’re thankful that your bedroom is on a separate floor from everyone else, otherwise you would’ve been more embarrassed about the unfiltered noises escaping your mouth.

Your eyes are still focused on Natasha’s. Your breaths come out heavy and your fingers clench together, forming a fist. Natasha can tell that you’re close, her finger starts pounding into you. She curls her digits into you after every thrust, hitting your g-spot every time. You feel the pressure building up, “Natty, g-na cum.”

“Cum for me, let me taste all of you.” She mutters onto your clit, sending vibrations through your body. You fall apart orgasming with her name slipping out of your mouth.

Natasha slows her pace, guiding you through your orgasm before slipping out. Your elbows give out, dropping you onto your back, your head hitting your pillows. Natasha pops her fingers into her mouth before sucking them off with a moan. “You taste, divine.”

You smile at her, “Didn’t know you knew so many big words. Thought they’d all fly out of your head with the way you get your ass beat by goblins.” You giggled at her offended expression, she dropped her body weight onto you making you squeal. “I know lots of words.”

When the two of you settled down and got ready for bed, her arm rested on your waist, spooning you from behind. The silence is peaceful – welcomed.

“My dad wants me to get married.” You whisper out into the dark room, unsure if Natasha was still awake. “He’s betrothing me to Princess Kate of the Bishops.” You add.

For a while, she doesn’t answer, making you think she went to sleep. “When?” You hear her voice from behind you. It’s soft and you can tell she’s hurt by your announcement.

“Sometime during this week.” You feel her arms tighten around you. “Why didn’t I know any of this?”

“Because you just came back from being gone all week.” Natasha doesn’t respond, opting to place her head in the crook of your neck. Her arms wrapped tightly around you. You know she’s upset.

That night, the two of you are unable to sleep, knowing that these might be the last nights the two of you spend together.

The day of your wedding finally rolls around. You were arranged to meet Kate just hours before the ceremony began to get to know her. A carriage carrying your father and Natasha ride you towards their kingdom.

You’re sat next to your father with Natasha across from you. She’s in her knight attire, making her look larger than she already is. The two of you don’t look at each other the whole ride, scared that one of you might break and say something unruly in front of the king.

When the carriage stops, the door opens revealing another knight holding his hands out for you. You accept graciously, walking out with Natasha and your dad following behind.

“Princess Y/N! Welcome!” You turn your head towards the voice, you notice the queen walking towards you with her daughter following suit.

“Your highness, it's a pleasure to meet you.” You curtsy your dress, saying the lines that your father fed you on the carriage. She laughs softly, “Oh please, call me Eleanor.”

Your dad and her start a menial conversation when you’re pulled to the side by Kate. “You are more gorgeous than my mother painted you out to be.” She bows, taking a hand in her own, leaving a soft kiss on the back of it. It’s soft but doesn’t leave the same flame that Natasha sparks when she kisses your hands.

“I wonder how she described me then,” you grin at her. “She said you were the fairest maiden I’d ever see. To me, you’re more of an angel who’s cast their wings down onto Earth.” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Natasha grimacing at Kate’s unabashed flirting.

“I see you two are getting along quite well.” Your father says, interrupting the two of you. Kate turns her head, “I know that we were arranged, but I can tell that I’m already falling madly for your daughter, your highness.” Kate says, smiling at your father.

You could tell that Kate was a flirt, a people pleaser perhaps. You were flattered by the things she said, you just wished that they came out the mouth of Natasha instead.

They guided you into their Castle, their servants and maids grabbing all of your luggage while your knights stayed close behind. You are led by Eleanor to a fitting room, maids already lined up in there ready for you. “Your wedding begins in a few hours, let’s get the brides ready shall we?” Your dad eagerly nods in response to Eleanor.

You are pushed inside, Natasha tries to follow but is stopped. “I need someone strong like you to help me set up the chairs.” Eleanor plants a hand on Natasha’s armored shoulder. The door closes in front of you before you can say bye. The maids usher you down onto a seat, pulling out dresses for you to pick from.

You look at yourself in the mirror, you admit that you look stunning. Your hair is loose and curled. Your sheer floral dress accentuates your body. Your breasts are pushed up, making the soft innocent dress have a tint of sexiness to it. The dress drags over the floor with a large train, having the maids carry it behind you as you walk out. The veil on your head suddenly feels heavier as you walk closer to the doors that lead to your ceremony.

When the doors open, all eyes turn towards you yet your eyes land on one person only. Natasha’s standing next to the spot you’d stand at as your personal guard. You notice the tears in her eyes, her stoic expression maintains as to not show any emotion but you see through her facade. When you finally reach the head of the altar, your eyes glaze over Kate’s body. She’s in an all black suit, her hair’s tied up in the back with curls flowing down from her curtain bangs.

She smiles at you gently reaching her hands out to grab yours, you reciprocate her smile, holding onto her hands.

At the end of the wedding ceremony, everyone heads back to their sleeping quarters. The moon starts to show through the sky. You undressed into your lace nightgown, Kate’s in her sweatpants and tank top. The two of you sit on the bed, neither of you speaking or looking at each other. Kate breaks the silence, “Do you love her?”

“Who?” You turn your head towards Kate. She’s looking down at the bed fidgeting with her hands.

“Your knight, what was her name again?” She looks up to meet your gaze. “Natasha? No way, that’s ridiculous.” You fake laugh at her, pretending to be against that idea.

“You can be honest around me. I’m not mean like those other princes and princesses. I won’t put it against you if you do.” Your expression drops, realizing she caught on. You nod solemnly in confirmation, adverting your eyes to not meet her gaze. “I could tell. She was the only one that looked away during the nuptials – and, from the longing gazes the two of you sent to each other during dinner.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hands fidget on the blanket now. “Don’t be, I understand that her love came before mine.”

The two of you don’t speak, your head’s turned in shame from admitting your feelings for you knight to your now wife. “So I assume we won’t be consummating the marriage?” She tries to joke.

“W-well, I’ll do whatever I must…” You dreaded the thought of consummating the marriage with someone other than Natasha. You knew that you’d have to do it if Kate wanted to though, you were born with the task of bringing an heir to the bloodline.

“If your heart isn’t in the right place, nor is your body. You should go down the hall to the first door on your right, Natasha should be there.” Your eyes widened at her, shocked. “Why would you let me see her?”

“My mother and father never had a good relationship, they too were in an arranged marriage. I’d rather see you with another woman than for us to resent each other.” Her sad smile causes you to lean in to give her a hug.

“Thank you.” You whisper out, a genuine smile making its way onto your face. You notice her smile gets larger at the sight of yours. You run out the room, sneaking down the hall to Natasha’s room.

“Who’s there.” You jump at Natasha’s raspy voice in the dark room, her hands placed in front of her ready to fight. She lowers her hands when she catches a glance of your face shone by the moonlight.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? If Kate finds you-” You cut her off, “Kate knows.”

“Knows what?” She urges you to expand. “Knows about our relationship.”

“What? Is she furious? Did she send you here to break it off with me?” Natasha rambles. ”No, none of that.”

“She said that she's okay with me seeing you, she was the one that told me which room you were in.” Your hands find their way to Natasha’s shoulders, soothing them as they relax from being so tense. “Why would she do that? Isn’t she madly in love with you?”

“Well, she’d rather me happy and in love than upset in despair.”

“Maybe she isn’t as bad as I thought she was.” She smiles at you before catching what you said, “Wait, you love me?” You roll your eyes at her.

“Of course I do.” You lean up to plant a kiss on her lips. Natasha furthers the kiss by slipping a tongue in your mouth. You let her in your mouth without a fight. She walks you back towards her bed, the heated makeout session pausing to push you down onto the mattress. You sit up, running your hands over her muscles.

She pulls her tank top off from her chest revealing her breasts. “You’re so hot.” You plant kisses over her chest, giving hickies you know she’d wake up to the next morning.

“Lay on your back.” She pushes you down on your back, her hands grope your body through your nightgown. Her lips press down onto your lips again. She kisses you fervently as if she hadn’t seen you in years.

“You looked so sexy in that wedding dress. Did you wear it for me?” You moaned out a, “Yes,” as her hands started traveling down your gown, tugging it over your head. The cool air hits your nipples, hardening them.

Her hands cup your breasts, groping them roughly as her lips bite and mark your collarbone. Her tongue travels down to circle over your nipples. You’ve never seen Natasha so possessive. You’re embarrassed to say that it turns you on even more.

Natasha pulls her hands away to slip off her boxers, her hardened cock stills in the air.

“I need to be in you so bad princess, want me in you?” She strokes her cock, your pussy is drenched from the sight of its length. “Please, I need you in me Natty.”

She slides off your underwear, placing it into her fist and stroking the wet spot over her cock. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet.” She tosses the underwear over her side before lining the tip over your pussy. Her hands push your thighs apart from each other, placing your legs over her thighs. She slowly starts to insert the tip into your hole, already stretching you out with just the tip.

“Your pussy’s so tight.” Your hands hold onto her shoulders, gripping them.

“Too big.” You whimper, feeling her cock slowly enter through you.

“I know princess, I promise it’ll feel good.” She soothes you by peppering kisses over your cheeks. Her strong hands hold onto your waist. When she finally bottoms out, she stills inside of you, waiting for your approval to move. You take a deep breath nodding towards her.

She starts to rock her hips back and forth, her length sliding in and out of you at a slow pace. “Fuck, you feel so good princess.” She’s grunting at every thrust, her eyes staring into yours making you shy away from her.

One of her hands reaches under your chin to tilt your head back to look at her. Your eyes meet her possessive gaze. Your mouth opens as tiny whimpers fall out.

Natasha starts to speed up her pace, her length hitting your cervix every time. “Daddy, you’re so big!” Your eyes clenched shut as pleasure courses through you. “You need daddy’s cock?” She grunts her hips bucking into you at full speed. The bed creaks along her rapid movements.

“Yes, need daddy’s cock so bad.” You whimper, your arms come around to wrap over her neck, pulling her in closer.

“This pussy’s all mine, no one else's. Isn’t that right?” Your moans come out almost pornographic. They echo throughout the empty room, not caring if anyone else can hear the illicit noises coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, I’m yours. All yours.” Your back arches with your head pressing further into the pillow.

“Gonna cum with me baby?” She asks, rubbing your clit with her thumb sending further shocks down your pussy. “Yes, pump your cum into me daddy.” You whimper.

“Gonna get you all round and full, give you an heir. Want that from daddy?” You nod fervently. Moans spilling out in place of words. You feel Natasha pause her movements as a rush of liquid enters your body. Your orgasm follows after, your thighs clenching tightly onto her waist. Your moans are synced up with Natasha’s moans. She places her head into the crook of your neck, slowly pumping her hips more to ensure all her cum enters you.

“All mine.” She whispers onto your skin before pulling out. She leans back to admire the white liquid spilling out of you before scooping it back into you with her fingers. She chuckles at your blissed out face, dropping kisses onto your forehead before grabbing her discarded tank top to wipe the sweat off your face.

She drops back down onto the bed next to you, hugging your face onto her chest and pulling the blankets over your bodies. “I love you.” You whisper into her chest.

She smiles, wrapping your hands behind your back and entangling your legs together, “I love you more, princess.”

#﹔﹒ korro writes﹒ ෆ #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you

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ladystarksneedle · 6 months

Text

The eye of envy

Summary: A maid at the keep finds her own flame through the words of the dragon.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: implied smut, mentions of child death, burns and injuries, angst.

Prev<

Masterlist

Her body aches in ways it has never before. She has known hardship her entire life, strenuous work from dawn to dusk pushing her to the brink of exhaustion and fitful slumber. She wakes up equally restless now, deliciously sore as she gets to work hiding the bruises beneath the wimple she opts to wear. She finds his eye following her movements every time she enters or perhaps she’s more aware of his presence now that her longing has borne fruit. The sheets are changed more often with longer baths being taken together, grasping and clawing at each other till they're raw and need to be cleansed again. She finds herself visiting the sept more often, eyes on the lookout for his ardor as she begins honoring the Mother forsaking the Maiden before her. It is a wishful dream that she now lives every day, yearning for yet another part of him to hold and she’s answered soon enough.

The wails that haunt the hallways make her shrink in terror wishing for the Stranger himself. There are whispers of madness and horror floating around that make her want to retreat into herself and run away from it all. The servants are rounded up again and cast into the dungeons awaiting harsher trials as she paces around her quarters unharmed yet she knows she'll face her fate soon enough. The blood that she'd given to him so readily hasn't arrived with the moon's turn making her choke back a sob. Some part of her thinks he knows what lies within her and it is perhaps his clemency which shields her from his wrath yet every time he returns to her his touch is fierce and unyielding, punishing her with sweeter torment. He leaves with a smirk on his face and a kiss to her cheek with a lingering promise of more as she struggles in silence. The Mother seems to have confused her punishment for the son that grows within her blooms as the young princeling of six wilts and the screams only grow louder.

The days that follow are short and agonizing. She's confined to his chambers with little knowledge of what passes outside other than the whispers passed at meals delivered to her on time. The King has ordered the death of all the rat catchers of the keep along with servants who've been presumed guilty. The stench of flesh soon greets her despite the windows being shut tight. Their bars can only hold so much death.

It is a solemn occasion that greets her later as she dresses him in black. She feels him clench his jaw throughout the night in anticipation with no amount of coaxing soothing the guilt that he struggles to hide. She feels it too, a hand pressed to her womb in passing, feeling the pain she hears down the hall yet she braves it for him. He leaves shortly, assigning a guard to her door, prohibiting her leave as she's tucked into his bed with a lingering gaze. She knows the pain he carries now is for them both.

He becomes careful with her once the ashes of the little boy are strewn to the skies. His hands linger and ghost over her belly before retreating to clenching over nothing. There are days where she sees him only around the hour of the eel, woken up to being pulled close and taken in haste. There is an urgency to his movements which he tries to hide as he gives in to pleasure while not forgetting her own, yet he's gone before the sun rises leaving her locked and alone. She feels like a prisoner with more comfortable lodgings. She busies herself tidying his things yet she longs for home and the comfort of her own mother the most. It is days later when she's visited by one, clad in teal with her hands clasped in front of her. The Dowager queen looks as regal as she's spoken of, out of place next to a woman of her status as she bids her to sit. There is a sorrow that clings to her, haunting her beauty as she speaks.

“How are you doing”

“I am well your grace”

“That is good. You perhaps know why I’m here then”

“I make no demands of your grace. The prince-”

“Is quite fond of you, yes. It is why I've allowed him this fancy in the first place”

“It was not my intention”

“It never is” she responds ruefully. “The Mother has chosen to bless you child, in a time when she's tried us all” she continues fidgeting with her hands “Look after him” she whispers tiredly. She finds the woman that leaves is not the mother she hoped for but a crone gliding through the halls.

The first time she calls him by name is when he leaves for battle. She wakes up before dawn to ready him, helping him with his armour as he stares ahead. She cannot stop her tears as she finishes clasping his eyepatch in place before he pulls her to him whispering to her in the language of his ancestors. He kisses her farewell with a smile and a promise to return and that is what she finds herself praying for daily. She calls him by his name in her dreams, in the thoughts that haunt her while she kneels on stone. She lights candles for the Warrior to guide his blade and flame and for the Father to give them justice for the sorrow she sees amidst green. It is three moons later when word of victory reaches them before she finally approaches the Mother in peace.

The royal parade returns as her belly begins to swell. She hears the cheers in the distance and sees the head of the red horned beast that started it all, before seeing him fly triumphantly above. He returns to her with pride etched into him caressing her with longing burning through them both. It is only later she realizes how deeply the fire has consumed them all. The King screams in agony drowning the wails of his Queen who stares at him, pain etched into her features. She's been ushered into the room to help yet cannot stomach the sight before her. He's covered in bandages, salves and ointments lining his peeling skin, perpetually drunk on milk of the poppy to dull his senses. She sees her hold his hand and whisper something to him which is lost to the wind before she rises and leaves as the Dowager queen cries silently nearby. Aemond stands at the threshold observing it all with a blank face yet she knows what he sees. She remembers her mother telling her it is a curse to play chase with the Gods, yet as the man ahead of her screams as he's weaned off intermittently she can hardly summon any pity. Her heart lies with her lover at the threshold.

The night passes in flashes of anger with bolts of lightning illuminating the skies heralding imminent danger. She feels the empty bed next to her as her eyes adjust to the dark. It is cold as she struggles to wake up and explore. It is the last thing she should be doing but with him back she cannot feel anything but a semblance of security. She pads along the floor in her robe before making her way to where she thinks he is. She sees him stalking towards the monstrosity ahead as she lets herself in with a creak of the great oak doors.

“You shouldn't be here” he says as he hears her approach.

“Neither should you”

“It is to be mine on the morrow”

“Is it” she counters bravely “He still lives”

“Yet he's too weak to exert his will. It is I who’ll rule in his stead” he says, watching her reach him. “All of this will be ours someday.”

“In everything but name” she whispers reluctantly.

“Is it my name you still want when I have given you so much more”

“I want everything,” she admits.

“Greed doesn't become you”

“It seems to have found its place with you”

“This was always meant to be mine.” he remarks.

She sees another flash of lightning illuminate his face, silver and leather bathed in the moonlight, as she turns towards him.

“You promised me your protection as long as I wished to continue. That is all I still ask for” she whispers, taking his hands in hers.

“Do you know the story about how the Iron throne was forged” he asks “A thousand blades were melted to take its form. A thousand men fell for its cause”

“Do you plan to fell a thousand more for your own?”

She sees him smile in response as he replies “You shall have all that I have to give in time. Conquests do not yield their fortune in a day”

“Only King's perhaps” she finishes looking at him.

She dresses him at dawn with trepidation, her eyepatch now discarded for a new beginning. His sapphire glints in the dark as he clasps one around her neck.

“You are mine today for all to see” she thinks he means to tell her, as he pulls her to him from behind admiring the way it sits above her collarbones.

The ceremony is long and foreboding. She stands to the side in blue as he's crowned, curtsying with all the grace she can muster. She sees her father in the distance looking at her with confusion and her mother smiling knowingly before they bow. As the sun rises in the distance and steel finds a home atop a new head of silver, she feels the Smith at work, fashioning bonds aflame like the golden pin that glints on his collar. The doe ahead of her fumes in silence.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond @watercolorskyy @b00kw0rmsworld

#house of the dragon #aemond fics #zae's fics #aemond x maid reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #hotd imagine #hotd fic #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader

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geekgirles · 30 days

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The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 5: Brown Eyes, Blue Eyes, Green Eyes

Word Count: 29,752

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Chapter Summary: "Tensions rise when an emissary from Bonta invites the Eliatrope King, his siblings, and especially the Divine Doll living with them to an official event in Bonta, and the fact that Yugo and Amalia's relationship hasn't been quite the same since they came back from their little adventure certainly doesn't help. But things only get more complicated when the appearance of a new rival makes Yugo's blood run cold."

He was mesmerised the moment she stepped into the room. It was as if she alone reflected all the light shining down on them, drawing it to her body and leaving everything else in total darkness.

She was indeed a beacon of light and hope amidst the miserable hole that had become of his existence in the last few centuries. And all because he’d learned too late you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself.

Oh, but when his eyes first landed on her, he knew he had finally found the one person who truly deserved to be by his side. Just one wayward look from her brown eyes had been enough to melt his frozen heart, breathing new life into an old carcass whose only single-minded focus had been his people’s protection and well-being. How much they would be able to benefit, having her ruling by his side. Just one look at her was all he needed to know she was the key to solving every single misfortune ailing his people.

She was simply exquisite. His fingers itched to reach out to her and be able to run his hands up and down her body, marvelling at the unparalleled softness of her mahogany skin; kneading her supple flesh until every inch of her skin was covered with his fingertips. He couldn’t help but bite his own lip at the sight of hers, pouty and plump, beckoning him to bite down on them and taste her. How did he burn to weave his fingers through her forest-green locks, the idea of inhaling her soft fragrance almost enough to bring him over the edge.

She was simply divine. A true gift from the gods. Her tantalising, childbearing hips swayed back and forth in a most alluring dance, drawing all eyes to her scrumptious figure even as it was hidden from view with those rags he made her wear.

His gaze turned dark as he left his beloved’s sight to settle on him. So aloof, so distant, so indifferent. So unworthy of her. He didn’t know the true extent of the challenges one must face for his people. He couldn’t treat such a vision of loveliness like she deserved to be treated. He didn’t deserve her.

And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her his.

.....................................................................................................................

Yugo had had no way of knowing the chain of events that day would unravel. In fact, not even Chibi would have been able to predict the turn things were about to take that day.

The Eliatrope King and his siblings were gathered at the council room, having their first non-Amalia-related meeting practically since she arrived, when he was overtaken by a strong sense of déjà vu. Right as Shinonomé was in the midst of giving her and Qilby’s report on their latest findings on a medicinal herb they’d been growing, the doors burst open, a very disgruntled-looking member of their elite guard panting as he struggled to catch his breath.

His eyes were wide with shock.

Before Phaeris could even finish demanding an explanation for why he would interrupt a Council meeting, the guard managed to blurt out an answer that chilled them to their very core:

“An… an emissary from…from Bonta is here… He… He wishes to…to see you, Your Majesty.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yugo had already teleported out of the room, his pace brisk and alert at this unexpected development. The pit in his stomach only grew worse when the guard informed him of the emissary’s extraordinary abilities—he only demanded an audience with their king after beating most of the elite guards single-handedly.

In the midst of such worrisome news, Yugo couldn’t help but be impressed. If he really was that good, then how come he hadn’t been sent alongside the rest of this world’s heroes to face him last time? The thrill-seeking part of him couldn’t help but muse about how that might have actually made things more interesting back then.

When he finally made it in front of the gates guarding the throne room, the Eliatrope made the split-second decision of not entering through them. That was what their ‘guest’ would have been expecting, after all, and he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any intruders. So, with a snap of his fingers, a portal materialised right underneath his feet and transported him right above his throne, allowing him to land on top of his seat with practised ease.

Much like what happened the last time they had company, Yugo certainly hadn’t been expecting what stood right in the middle of the room.

Bonta’s emissary was a remarkably small man, even shorter than Glip. He wore a patched-up grey romper and slippers, with a leather belt adorned by a rather large metal buckle. Beige fingerless gloves covered his hands, and a short-sleeved dark blue coat with a fur collar was draped over his form. He seemed to carry some sort of wooden backpack on his back.

But the strangest thing of all was his skin. It was dark, remarkably dark. But it wasn’t like Amalia’s mahogany skin. No. Bonta’s ambassador was black as coal from head-to-toe, the only exception was his pointy, grey nose. Even his eyes were black! Truth be told, it took Yugo a minute to realise that, no, his coat’s hood—which was adorned by two woolly antennae—didn’t obscure his face; his face was pitch black, too!

Not for the first time since their arrival, the Eliatrope King quietly wondered to himself just where on the Krozmos his people ended up. The World of Twelve could not be considered normal. First, living dolls sent by the gods, and now this.

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable.

As Yugo and Bonta’s emissary entered a staring contest, both of them willing the other to break the silence first, several flashes of light followed by the sound of someone landing on the floor was all Yugo needed to know his siblings had arrived. The king didn’t even have to break eye contact with their uninvited guest to know Adamaï was hovering beside him.

Finally, Yugo had had enough.

“I sure hope you have a good explanation for your intrusion, Mister…?”

“I’m known amongst the Twelvians as Master Joris, Your Majesty.” The emissary, Joris, responded immediately, lowering his body as a sign of respect. “And with all due respect, I believe you should find my explanation more than satisfactory.”

“That I have a hard time imagining.” Yugo commented with a raised eyebrow, before his expression turned dark. “After all, you seem to have attacked some of my guards and trespassed on our property.”

Joris’ voice remained eerily calm even as he explained himself, “I apologise if any harm has befallen your people, King Yugo, but I was tasked with a mission and fulfilling it is my highest priority.”

“Oh.” It was Adamaï who spoke, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he regarded the ambassador cautiously. “And pray tell, Master Joris, whatever could it be?”

He remained as stone-faced as ever. When he slung his log-backpack out of his shoulders, the Council tensed up immediately, each and every one of them taking on defensive and offensive positions in case the little man tried anything. However, the aggression in their eyes was replaced by pure shock when Master Joris simply placed his backpack on the floor next to him as he lowered himself on one knee as a sign of respect.

And even that was nothing compared to their astonishment at his next words:

“Queen Astra of Bonta has sent me here to inquire about the Sadida woman living on the island with you.”

At that revelation, Yugo almost choked on his own spit. All around him, his siblings shared worried, perplexed glances at the accusation, even if they tried to hide their surprise around their ‘guest’. A Sadida woman? What? They hadn’t had any contact with the outside world since the Twelvians sent their warriors after him! Where in the Great Goddess’ name did they get that idea from—?

And then the truth dawned on him.

Amalia.

While it was true Amalia looked indiscernible from a human, she most certainly was not. Her presenting herself in her doll form the very first time they met more than confirmed that. But that still didn’t explain why Bonta’s queen was so certain they harboured a Sadida woman with them. More importantly, it didn’t explain how they’d come to be privy to that piece of information.

If he wanted answers, he would have to be very careful with his wording.

“I’m afraid I’m obligated to inform you that no Sadida woman lives here, Master Joris.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

Master Joris narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. He understood what was going on here. You didn’t become one of the queen of Bonta’s most trusted envoys without learning a thing or two about high politics, after all. If he wanted answers, he would have to provide some of his own until he managed to gather enough intel.

“With all due respect, my King,” He started, his head bowed in order to appear non-threatening. Although he had to admit it might be too late for that after his treatment of their guards. “We were informed of her presence by some Cra soldiers that were flying over the area. I do not know how deep your knowledge is on the races populating our world, Your Majesty, but a Cra’s sight is second to none, and their sense of honour is unparalleled.” Joris finally raised his head to look deep into the Eliatrope’s eye, his words laced with the utmost seriousness and sincerity. “They would never lie about something like this.”

Yugo’s eyes widened like saucers at his words as they finally provided him with the missing piece to complete the puzzle, and he could sense his siblings had the same reaction. The Cra sentinels from a few weeks ago! But when could they have seen—? But of course! Phaeris informed him of their ‘visit’ the very same day he and Adamaï took Amalia out of the palace. They must have caught sight of her then!

As he gathered his thoughts, Efrim snarled at the emissary, and for once his king was grateful for his distrusting nature, “And what exactly were those Cra doing around our territory in the first place? Does their strong sense of honour not apply to spying on others?”

However, Joris remained unperturbed, meeting the dragon’s accusatory glare with a stony glance of his own. “Rest assured, this has nothing to do with your people being spied on.” He wisely chose not to comment on how, technically speaking, Oma Island wasn’t their territory; they just claimed it for themselves and no one had been willing to take it back yet. “Cra are often sent on reconnaissance all around the World of Twelve. Their stumbling across your people was not their intention.”

Their suspicion hung heavily in the air. While Nora kept her brother from acting rashly, the rest of the Council members all tried to convey the same thing to Yugo through their eyes: “We cannot risk causing further trouble with the Twelvians, find out what he wants and send him away.”

Which was much easier said than done after what Master Joris said next, “It was during one of those missions when, trying to use their eyesight to better locate themselves, they saw a young Sadida woman by your side, Your Majesty.”

His hands clutching at the armrest of his throne for support, Yugo forced himself to remain as composed as possible, knowing how showing too much emotion could have terrible consequences.

“I understand, Master Joris. However, I maintain we do not have a Sadida woman with us. Those Cra soldiers were mistaken.”

Once again, Master Joris’ whole demeanour remained unchanged. He had seen far too much in his long life to let himself be swayed so easily. “Your Majesty, I beg you to listen to what I have to say: a Cra’s eyes are never mistaken. The other kingdoms are already aware of the situation and on high alert, especially the Sadida Kingdom. They fear you might have taken one of their own.”

Or a betrayal, it’s what went unsaid, but everyone heard it loud and clear nonetheless.

“If you do not return her to her people or, at the very least, explain why she is here with you, this could result in war.” Joris sentenced, his eyes severe as he implored the Eliatropes to see reason. And yet, despite himself, the dark-skinned Bontarian couldn’t help the feeling of apprehension taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tight.

Given the outcome of sending their greatest warriors to battle King Yugo, he sincerely feared the Twelvians would fail despite the overwhelming odds in their favour.

The chance of living in peace with the Twelvians slipping from his fingers right under his nose, Yugo was left with no choice but to make a rash decision. His siblings, especially Adamaï, could chew him out for it later.

Praying to the Great Goddess that this wouldn’t come back to bite him, he finally said, “We don’t have a Sadida woman living with us.”

Joris barely suppressed the urge to sigh and shake his head ruefully. So that was it, huh? They’d rather face war than come clean. Queen Astra would not like this, and Prince Armand would most likely throw a fit at their insolence, and while King Oakheart would try to remain level-headed and composed, even he would not be able to let this offence go. They were going to war.

“Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.” Master Joris bowed his head one last time before raising to his feet. However, just as he was about to grab hold of his backpack and be on his way, his fingers froze at the king’s next words just as he was about to reach for the handle:

“She is a Divine Doll sent by the gods themselves as a sign of good will. We have not caused the Sadida nation any harm.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Joris allowed himself to lose his composure. Whirling back around to face the Eliatrope monarch—and noting the discreet, astounded looks the blue-and-white dragon by his side sent him—, he couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“What did you just say, Your Majesty?”

For once, it was Yugo who remained unperturbed. “The young woman the Cra saw isn’t a Sadida.” He paused, weighing his next words carefully. “Well, not exactly. She is a Divine Doll that was sent to us by the gods about two months ago. She’s been living with us ever since.”

Joris could not believe his own ears. A Divine Doll, sent to the World of Twelve? After all this time? He had to be sure the Eliatrope King knew what he was talking about. He simply could not know the significance those dolls held to their world.

“A Divine Doll, you say? And pray tell, which one of Sadida’s ten dolls lives on Oma alongside you, my King?”

Yugo braced himself for what was sure to come next. “His eleventh doll, Amalia.”

Bonta’s emissary almost had to do a double take. Then, he blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. He implored the gods to give him some kind of sign he had heard him wrong. He had to have heard him wrong. There was simply no way he actually said there was an eleventh doll. Had Prince Armand been there, he would have already attacked the Eliatrope with a giant carnivorous plant for daring to disgrace his culture so brazenly.

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid that is impossible. Sadida only made ten dolls back in the Primitive Era.” He forced his voice to remain as even as possible, choosing his words very carefully. It looked like they indeed had taken a Sadida prisoner and were either mocking their beliefs or she had lied about her identity. For what purpose, he could only wonder.

“Perhaps that is so.” The new voice forced Joris to turn around in surprise. It belonged to an older-looking Eliatrope with a white tunic and glasses. “Indeed, from what I’ve gathered, Sadida created ten dolls in the Primitive Era, but I believe my king never said anything about this doll being from then.”

The Bontarian furrowed his brow, intrigued. “What are you implying, Master…?”

“Qilby.” He supplied simply, his tone far too affable for the kind of bombshells he was dropping. “And I’m simply speaking the truth, Master Joris. Our dear doll was not created in the Primitive Era, but she was made especially for our king.”

Qilby’s claim feeling like a suckerpunch, he only vaguely registered what the bespectacled Eliatrope said next, “Yugo hasn’t lied once during this entire conversation, Master Joris. The woman the Cra soldiers saw is not a Sadida, yet she is indeed Sadida’s eleventh doll.”

If what they were saying was true… That, that changed everything. He had to make sure. He had to see her with his own two eyes before he risked causing a commotion amongst the Twelvians. If Sadida had truly created a new Divine Doll after all this time… It would shake the very foundations of their civilisation.

His resolution unshakable, he turned once again to face the King of the Eliatropes, “Your Majesty, I request an audience with this Divine Doll.”

Yugo could feel himself bristle at the request, his death grip on his throne turning his knuckles white. His whole body went taut at the mere notion of introducing Amalia to the Twelvians. For a moment, he seriously considered declining, but then he looked around him, his dark brown eyes registering everyone staring expectantly back at him. He looked at the few guards remaining, the sight reminding him of the fact that Master Joris had only attacked his subjects because he and his people still didn’t consider the Eliatropes as one of their own.

And then he thought of Amalia, how her presence was supposed to be a sign of good will, a bridge between the Eliatropes and the races native to the World of Twelve. He almost let out a mirthless chuckle at the reminder. The gods sent Sadida’s most precious flower yet they didn’t do anything to ease their worshippers into accepting them. And then, as if his mother Herself were looking out for him, he remembered Qilby’s words from back when Amalia first entered their lives:

“Not even them would be able to reject our presence for much longer if they learned we have their gods’ blessings.”

Yugo couldn’t help but let out a small gasp at the memory. Loath as he was to admit it sometimes, Qilby’s prodigious memory and his matter-of-factly nature had saved him more than once. They reminded him once again of the place Amalia occupied in their lives:

She was their key to earning the Twelvians’ acceptance.

Ignoring the strange pang in his chest at his thought process, telling him for some reason that wasn’t quite it, the king eventually allowed a pleased smile to tug at the corner of his lip. With a gracious nod towards Master Joris, he turned to the guard that had warned them of the Bontarian’s visit. “Please, Elias, escort Lady Amalia to the throne room.”

“Yes, my King.” With a deep bow, his arm to his chest, Elias did as he was told. As soon as the portal flickered into existence, he was gone.

Catching Master Joris standing tall—or, well, as tall as someone so short could stand—and alert as he waited for Amalia to arrive, Yugo couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. With a clear of his throat to gain his attention, as soon as the emissary’s black eyes flickered over to him, he explained, “My apologies, Master Joris, but I would suggest you get comfortable.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but if Lady Amalia truly is a Divine Doll, then it is imperative I greet her with the respect she is due. Introducing myself to her while sitting down seems hardly appropriate.”

“Oh, and I respect your commitment to protocol, Master Joris. It’s just that it might take them a little while to arrive.”

“I was under the impression that your portals served to transport you from one place to another almost immediately?”

The emissary didn’t miss the way the king and the dragon by his side exchanged meaningful glances. “That is true. However, Amalia will not be coming through a portal.”

Joris quirked an eyebrow at that.

.......................................................................................................................

Saying Amalia fell off her bed in surprise when one of the palace’s elite guards stepped out of a portal and into her room wouldn’t have been right. So the two of them had agreed not to speak a word of the incident. However, that was nothing compared to how taken aback she’d been upon being informed Yugo requested her presence at the throne room.

As Amalia kindly rejected the guard’s—Elias, he introduced himself as—offer to go through one of his portals and allowed herself to be escorted to the throne room, the doll couldn’t help but let her mind wander. The current state of her relationship with the Eliatrope King at the forefront of her mind.

The distance he drew between the two of them hadn’t lessened any in the past few weeks. If anything, it only grew a little bit wider each passing day. It was so frustrating, to know the cordiality you were treated with was nothing compared to the warmth you’d once been subjected to. The kindness and care Yugo used to treat her with could put the sun’s rays to shame, whereas now that stiff politeness of him could put out any fire.

They had yet to have any more meaningful conversations since they returned from the beach, their current interactions amounted to little more than pointless small talk and awkward greetings. The longest the two of them had held a conversation as of late had been when she begged him to talk to Glip and Baltazar about attending their classes.

Ever since then she shared longer, more meaningful conversations with her classmates, some of whom still had trouble remembering irregular verbs, mind you; than the one person on Oma she thought she could call her friend.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t frustrated. And mad. Oh, she was so mad at him for daring to give her the cold shoulder without so much of an explanation! One second they were out and about on their first adventure and having a great time, and the next he acted like having her around was physically painful! And now he summoned her to the throne room like nothing happened? Now he wanted to talk to her?

What gives?!

And why the throne room, of all places!? Couldn’t he have just knocked on her door to talk to her like a normal person? Or, seeing as he was anything but ‘normal’, was it really so hard to visit her balcony and ask for a moment of her time? Apparently it was, for he just had to summon her to the freakin’ throne room like a gobball to the slaughterhouse.

Stealing a quick glance at Elias’ back, the Divine Doll went to discreetly and quickly rub the side of her face with the back of her hands, trying to keep the tears at bay. More than anything she felt hurt. So terribly, incredibly hurt. Her heart would give an uncomfortable squeeze whenever she dwelled too much on her own loneliness. And yet, she couldn’t help but wrack her brain every night as she went to sleep in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. But no matter how much she tossed and turned and tortured herself, she always came up empty-handed. She just couldn’t understand.

All she knew was Yugo was pushing her away and she didn’t even know what she’d done wrong.

Just as the stinging in her eyes was beginning to become too much to bear and Amalia could feel her throat beginning to constrict into watery sobs, Elias halted abruptly. Looking up in surprise, she saw they had finally made it to the throne room. They’d finally made it to Yugo.

Placing a hand against the gates, the guard asked her, “Are you ready, Lady Amalia?”

Scrambling to blink her tears away and to smooth out her clothes and touch up her hair, all in an attempt to present herself as put-together as possible despite her turbulent thoughts, Amalia gave him a resolute nod.

“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you, Elias.”

With a nod of his own, the young guard opened the gates and welcomed her inside. Entering that room for the first time since she first arrived, Amalia let her gaze wander and reacquaintance itself with what lay inside.

Supporting the weight of the massive oval dome acting as their roof stood eight malachite columns forming an arch, causing the light filtered through the windows to bathe everything in a greenish blue hue. Each of them were separated by what at first glance looked like large stained glass windows but that, upon closer inspection, one could see were actually portals connecting to the different areas around the island to grant their subjects easier access—something she learned from asking Glip about their own portals located around their classroom.

Standing on the other side of the room, meant to be the first thing you saw upon opening the doors, was a long staircase connected to the throne. Amalia hadn’t seen many in the relatively short time she’d been alive, but she had to admit the sight was as impressive now as it had been when she first arrived. Sculpted in stone, the back of the throne branched into two large and imposing dragon wings; an actual green-coloured stained glass window depicting the Eliatropes’ emblem—a spiral formed by an Eliatrope baby and a dragon cub—could be seen right between the two wings.

Now that she looked more closely, Amalia could make out six hollowed spaces located at specific spots on the wings, but before she could try and discern what they truly were, she was brought back to the present by her heart skipping a beat when she accidentally locked eyes with Yugo.

Heat coming to her cheeks at their brief interaction, she bashfully turned her head away, reprimanding herself on seemingly forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him. Just as she did that, however, her gaze ended up on a mysterious little man instead, the sight causing her to blink in surprise. This time, she had to bring a hand to her chest at the powerful thud resounding in her ribcage at the sight of him.

She didn’t know how or why, but this man held a lot of power. She could just feel it.

Yugo’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, and she had to bite down her bottom lip to prevent herself from sighing. She hated how much she missed the sound of his voice.

“Amalia, allow me to introduce you to Master Joris.” He gestured at the man from his throne. “He’s been sent here on behalf of the queen of Bonta.”

Amalia blinked, shocked. Oh, that… That was new. Shaking her head slightly to gather herself up, she curtsied to their guest. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Joris.”

For his part, Joris had to admit that for the first time in a very long time he was left quite stumped. The young lady before him was a true vision of loveliness, with her soft and delicate features, her silky green hair, her doe-like eyes, and her elegant figure. He had a feeling she had to be the most beautiful Sadida he had ever laid his eyes on. The only one he believed could eclipse her beauty was the late Queen Sheran Sharm, whose hand had been the most coveted amongst the nations until she eventually chose to marry King Oakheart.

Truth be told, the resemblance was uncanny.

However, perfect as Lady Amalia looked, she was still just a Sadida. Her complete lack of doll-like attributes like stitches or the leafy headband Divine Dolls were known for were proof enough of her utter lack of divinity.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, his manners impeccable even as he feared he was being duped. “Forgive me for being so brazen, my Lady, but His Majesty has informed me of your heritage?”

“My heritage…?” She echoed, not sure where this was going.

“Indeed. I was told you are Sadida’s eleventh doll.” He explained. “And that you were sent here by the gods?”

Oh, so that was what he meant. Amalia let a small smile grace her features. “That is correct, Master Joris. Father created me to be Yugo’s’ bride.” She stated proudly, completely unaware of the way her declaration had Yugo panicking inside. Okay, he did not mean for that piece of information to slip out. And judging by the way Master Joris’ eyes widened in surprise, there was no way he hadn’t heard her.

Ignoring the way the Council of Six collectively lost their minds as they tried to figure out how to do damage control of the situation without screaming their lungs out hysterically, Amalia went on, “He says I am his masterpiece.”

Even in the midst of his internal screaming, Yugo couldn’t help but agree with the Leafy God. Amalia was truly a marvel of nature. Regardless of how her sisters had turned out, it was clear the nature god had outdone himself. Which, more often than not, only made his already difficult life harder.

“I am sure Sadida Himself is very proud of the outcome, Your Grace… if what you say it’s true.”

That made her frown, uncertain. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Amalia, but I was sent here to inquire about the sighting of a Sadida woman living on Oma Island alongside the Eliatropes. You see, such a thing could have rather… unfortunate consequences we ought to avoid. Which is why I am here, to make sure there is nothing to worry about.”

“But there isn’t any Sadida woman living on Oma Island…” Amalia muttered, squinting her eyes, uncomprehending.

“That is what King Yugo said as well, yes.” Joris nodded, before his dark gaze met Amalia’s brown eyes, a small shiver running down her spine at the intensity of his stare. “He explained you’re actually a Divine Doll, but I’m afraid that is something I must verify myself.” Then, raising his palm up, he gestured towards her, “If you don’t mind…”

Despite the rocky state their relationship was in, Amalia found herself staring back at Yugo for guidance. “I don’t understand…”

His heart squeezing in pity at the sight of the doll’s discomfort, Yugo offered, “I believe Master Joris is trying to ask you for some proof that you are indeed a Divine Doll, Amalia.” His voice was so soft and reassuring he surprised even himself.

He tried to ignore the way his siblings exchanged knowing glances as they gestured at him with their heads.

Again, Amalia blinked, only this time she was more surprised at the simplicity of the answer. “Oh, really?” She asked, turning back to the emissary for confirmation.

“If it’s not too much trouble, my Lady…”

While Master Joris remained as stoic and alert as always, his hands behind his back as he awaited for Amalia to prove her identity, the Eliatropes and their dragons braced themselves. Adamaï in particular snapped his mouth tightly shut. They were already used to the doll’s demonstrations of divine power and were half expecting some kind of mystical wind to pick up at any given time and scoop Amalia up while leaving a mess of leaves or flower petals in its wake.

In fact, they were so ready for some kind of chaos to ensue they couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved when Amalia disappeared behind a harmless puff of smoke instead. Both the Council of Six and Master Joris could only look on, perplexed, as a small brown and green rag doll emerged from the puff of smoke and walked over to Bonta’s emissary.

As soon as they were just a few inches apart, Amalia smiled up at a speechless Master Joris before bowing down deeply. “As I said, my name is Amalia, Master Joris. I am Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. I hope this is enough to prove my identity.”

For his part, Joris just… stared, almost unblinkingly. Okay, even he had to admit this was new. On the bright side, it also proved that Lady Amalia was definitely one of Sadida’s dolls.

Snapping out of his trance, he cleared his throat a little awkwardly. He returned Amalia’s bow with a small one of his own. “It is more than enough, my Lady. My apologies for doubting you.”

“I trust this is enough to assuage your queen and the other nations’ concerns?” Yugo stated, his demeanour outwardly calm despite the undercurrent of powerful emotions running below his skin. He didn’t even have to look to know his siblings shared the same fears: the last thing their people needed was another war for their right to exist.

Which is why a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders when Master Joris nodded in response. “Rest assured, Your Majesty. This should be enough to put our rulers at ease.” But just as Yugo and his siblings were about to release a sigh of relief, the emissary’s next words caused them to stiffen up again, “However, I hope you will understand I must inform them of Lady Amalia’s true nature. This kind of development, Sire, is… It’s truly astounding for our people, you see.”

“I understand.” The Eliatrope barely suppressed the urge to groan and rub his face in aggravation. Still, there was something he had to ask. “But do tell me, Master Joris, will this affect my people and our relationship with your leaders in any way?”

“All I can say for certain, King Yugo, is that they will surely grow interested. As I said, Lady Amalia’s presence is a very serious matter.”

“Do you mean my presence might cause problems?” Amalia inquired with a worried hand to her chest, her doll-like appearance only showcasing the vulnerability she was displaying at that moment. She had mostly remained silent during the two men’s exchange, but her worries had spiked up at the thought of causing trouble for the Eliatropes.

Distantly, Yugo couldn’t help but notice it was kind of adorable… Before realising what he was thinking and forcing himself to focus on the conversation at hand with a shake of his head.

Master Joris was quick to raise his hands in a placating manner. “Oh, no, my Lady. It’s not that. Trust me, no Twelvian would be foolish enough to try anything against one of Sadida’s dolls.” From the corner of his eye, Yugo could see Nora releasing a sigh of relief at that. He honestly felt the same way, as it meant their people should be safe as long as Amalia was with them. His eyes flickered back to the ambassador when the Bontarian added, “Although I should probably warn you your presence will warrant their interest in you. Expect more news from Bonta in the near future.” He told that last part to Yugo, turning to meet him directly in the eye.

“We will, Master Joris. Thank you for your visit.” It’s what he said, but deep down Yugo was far too occupied begging Eliatrope to let this be a one-time thing.

And thus, with one last polite bow to both the king and his bride, Master Joris picked his backpack up and, under everyone’s astounded gaze, disappeared in the blink of an eye, a gust of wind the only indication he had ever been there.

“Okay, I think it’s high time I said what’s on everyone’s minds”, Chibi spoke up for the first time since they met their unexpected guest, gesturing wildly at the space he had just occupied, “What in the Great Goddess’ name was that guy?!”

While his siblings shared their theories on the mysterious little man that had just turned their world upside down, Yugo’s eyes fleetingly met Amalia’s, before the two of them averted their gazes as quickly as if they’d been burned, a flush on their cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by Adamaï.

.........................................................................................................................

Sure enough, just as Master Joris had promised, barely a week after his surprise visit, a Cra-crafted magic arrow drove itself into a wall, startling them all. To say Glip almost had a heart attack as he saw it pass right under his nose, literally, would be an understatement. With class cancelled that day due to the sudden fright, the Council of Six met up once again for an urgent meeting, apprehension behind their every move as they all gathered around their king to discover the contents of the letter.

Unsurprisingly, it was a letter from Master Joris informing them of Queen Astra and the other rulers’ reaction upon discovering they harboured Sadida’s youngest daughter. Surprisingly—and by that they meant shockingly, astonishingly, heart-attack-worthily—, the World of Twelve’s different nations had convened amongst themselves and reached the decision to extend the Eliatropes an invitation to Bonta, where they would all meet up in a banquet meant to celebrate such wondrous occasion.

All they asked of the Eliatropes in return was that both King Yugo and Lady Amalia were present. Beyond that, any other member of their ruling class was welcomed to attend as well.

Once they got over their initial shock and excitement over what that could mean to their people, the most cautious members of the Council—namely, Mina, Phaeris, Chibi, and Grougaloragran—warned them they had to be careful. As great an opportunity as it was, they could not let their guards down, therefore, it would be wise if some members stayed behind to oversee and protect their kingdom in case of an attack or an emergency.

They all agreed wholeheartedly with that. Not surprisingly, Efrim was the first to volunteer to stay behind, and Yugo couldn’t help but feel grateful for that. His youngest brother’s hostile and distrustful nature, especially around Amalia, would not do them any favours with improving their relationship with the Twelvians. And seeing as Glip, Baltazar, and Shinonomé would remain as well and they weren’t exactly battle-oriented, then having the more combat-ready Efrim around was actually the wisest choice.

As they all discussed how they would proceed and how they would behave at the festivities, Yugo couldn’t help the strangled yelp that escaped his lips when Nora roughly grabbed him by the hood and yanked him down to her eye-level. Her pink eyes glimmered with the utmost seriousness, the kind that she usually reserved solely for battle.

Struggling out of her grip, he scowled at her. “Nora, what are you doing?!”

But she remained unbothered, her hands on her hips and her face as expressive as a rock. Rather than acknowledge his rightful outburst, she just stated flatly. “You have to summon the Royal tailor. Now.”

The king’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s true it’s been a while since we last donned more formal clothing, but—.”

“It’s not that!” Nora snapped. Giving her brother’s words some thought, though, her hand to her chin, she then admitted. “Alright, that too. After all, we can’t exactly present ourselves to what’s supposed to be a civilised party wearing our battlesuits; we must showcase our people’s own rich heritage and history to the other rulers. But that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?”

Nora actually rubbed her face in frustration, groaning exasperatedly as she went. Each passing day the reason why Yugo never got married was less of a mystery and more of a foregone conclusion.

“Amalia, Yugo. I mean Amalia! The Twelvians think she’s your bride, meaning she will be our queen!” She hissed, causing her brother to flinch at her outburst. “If we want to show them we are serious about coexisting peacefully, we must show them Amalia is one of us so they'll have no chance to try and drive us away!”

Just as she finished her little spiel, she brought a hand behind her back and opened a portal. Sticking her hand inside, she flicked Efrim in the back as a warning to keep his mouth shut. Knowing him, no doubt he was about to protest and insist the Sadida Doll was definitely not one of them.

“Nora is right.” Shinonomé agreed, coming to stand by her sister as she stared directly into her king’s eyes. “As impressive as Amalia’s shapeshifting can be, I highly doubt she’ll be able to replicate our traditional ceremonial clothing. She needs a professional’s help.”

“Grougaloragran would appreciate a new ceremonial tunic as well.” The black dragon piped up, though he shrank a little into himself at the unimpressed glances his siblings were sending him. Feeling a little bashful, he rushed out to say, “That and we should show the Twelvians we are taking this invitation seriously. We must look the part.”

Yugo could only look back and forth between his siblings in disbelief, his mouth agape. Groaning quietly to himself, a hand to his temple to soothe his rapidly impending headache, he couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes his siblings were impossible.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” He exclaimed loud enough for them to hear. After a short while of him gesturing wildly at them, their heads finally snapped to look back at their king, expectantly. “Have you all forgotten already?! Despite what Master Joris and the Twelvians seem to believe, Amalia is not my bride! I’ll have to clear up any misunderstandings at the celebration before they can cause any trouble!”

“Well, duh.” Phaeris chimed in, shrugging. Yugo could feel himself staring owlishly at the turquoise dragon; that had to be the least dignified reaction he’d seen of him in the several centuries they’d been alive during their current reincarnation.

Unperturbed by his king’s stare, the dragon went on, as if what he was about to say were common sense, “It is important we explain the situation with Lady Amalia, it’s true. Otherwise, they might accuse us of lying to serve our own purposes.”

Some of the tension left Yugo’s body. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Phaeris.”

But Phaeris wasn’t done. “But, as Nora pointed out, it is also imperative we make it clear that Lady Amalia is with us, lest we risk being deemed as undeserving by the other nations and they try to take her away.”

“Which would then rob us of any immunity Lady Amalia’s presence might grant us by virtue of her being a Divine Doll.” Mina finished for him, sharing a meaningful nod with her twin.

“In other words, you’d better summon the Royal tailor as soon as possible, Yugo. We’re going shopping!” Nora announced, throwing one hand in the air in celebration. Truth be told, the tone of her voice sounded more like she was just looking forward to getting some new clothing, rather than preparing for an extremely important diplomatic mission.

As the rest of the Council murmured in agreement all around him, Mina and Chibi discussing things like the overall design of the outfits they would commission, Yugo eventually gave up with a sigh and a helpless shrug. He arched an eyebrow when Adamaï landed softly by his side, an encouraging grin on his maw.

“Look on the bright side, Brother. You’ve been thinking about summoning the Royal tailor on Amalia’s behalf for a while now. Now’s your chance.” He winked playfully at him.

Yugo snorted at his brother’s antics. “Oh, Ad. You always know just what to say.” He rolled his eyes, only half-joking.

......................................................................................................................

Lately, the best way Amalia had to describe her life would be by saying each day felt like a tornado passed by and turned it all upside down, swooping her up as it went. One day Yugo summoned her to the throne room where she had to prove her identity to a mysterious little man overflowing with power beyond mortal comprehension, and the next there was a knock on her door she barely had a few seconds to even respond to before a bearded, older-looking Eliatrope came rushing in and started taking her measurements and talking about fabrics, and complementary colours and ball gown shapes and who knew what else.

Amalia was convinced not even her father had pricked her with a needle as many times as this man—the Royal tailor, apparently—had when he was sewing her up. And she was a doll Sadida made from scratch!

Now, despite her limited time on the World of Twelve, Amalia had to admit she had grown to be quite coquettish. It didn’t take long for her to develop a healthy kind of appreciation for quality clothing and looking one’s best. And when the tailor told her she had been summoned to Bonta alongside the Council of Six, she was more than willing to go along with it and look the part.

What she wasn’t so appreciative about, however, was spending countless hours still as a statue as she had her measurements taken and her skin pricked by needles. And finding out about said invitation through the tailor and his assistants when it should have been from Yugo was just the last nail on the coffin. Especially when, apparently, the Twelvians expected her to go as Yugo’s plus-one.

That little son of a weed was starting to really get on her nerves. In fact, Amalia remembered she couldn’t keep her temper from flaring at such revelation, to the point she ended up startling the poor tailor half to death when she stomped on the floor in frustration and her bed shot up to the ceiling in response, the action causing a small tremor to echo around the palace.

One thing was to avoid her—which was a very hurtful thing to do to a friend in the first place—, but to send literally anyone else to tell her important news, especially when they concerned the two of them? She was starting to get really sick and tired of whatever game Yugo was playing.

A scoff escaped her lips, which earned her the curious glances of the guards escorting her. But she paid them no mind. She was far too busy wallowing in her own bitterness. She was so angry she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself from groaning in aggravation.

So he wanted to play, huh? Fine, she would play along. She would go to the banquet in Bonta as his partner, play the part, but she was done being the only one always making an effort to get close to each other. So his definition of friendship was to be distant and aloof? Fine. That was exactly how she was gonna be.

The Sadida Doll had just made up her mind when she was finally led to the palace entrance, where she’d meet up with Yugo and the rest of the attending members of the Council before they all left for Bonta. Despite the large gates leading outside being closed, the doll could still make out the excited chatter coming from the other side. The Royal tailor had been so kind as to inform her they would address their people first before parting for Bonta, hence the location where they would meet up at.

Fine by her. She had yet to truly meet any non-Primordial Eliatropes beyond the palace staff and the children.

As she waited for the Council to appear, Amalia took some time to admire her new clothes. In the end, she had to admit she liked her new dress a lot more than she had been expecting she would.

More importantly, she had been pleasantly surprised to find out she quite enjoyed the simple elegance it conveyed. She wore a modest cream silk dress that reached down to her feet and left her shoulders and arms exposed. Apparently, that colour had been chosen precisely so it would create a nice contrast with her dark skin. The tailor had described it as having a semi-sweetheart neckline and a mermaid skirt, although he insisted it would not impede her mobility and the skirt was specifically designed to flare with her movements. And Amalia had to admit she liked the way it fluttered around her as she walked.

While primarily white, the dress wasn’t without a touch of colour. A forest green sash was tied around her waist, with the ends hanging from the centre and going all the way down to just above her shins. A golden belt buckle showcasing the Eliatropes’ emblem helped fasten it. And draped around her shoulders was a large, sheer equally green shawl. The fabric was big enough to act almost like a cape. Much like the belt buckle, it was fastened around her neck with a matching golden brooch with their emblem engraved on it.

As for her hair, for once Amalia wore it almost entirely loose, allowing it to stretch down to its actual length—just below her upper back. A simple high bun held together by a modest headband completed the hairdo.

Despite how peeved she was feeling at the moment, Amalia had to admit both the Royal tailor and his assistants had done a splendid job. She would have to thank them later.

Her good mood instantly soured as soon as she registered the familiar flash of blue light from the corner of her eyes. The soft thud! coming from beside her as well as the fact that she could feel someone towering over her was all she needed to know Yugo and his siblings had arrived.

“Good afternoon, Amalia.”

Wait, that was it? That was all he had to say after so long without even speaking a word to each other? Just a simple greeting? No apology due to how he’d been acting? No further explanation as to what they’d be up against? Didn't he have anything to say about how she looked?!

The Divine Doll grit her teeth and clenched her fist so hard she almost drew blood, trying to restrain herself. She had already decided she wouldn’t let him affect her anymore. Forcing herself to take a calming breath through her nose, she turned to look back at Yugo…and was left frozen on the spot, although she could feel her cheeks grow hot at the sight.

Much like herself, Yugo had dressed himself up for the occasion. And much to her chagrin, her eyes immediately travelled up and down his body in admiration as her brain struggled to process what was going on.

While he still wore a blue hooded cloak, this one had more golden details than his usual one, with gold lining up the seams beyond just the hood. Even in her speechless state, a part of Amalia couldn’t help but find it odd that he insisted on covering his head despite going on official business with the other monarchs, although she was oddly relieved and endeared to see it wasn't enough to hide the fact that he’d braided the bangs framing his face. She hated how adorable it looked. Instead of his usual bodysuit, he wore white harem pants and sandals, and while his dark blue fingerless gloves remained, the same couldn’t be said about his sleeves, as he wore an equally blue, sleeveless, high neck top with more golden lining highlighting his pectorals and sides. A silk sash the same colour as his cloak tied to the side of his waist completed the ensemble, joining both halves of his outfit seamlessly.

However, what really caught her eye about the ensemble was how the lack of sleeves brought attention to the weird markings on his arms. They were like spirals going up and down his arms, snaking around his forearms and curling it on themselves on his shoulders and wrists. It was definitely strange, and yet, the weirdest thing of all had to be how those markings looked more like scars, for the skin they covered was of a darker tone as the rest of him.

She must have been staring a little too hard, for after letting out what sounded like an awkward cough, Yugo eventually explained. “These are ceremonial Wakfung tattoos.” He gestured at them. “It’s not customary for Eliatropes to get them—if you look closely, you’ll see none of my siblings have them—, but I find they help to better project and manipulate wakfu. Ad has them too, though only in his true dragon form.”

Blinking slowly in surprise—partly at the information and partly because that was the longest he’d spoken to her in a while—, Amalia finally turned her focus back at the remaining members of the Council of Six. Sure enough, not only did they not have the same markings as Yugo on their skin, but they also wore similar clothes to him, even if they shared the same colour palette as their regular outfits or had little details that helped them to stand out. For example, Nora wore a bandana around her neck, no doubt meant to act like her usual mask; and Chibi had pieces of gold scattered all over his clothes; Mina was the only one beside herself to wear a dress, and her hat was more elaborate than usual, with even more details embroidered onto it; and Qilby… Well, he looked marginally less haggard than normal.

Adamaï, Grougaloragran, and Phaeris, however, looked the same except for Grougal’s tunic looking a little more regal. Amalia supposed it made sense; as dragons they didn’t have much use for clothing in the first place.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, she couldn’t stifle the gasp that let her mouth when Yugo interlocked their arms, the crook of her arm coming to rest against his. She was so startled by the action she almost forgot to be angry at him. But she recovered just in time to discreetly puff out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Are you ready, Amalia?” He asked, and for a moment she hated how genuinely concerned he sounded. But she was not going to fall for his fake pleasantries again.

Her tone was flat when she answered, “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Before Yugo had time to dwell on the apparent lack of her usual excitement, Chibi turned to address the guards standing by the door. “Open the gates.”

“Yes, sir!” With their customary greeting, they pulled the rope that served to open the large doors, giving way to the excited crowd outside as they cheered and celebrated their leaders.

“Long live the Council of Six! Long live King Yugo!”

“May the Great Goddess be with you!”

“All hail our leaders!”

After a few more minutes of cheering and applause, Yugo raised his hand as a silent request for his subjects to quiet down. Seeing the gesture, little by little, the noise around them died down, the Eliatropes present waiting for their king to speak.

Yugo allowed a reassuring smile to tug at the corner of his lips. “My beloved people, as you all know, we have been granted a once-in-a-lifetime chance to prove our intentions are pure to the natives of this world. It is our duty, as your leaders, not to let you down.”

“Today we will be travelling to Bonta,” Chibi continued, his tone measured and collected. Amalia was sure that had to be the most serious she ever heard him. “From what we’ve gathered, the city is one of the most prosperous and powerful nations in all of the World of Twelve. And such, it is imperative we leave a lasting impression on them, for this could be the first step into receiving their blessing to live alongside the Twelvians.”

“We promise to both gather information regarding our neighbours and to prove our own worth as a kingdom.” Qilby added, adjusting his glasses with one finger.

“Hopefully, by the time this is over, we will have earned their respect and will be one step closer to finally earning their trust.” Nora went on, her pink gaze betraying her hopes for what the night might entail.

As the members of the Council kept on talking and assuring their people they would do everything in their power to bridge the gap between Twelvians and Eliatropes—something Amalia still didn’t fully understand but no one bothered to tell her about—, the Divine Doll felt a hand tugging at the skirt of her dress. Blinking in surprise, she looked down and found herself face-to-face with a beaming little girl.

She remembered her from class, her name was Camilla and she was very shy but very sweet once you got to know her. Which was why it was such a shock that she seemed to have overcome her shyness to hand a flower to her, a small blush on her cheeks.

Oh. That explained the little prick of pain she felt earlier.

Allowing her first genuine smile of the day to grace her features, Amalia leaned down and gracefully took the flower from the girl’s hands and placed it at the base of her bun. And with that, little Camilla beamed up at the Sadida Doll once more before going back to her parents.

It was at that moment that Amalia realised things had got oddly quiet. Looking back at the crowd, she almost flinched upon realising they were all staring back at her. Her second mistake was subconsciously glancing at Yugo for answers, the sight causing her chest to constrict almost painfully.

The way the Eliatrope King was looking at her—his eyes glimmering with fondness and an unfairly adorable grin on his lips—was as soft as butter. Despite the way her heart skipped a beat, a part of Amalia wished he wouldn’t look at her like that, not when he had spent weeks avoiding her like the plague. It was simply unfair.

What he said next almost brought her to tears.

“I would like to thank Amalia especially for making all of this possible.” He said, and the doll couldn’t decide between swooning at his words or smack him on the back of his head with a vine. “Without her, who knows how long it would have taken the other nations to express an interest in getting to know us.”

“Long live Lady Amalia!” The Eliatropes gathered exclaimed almost in perfect unison.

In spite of her turbulent emotions, the green-haired beauty had to admit it felt rather nice to have your name chanted like that.

Just then, Qilby stepped forward, holding several glass bottles in his hands. He took one and raised it high above for all to see. “These potions were sent to us by the ambassador of Bonta himself. Apparently, they will transport us directly to the palace, where the banquet will take place.” After he said that, he distributed each and every one of them amongst his siblings and the doll.

As she took hers and stared back at it, Amalia thanked Sadida for their existence. She could not promise her new dress would arrive intact at Bonta had she had to travel through one of Yugo’s portals again.

Yugo himself spoke next, taking the cap off and raising his own potion up, an action they all soon mimicked. “For our future!” And he gulped down the magic beverage.

“For our future!” The Council repeated, following suit and drinking their own, with Amalia scrambling to do the same.

And in a literal flash, they were gone.

.................................................................................................................

When her eyes finally adjusted to the change in lighting filtering through her eyelids after drinking the potion, she finally opened her big brown eyes to take it all in. What she saw caused her to let out a gasp of surprise.

They had been transported into a moderately-sized hexagonal room with white marble walls, royal blue tapestries hanging from some of them while the others held portraits of what she could only assume were relevant figures in Bontarian history. She was inclined to believe they were previous rulers, as they all wore some sort of golden crown with wings. Beyond that, there were potted plants adorning the corners—they were healthy, she could tell, but they would definitely benefit from some actual soil and sunlight.

“Looks like they’re waiting for us.” Nora piped up, drawing Amalia’s attention with her.

Her eyes landing where the pink-eyed Eliatrope was staring at, the doll finally took notice of the large royal blue with golden hinged doors right in front of them, the cacophony of voices coming from behind. Amalia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. It felt like all she did lately was wait in front of doors.

“So, how long do we have to wait for?” Chibi asked no one in particular. “Do we just go in or…?”

“Phaeris believes it is customary to wait until one is formally introduced by an announcer. Perhaps that is the case here as well.” The turquoise dragon pointed out.

“For once we agree, Phaeris.” Qilby murmured, rolling his eyes alongside his dragon sibling upon making eye-contact with each other. With a low scoff, he adjusted his glasses over his nose. “I suggest we wait until we are formally introduced.”

“And what if no one is supposed to introduce us?” Adamaï questioned, an eyebrow raised.

“Then we wait for Bonta's little errand boy to come find us.” The eldest Eliatrope said dismissively.

As the others were discussing how and when they should step through the doors to meet the other leaders waiting for them, Amalia was momentarily startled by Yugo placing his hand over the one resting on the crook of his forearm. Even though she knew it was meant to be a polite way to ask for her attention, given his recent behaviour towards her, to the doll it felt more like a loud demand.

“Amalia, remember how you introduced yourself to Master Joris?” He asked, momentarily taking her aback. Then again, what else was new with this man?

“You mean the first or the second time?” She shot back, trying to keep her voice cool and unaffected.

“Uh… The second one. When you transformed to prove your identity.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember.” She nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you remember you told him you’re supposed to be my bride?”

Her eyes widened as realisation finally hit her. Oh. That. She had been so caught up trying to assure Master Joris she truly was a Divine Doll and talking about how her father had created her, she totally forgot about that little detail. More specifically, the fact that she had been told that wouldn’t be happening almost as soon as she stepped foot in Oma.

She averted her eyes as she shyly pushed her fringe away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that, Yugo. I really wasn’t thinking about that back then.”

“It’s okay, Amalia.” He told her reassuringly, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stop being so good to her if he was only going to go back to ignoring her once this was over. “Don’t worry, I’ll clear up the misunderstanding. But I need you to do something for me. Is that okay?”

“What is it?”

“My people, they… We need this. We need to leave a good impression on this world’s rulers, and you’re our key to achieving that.” He swallowed, as if to give himself some time to gather his thoughts and find the right words to say. His hold on her hand tightened a little. “My siblings and I believe the Twelvians will be more welcoming of our people if they see you’ve become one of us. So even if you’re not my bride, we… I need you to show them that your home is Oma Island, that your presence among us is indeed the gods giving us their blessing to live on their world. Do you think… Do you think you can do that?”

Even though he was in no position to ask any favours of her right now, not after the way he’d treated her lately, or the fact that the way he phrased it made it sound like he himself didn’t believe her being sent to them was meant as a sign of good will from the gods—from her father—, Amalia had to bite down the retort forming on the tip of her tongue. Despite everything, he was right. She still didn’t know what the situation was like between the Eliatropes and the Twelvians, but the more time passed, the more she felt it couldn’t be good.

Even if no one told her upfront, it was clear to see if you paid close attention. Like the way Yugo insisted she wouldn’t be able to leave the island even when she was allowed to explore with him by her side. Or the children’s wistful sighs and longing looks at the thought of playing outside of Oma’s confines. Or the way the entire Council and palace staff seemed on edge as soon as Master Joris arrived.

Whatever the reason, this was important to all of them. And she couldn’t risk jeopardising it just because she was mad at Yugo.

So with a sigh and a heavy heart, yet feeling determined by her choice, Amalia gently squeezed his hand back. “Rest assured, Yugo. You and your people have welcomed me to your kingdom, and now I shall honour our agreement. You can count on me.”

If the king noticed the way she was back to talking in an overly formal manner with him after so long, he didn’t show. Instead, he just smiled down at the doll. “Thank you, Amalia. Really, it means a lot.”

Not trusting her own voice, the Sadida Doll limited herself to nodding.

Finally, it looked as if Phaeris’ prediction had been right, because they were all brought back to the present by the sound of trumpets being played coming from the other side of the doors. Then, as they all took positions to present themselves as composed and regally as possible, a nasally voice announced, “Presenting King Yugo of the Eliatropes and Lady Amalia, accompanied by the distinguished members of the Council of Six Adamaï, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Mina, Phaeris, Nora, and Qilby.”

“Why do I gotta go last? I’m the eldest!” She heard Qilby grumble to himself, before he let out a little, outraged huff.

No sooner was the announcer done speaking, did the gates open up, bathing the waiting room in the bright lights coming from the incredibly vast ballroom, a cacophony of voices echoing around the walls as they all took their visitors in.

As they made their way inside, his hold on Amalia tight but not too much as to not risk hurting her, for he feared the Twelvians would try to separate her from him—from them!—, Yugo wasted no time scanning the room. Many of the people present he recognised from their botched attempt at introducing themselves, when they accidentally crashed a meeting between the world’s leaders, but many others he did not remember. While most of the guests appeared to be Bontarians, many others had more defined races, which suggested they belonged to their respective ruler’s entourage.

Or maybe Bonta was that much of a cosmopolitan and multiethnic area. That, he didn’t know.

For her part, Amalia was enraptured at the prospect of finally meeting the gods’ followers. As her eyes travelled around the space in search of her father’s people—in search of her people—, she could finally see for herself how, indeed, a god’s worshippers inherited some key aspects from their deity.

Eniripsa’s followers shared their patron goddess’ delicate features and fairy-like wings, all of them traits that underlaid their unparalleled skill at tending to the ill and wounded without even batting an eyelash. She had trouble understanding why Fecas had blue hair while their goddess was a dark brunette, but the golden, horned armour some of them wore was unmistakable. Cra had inherited their goddess’ golden hair, pointy ears, and poise, even if Amalia had to admit the older woman who seemed to act as their leader hadn’t exactly inherited the same astonishing beauty as her father’s dear friend.

While, oddly enough, female Sram were pretty much regular, masked women, it was plain to see their god’s skull-like features through his male followers. All Ecaflips present seemed to replicate their god’s feline grace, and the way she could spot several of them playing card games around the room made their connection to the feline deity of chance all the clearer.

As their group slowly made their way to the centre of the room, where a portly woman with golden skin, short platinum blond hair and covered by a blue mink cape stood alongside a much taller, dark-skinned woman with much narrower features—the familiar crowns on their heads hinting at their true position as Bonta’s rulers—, the sight of Master Joris by their side brought a relieved smile to Amalia’s features.

To be honest, she was glad to see a familiar face. Especially after catching sight of what she could only assume was the Osamodas royal family. Besides their blue skin and moorg-like ears and horns, the reason she could easily pinpoint their loyalty to the beast god was the fact that she got the exact same feeling she experienced when she had been first introduced to their patron god. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.

Although she had to admit her eyes lingered for a moment longer on what appeared to be the eldest daughter, as her clothing was closer to something she herself would wear—although a lot tackier—compared to the feathered robes the members of her family donned. But even that did nothing to soothe her nerves as her cold, calculating red eyes seemed to scrutinise her.

She sent a quick prayer to her father so they wouldn’t have to interact.

Almost as if Sadida himself had heard his youngest daughter’s plea and sought to offer some comfort, Amalia’s whole face lit up in excitement when she finally took notice of the small entourage standing close to the Bonta rulers. The strong sense of kinship that enveloped her let her know she’d just found exactly what she’d been looking for: the Sadida royal family.

It seemed to be composed of a father and son duo, the few remaining men by their side appeared to be on high alert, which implied they were actually some high ranking officials rather than royals. Through them, the Divine Doll could see some key aspects that immediately reminded her of her father. Beyond standing taller than most other races, their skin was also considerably darker—unless you counted Twelvians whose gods had blue skin, like Osamodas and Sram, of course—, not unlike tree bark. Their clothing, heavily inspired by the vegetation they surely surrounded themselves with, was also a clear indicator of where their faith laid. However, the biggest indicator was their head and hair. Even though they didn’t wear masks like Sadida, the men’s faces were entirely covered by their green manes, regardless of how they were styled, clearly acting as a nod to her father’s aversion to showing his true face.

As they finally arrived right in front of Bonta’s queen—or was it queens?—, Amalia couldn’t wipe the grin off her face at having finally found her people. After weeks of being the only non-Eliatrope or non-dragon on Oma, it was extremely pleasant to find more people like her.

Her gaze flickered back up to the women standing before them when one of them cleared her throat. It was the shortest one.

“Greetings, King Yugo of the Eliatropes and honourable members of the Council of Six. We are immensely honoured by your presence.” Amalia almost flinched when her golden eyes landed on her. “And especially you, Lady Amalia. Your arrival truly is a blessing.”

Not sure what else to do, Amalia simply offered a polite bow of her head. “It is I who is blessed to be here, um…” She trailed off, mortified to realise she had no idea whom she was even addressing.

Luckily for her, the woman simply let out a thunderous cackle. “Wherever are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself.” With a low chuckle, she stood a little bit taller, her head held up high as she spread her arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “I am Queen Astra of Bonta, and by my side is my wife, Queen Selene.” She gestured at the dark-skinned woman.

The woman, Selene, offered a small nod and a smile of her own, “Pleasure to meet you.”

This time, it was Yugo’s turn to speak, “I believe I speak on behalf of not only my siblings, but the entirety of our people when I say we are truly honoured to be welcomed into your land, Your Majesties.” He made a show of looking around. “And to be given the opportunity to officially meet the World of Twelve’s royal families, too.”

“Trust me, King Yugo. No Twelvian in their right mind would ever want to miss such a momentous occasion. As far as I’m concerned, the only ones who aren’t here are the Brakmarians.”

Even though her tone was meant to be affable and kind, there was something under the surface that caused the Eliatropes to tense up. They knew they wouldn’t suddenly be welcomed with open arms just because the other nations now knew about Amalia, so they knew better than to lower their guards in the face of a possible sneak attack. The fact that Brakmar chose not to attend the banquet was a bad sign. Maybe there were Twelvians foolish enough to disrespect one of Sadida’s dolls.

Sensing the rising tension, Queen Selene rushed out to clarify. “Please, don’t misunderstand. The only reason they’re not here is because of Bonta and Brakmar’s ongoing rivalry.” She let out an amused chuckle, though it was hard to tell how much of it was real and how much of it was rehearsed. “Truth be told, had the banquet taken place in Brakmar, Astra and I would have most likely sent Master Joris in our stead.”

Their eyebrows raising slightly at that revelation, both Yugo and Amalia flashed questioning glances Master Joris’ way, who limited himself to confirming his queen’s explanation with a silent nod.

Queen Astra’s imposing voice drew their attention back to her. “But enough of all this pointless chatter, there will be time for that throughout the night. Right now, I’d highly recommend you enjoy yourselves and mingle with the other guests as we wait for dinner to be served. After all, that’s what we’re all gathered here today for.”

“Everyone here is especially interested in hearing more from you, Lady Amalia.” Queen Selene added, a wry smile on her lips. She motioned for them to go. “Let’s not keep them waiting for much longer.”

Thanking and bowing to them one last time, the Eliatrope entourage turned around to make their way to a less crowded area where they could begin strategising on how to best benefit from the night. As they went, everyone gathered went back to their own conversations, almost as if they hadn’t been carefully studying their every move as soon as they stepped into the room.

Eventually, they stopped near a table overflowing with refreshments and appetisers that stood close to the windows leading to the balcony and a little ways off to the centre of the room, where distinguished gentlemen were beginning to take lovely ladies out for a dance after politely asking. As the music coming from the small orchestra began to play, filling the air with uplifting melodies, couples would move to the beat of the music, their coordinated steps creating a magical choreography that left Amalia breathless even as she remained rooted to the spot.

The scene brought forth a strong sense of nostalgia with it. Memories of her father and sisters dancing under the moonlight flooding her senses.

A small voice in the back of her head urged her to ask Yugo to take her dancing, but she quickly dismissed it as a lost cause. He hadn’t even complimented her on how she looked today, there was no way he would ever be willing to dance with her.

At least she could always watch and dream, she sighed wistfully.

Her focus was momentarily broken from the dancefloor by the sight of a wineglass appearing right in front of her. Her eyes followed the arm holding the glass until she was staring back at Yugo.

“It’s only fruit punch.” He assured her, twirling the contents of her glass experimentally. “I figured it’d be wiser since we do not know your alcohol tolerance and it wouldn’t be wise to find out at an event like this one.”

The doll had to suppress the urge to sulk and roll her eyes. Of course, he wasn’t looking out for her, but for his people. He couldn’t afford to have her embarrass him on such an important night. A nod was all the acknowledgement he got before she took the beverage from his hand and took a sip. Well, at least it was sweet enough to taste good.

Yugo couldn’t help the small pit of worry that formed in his stomach at her reaction. Amalia had been acting strange all day. He had honestly expected her to be ecstatic at the idea of leaving the island to attend a party so far away, and yet, her face remained the perfect image of stoicism and indifference throughout. She only allowed for a smile to grace her lips when that little girl handed her the daisy she still wore at the base of her bun.

Truth be told, such little detail went wonderfully with the rest of her outfit. The little flower combined with her traditional Eliatrope clothing made her stand out among him and his siblings—even if she always did just that on her own.

She was a beautiful flower amongst Eliatrope’s children.

But that still didn’t explain her behaviour. He was about to open up his mouth to ask her about it when—

“It is a great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Amalia.” A refined yet smarmy-sounding voice came from in front of them. Yugo didn’t know why, but it made his insides churn. “I must say, you are vastly more beautiful than rumours had me believe.”

Finally, sidestepping other astonished guests who kept murmuring amongst themselves, the origin of the voice revealed itself, causing Yugo to narrow his eyes as he stood a little closer to an unsuspecting Amalia, who could only look on, taken aback. The person who spoke seemed to be a man, and while that would have been the logical conclusion judging solely from his voice, the presence of his broad shoulders and narrow waist confirmed the king’s suspicions.

The feeling of dread that overtook his whole being only intensified the longer he stared at the man. Truth was, whoever this person was, he was peculiar, to say the least. For starters, he was unnecessarily overdressed; with his cyan and light blue jumpsuit, white gloves, and brown snow boots. Draped over his shoulders was a white-furred cape that reached down to his lower back. Judging by his brooch and belt buckle and their obvious relation to time, he had to be a Xelor. And yet, none of that explained the fact that he was wearing winter clothing at a place as warm as Bonta during this time of year. And it certainly didn’t explain why his whole face was encased in ice, two bright, blue round eyes the only thing discernible behind it.

And the way he addressed Amalia… His hold on his own glass tightened. One thing was for certain: he did not like this man one bit.

But before the king could so much as send him packing, Amalia finally found her voice. “Oh, um, the pleasure is all mine, Mister…?”

The masked figure chuckled light-heartedly, bringing a hand to his chest. “Of course, how rude of me. Forgive me, my Lady. I am Count Harebourg, ruler of Frigost.”

Wait, count? Frigost? That didn’t sound like any of the territories where the World of Twelve’s leaders resided, let alone the Xelor royal family—whom, with a quick glance to the side, Yugo found standing all the other way from them and away from Harebourg. Then what was he doing here?

Thankfully, before his twin could do anything rash, it was Adamaï who spoke up. In all honesty, he had almost forgotten he was even there in the first place. “And what brings you all the way here, Your Grace?”

If the dragon’s question bothered him, it was impossible to tell with his mask. And yet, Yugo could hear the smirk in his voice as he answered clear as day, making his skin bristle. “Why, to meet the famed Eliatrope Council everyone has been talking so much about, of course.”

Finally, he leaned forward slightly in a bow, a hand to his chest. But for some reason, the action, polite as it might’ve been, did nothing to endear the guy to Yugo. Things only got worse when he turned his focus back on Amalia, a protective instinct taking over the king as he felt her flinch under the count’s scrutiny. He had to keep himself from scowling.

“Although I would be lying if I said your presence had no sway over my decision, my Lady. After all, it’s not everyday one gets to meet a Divine Doll such as yourself.” Just as Harebourg reached out his hand to grab Amalia’s, he was stopped in his tracks by the Eliatrope King’s voice, a warning laced with his tone.

“I believe we would all feel more at ease if you showed your face, Your Grace. I’m afraid your mask is frightening Amalia.”

“Yugo!” The doll hissed, flustered.

Harebourg himself only let out a low chuckle, his true feelings well-hidden behind his mask. And yet, Yugo could easily make out the tinge of irony in his words. “Says the king who refuses to take his hood off even inside someone else’s home.”

The only thing stopping the Eliatrope from walking right into the Xelor's personal space and pointing a wakfu sword right at his throat, a snarl on his lips, was Adamaï’s steady claw on his shoulders. That, and Amalia's frantic attempts at defusing the situation.

“You…You really don’t have to take off your mask, Count Harebourg. Yugo… um, he didn’t mean to… It’s just…erm…”

However, even as she sputtered on, she flashed the king a brief, warning glare that took him slightly aback and took his words away. She hadn’t looked at him like that since the portal fiasco where she ended up throwing up on a nearby bush. And now she was glaring at him over this guy? Really?

Just, what had got into her?

Unbeknownst to the two of them, the count’s skin prickled at the familiarity in the doll’s voice as she addressed the king. Luckily, he managed to mask his feelings well. Instead, he brought his hands behind his back and puffed his chest out.

“On the contrary, Lady Amalia.” He told her, making her look up at him in surprise. And for a moment, Yugo and Adamaï could only blink in surprise as well, until the Xelor’s next words soured the Eliatrope’s mood further. “While His Majesty could have indeed phrased it better, he is not wrong in pointing out my appearance might be displeasing for you. Please, allow me to rectify that.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Your—.” She trailed off, the words dying in her throat.

No sooner was Count Harebourg done talking than the ice encasing his head was melted by a series of copper valves all around his neck letting out steam. Under the block of ice, the count’s face was hidden by a metal mask with bright, blue glass eyes that, with a mechanical sound, opened up and stored itself away, revealing the count’s true face.

While Amalia’s face grew hot and Adamaï’s jaw dropped, Yugo’s blood ran cold. The feeling only got worse when he heard Nora, of all people, let out an appreciative whistle before saying, “Oh, my…”

“Indeed.” Mina concurred, her tone appreciative. All around them, people whispered, with the women’s input being very much positive.

Much to Yugo’s chagrin, even he had to understand the ladies’ reaction upon the count revealing his true face. The man before them was objectively handsome, with not even the fact that a rather nasty scar on his left eye covered only by a large blue lens taking away from his attractiveness. With his fair skin, squared jaw, icy blue eye and well-trimmed, snow-white hair, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was supposed to be.

The Eliatrope’s heart throbbed painfully at the awestruck look on Amalia’s face as she stared back at Count Harebourg. The cold dread in his veins was only melted off when Frigost’s ruler was faster than him and took the doll’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. Whatever cold he felt before was quickly being replaced by the burning anger encompassing his entire being at the action.

He hadn’t even noticed his clenched hands, tight to the point of turning his knuckles white, were crackling with wakfu until Adamaï made him look at him, his eyes shining with worry. Not finding the strength to answer the question in his brother’s gaze, Yugo simply shoved his claw off his shoulder and focused back on the exchange taking place right in front of him.

“I certainly do hope my true appearance isn’t quite as displeasing as my mask, my Lady.” The count chuckled, his tone light. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it was.”

She didn’t know why, but she actually giggled at his joke, her nose wrinkling adorably as she did so. And it felt like a knife to Yugo’s heart. “Rest assured, Your Grace. I’d be lying if I didn’t say your face isn’t nice to look at.” Just as the words left her mouth, her eyes widened, a furious flush overtaking her features as she registered what she’d just said aloud.

Yugo couldn’t do much but flicker his eyes back and forth between the two of them, his mouth agape. Were they… were they actually flirting? And right in front of him?!

He started at that train of thought, all his other functions shutting down momentarily. What was it to him? Amalia was his friend and his guest and her presence was key in his people’s future, so it was only natural if he grew protective of her, but she was her own person. If she wanted to flirt with some mask-wearing, one-eyed, aristocratic weirdo, it was her choice! And he had to respect it.

That still didn’t mean he didn’t have a right to feel his skin bristle at the hungry look Harebourg was regarding her with. Okay, so it was still her choice, but she was also far too innocent and inexperienced to be truly left to her own devices. He’d better keep an eye out.

Which was another reason why he could hardly contain the smirk from tugging at his lips when Grougaloragran (finally!) intervened.

“One of the queen’s little attendants has just told Grougaloragran dinner will be served shortly and we should start heading to the banquet hall to be directed at our respective seats.” It was then that the black dragon realised he had actually walked in on something. Tilting his head to the side, he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Uh… Is Grougaloragran interrupting anything?”

Before Amalia got a chance to say anything, Yugo beat her to it, his tone far too chipper for it to be genuine. “Nope! In fact, I’d say you’re just in time, Grougal. I’m starving!” He made a show of rubbing his belly to emphasise his point. Not wasting any time, he interlocked arms with the Divine Doll once more and began to all but drag her away in the direction everybody else seemed to be heading towards.

He threw a dismissive wave over his shoulder and the count’s way. “Lovely talking to you, Count Harebourg. See you after dinner.”

That snapped Amalia, who until then had been staring at Yugo as if he’d sprouted a second head, out of her disbelief-induced stupor. She quickly turned to look at the Xelor over her shoulder and sent him her own wave. “It was great meeting you, Your Grace. Hopefully we’ll get to talk some more tonight.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes, my Lady! Hopefully you’ll even save me a dance.” He called out to her, before disappearing amidst the throngs of guests making their way towards the banquet hall.

“Keep dreaming, loverboy.” The Eliatrope king couldn’t help but think spitefully to himself.

By his side, Amalia blinked in surprise at the count’s sudden departure, before her brow hardened into a scowl as she side-eyed her ‘friend’. Just, what was that about? First he told her about how important this night was to him and his people, only to then act like he was just itching to bite the count’s head off like some rabid Bow Wow?

And why? Just because Count Harebourg had been nothing but charming to her even if he was a little weird? Please, it wasn’t like he had any reason to get this mad just because some other guy was paying attention to—.

Her train of thought skidded to a halt, her eyes widening at the realisation. Eyes flickering back and forth between Yugo’s pouting face and the space Count Harebourg had been occupying before vanishing, she couldn’t prevent a little smirk from stretching over her lips.

Maybe it was time for a little payback.

........................................................................................................................

“Okay, what was that?” Chibi whispered to his siblings, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

They were walking a little behind Yugo and Amalia, with enough space between them to be able to talk freely about what they just bore witness to, as long as they weren’t too loud. And by Eliatrope, there were no words to describe what they bore witness to.

“Pretty sure it was our king about to go off on that count.” Qilby clicked his tongue and shook his head ruefully. He leaned closer to Nora. “I told you his vehement denial of his denial was a bad sign.”

The pink-eyed Eliatrope nodded.

“Hopefully Yugo will be too busy interacting with the Twelvian rulers to encounter Count Harebourg again.” Phaeris noted, his arms crossed over his chest even as he had to tuck his wings closer to his body just to make sure he didn’t hit anyone as he walked. “We really can’t afford to have them come to blows.”

“Oh, but perhaps that is precisely what we need.” Mina mused aloud, drawing everyone’s startled gazes to her.

“Are my ears playing tricks on me, or are you actually in favour of our brother nuking it out against the Xelor?” Nora asked, a teasing eyebrow quirked at her sister, who simply chuckled in response, remaining as poised as always.

“I never said anything about Yugo and the count fighting, now, did I?”

And with that, she walked ahead of them, her head held up high as she entered the banquet hall and was shown to her seat, leaving her flabbergasted siblings in her wake.

All of them, but Adamaï, who had a good idea about what his wisest sister might have been talking about instead. And, as he spotted Yugo and Amalia and the stiff atmosphere around them, he had to admit she was probably right once more.

He turned his head to look at Chibi when the latter clasped his hand on his shoulder and brought him closer. “Okay, Ad. Be real with me, because I feel like I’m missing something. Is it me, or is Yugo—?”

“He very much is, Chibi. Even if he doesn’t realise it himself.”

Chibi hummed in thought. “You know, it’s kinda funny. I’m used to seeing Yugo’s eyes glow blue whenever he taps into more wakfu than usual, but I never expected him to be visited by the green-eyed monster.”

Adamaï sighed. “I suppose that makes three of us, Chibi.”

...............................................................................................................

Dinner would have been a far more pleasant experience if it hadn’t been for Yugo’s noticeably darker mood. Not like he wasn’t good at hiding it. Whenever someone held a conversation with him, he was perfectly cordial and polite, to the point it would have been impossible to tell if something was wrong. But Amalia had been on the receiving end of his hollow kindness long enough to be able to see right through him. And a quick look around his siblings was enough to tell her they knew better too.

Luckily, Amalia didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as every time her mind would start to wander, someone would address her. A part of the doll was touched at the Twelvians’ devotion and admiration of their gods, seeing as most of the time she would be asked about that person’s specific patron deity and what they were like. Her answer would always be the same, though; she hadn’t really got to talk much with them, but they were all very kind to her.

Once again, she thanked her father for the fact that none of the Osamodas royals were anywhere near her. She really didn’t know how to say ‘He was polite but very unpleasant and I could tell not even his horns were genuine’ to their faces without sounding rude. At the same time, she also felt extremely awkward when she saw the Sadida Crown Prince was seated alongside the Osamodas princess she saw earlier, which meant the reason behind her Sadida-like dress was that they were at the very least betrothed.

Amalia hadn’t even stepped foot on the Sadida Kingdom and she already feared for her father’s people’s future if an Osamodas was to rule them.

Regardless of her personal feelings on the horned god and his followers, at the end of the feast Queen Astra had declared they were now free to spend the rest of the night however they pleased. And for a bunch of Eliatropes with a mission, that meant fostering closer relationships with the other royals.

More importantly, in spite of the rocky state her and Yugo’s relationship was in, he had gone out of his way to ask her for help, and Amalia was not petty enough to deny him and his people of an opportunity they had long been waiting for. Regardless of how tired she felt. She honestly didn't know how these people did it. It had only been a few hours of interacting with others and she was already exhausted.

As much as it saddened her to admit it, she was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to dance after all out of sheer exhaustion.

She was about to follow after him and his siblings as the Eniripsa Queen asked for their presence when Master Joris appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His sudden appearance caused Yugo to halt and stare at him expectantly.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” he started, his little, black eyes set on the Eliatrope King. “I believe it would be better if Lady Amalia sat this one out.”

Yugo blinked, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

The ambassador raised his hands up placatingly. “I mean no offence, King Yugo. It’s just that there was a time where I was new to this kind of gathering, too.” He looked back at the Sadida Doll, offering her the kindest smile she had ever seen on the little man’s face. “I do not know how you’ve been spending your time on Oma, Your Grace, but I know from experience spending all night talking to dignitaries when you’re not used to it can be quite taxing.”

It was as if Master Joris’ words had forced Amalia to acknowledge for the first time the true depth of her exhaustion. Her feet ached against the cold floor, her cheeks were sore from smiling so much, and even though she had been instilled courtesy from birth, she was beginning to feel like her head would explode if she had to address anybody else as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Honour’, or by any other title one more time.

But she knew what her role was. Her presence was important to the Council, so she couldn’t just call it a night while they represented their people. She couldn’t do that to them.

Which was why she almost gasped in surprise when Yugo said, “If that is what Amalia needs, fine by me.”

“Are-are you sure, Yugo?” She asked, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort despite herself.

No. Yugo wasn’t really sure. On the one hand, because the plan was to keep Amalia close in order to showcase to the Twelvians their own gods approved of their presence on their world and, more importantly, to keep her safe in case this was just a trap to take her away. And on the other hand, because a small part of him spiked up with anxiety at the thought of leaving her alone and for Count Harebourg to find her. He hadn’t been able to move past their brief interaction all evening, the mere memory of it was enough for his expression to cloud over with emotions he himself had trouble deciphering.

But, as always, one look at Amalia was enough for his resolve to crumble like dust. She looked so tired, so vulnerable. She had been doing an astounding job all evening entertaining those who asked for a moment of her time and making sure to emphasise she had grown quite fond of Oma Island and its inhabitants. Moreover, unlike him and his siblings, who had been born to lead and navigate the world of politics and diplomacy, Amalia was a Divine Doll. Even if her true purpose remained undisclosed, Yugo highly doubted such a marvel of nature was meant to spend her time cooped up around a bunch of stubborn Dracoturkeys like monarchs were known for being.

Maybe that was why she’d been so weird all day, because she was so out of her element.

All the more reason to give her some time to relax. She’d more than earned it.

So he told her as such with a nod and a smile. “I’m positive. Go and take a break, Amalia. We’ll take it from here.” Then, he turned to Bonta’s ambassador. “Master Joris, do you think you could look after her?”

But he just shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid I must remain by your side, my King. You see, I’m actually on-duty tonight. But rest assured, I know just what to do.” He pointed at the far side of the room, where an older-looking white Ecaflip and another that was equally old but bald were lounging on a divan, playing cards. “Those are my sons, Kerubim and Atcham, my Lady. Go with them. They’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

Amalia could only look on, flabbergasted, but ultimately chose not to say anything. She really couldn’t explain how someone like Master Joris, who seemed to be in his thirties or his forties at most and was of an indiscernible race could be the father of two old Ecaflips, but then again, she wasn’t one to talk. After all, her father was essentially a mask-wearing, humanoid tree, yet all his daughters were either dolls or utterly beautiful young women.

There was, of course, the fact that he had literally sewn them up himself to be that way, but who was she to judge in the first place?

So with a polite nod as thanks to Master Joris and a grateful smile at Yugo, she turned back to the direction the Bontarian had pointed at and began to make her way between all the guests. Just as she avoided crashing into a laughing Iop, she bumped into somebody else.

“Oh, my Gods, I’m so sorry.” She rushed out to apologise as she touched up her hair in case it got dishevelled due to the impact.

“On the contrary, my Lady. It is I who should be apologising.” Responded a cool and collected feminine voice.

Blinking rapidly to gather her thoughts, Amalia finally allowed herself to pay more attention to the person she collided against. She was a Cra in her twenties, with short platinum hair and vibrant emerald eyes. Just by looking at her the Divine Doll was immediately reminded of her father’s close friend—unlike her people’s matriarch, the woman before her had indeed inherited the Great Huntress’ beauty.

She might have been staring for a little too long, because the Cra politely clearing her throat snapped her out of her daze. “If you will permit me, Your Grace, I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh! Right. Of course.” No sooner did the words leave Amalia’s mouth that the Cra left her side, disappearing amongst the throngs of people with a grace and ease that sent the Divine Doll reeling.

Blinking slowly at the woman’s retreating form just before she vanished, Amalia eventually shrugged at her hurried departure. She was probably there as part of her people’s entourage and had to return to her leader’s side. With wayward thoughts about hopefully catching sight of her later in the evening, Amalia focused back on the mission at hand—joining Master Joris’ Ecaflip sons.

The sound of boisterous laughter and muttered curses after a few more minutes of walking was all the indication she needed to know she had finally arrived.

“I don’t know why I even bother to play with you. You always cheat!” Accused the hairless Ecaflip, a slight lisp in his voice.

“Look who’s talking!” The white-haired Ecaflip shot back, offended. “Need I remind you you used to be a Brakmarian assassin? How’s that for playing dirty?”

“Would you just let it go?! That was like two lives ago!”

“It was our last life and you know it! I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking too forward to dying for real yet, so don’t go taking our nine lives away.”

“You are so dramatic.” He rolled his eyes.

“Says the one who flies off the handle whenever Ush visits…” The other scoffed.

“Don’t say that show-off’s name in my presence!” He hissed. Literally. His hackles rose and he bore his teeth at that.

“Um, excuse me?”

“What!?” Both of them snapped, flashing furious glares at whoever dared to interrupt their bickering. To say they felt like slapping themselves at the sight of the famous Divine Doll their father had been talking about standing right in front of them, flinching at their outburst, would be an understatement.

“I…Is it a bad time? Should I leave you two alone…?” Amalia trailed off, more than ready to get the Heck out of there when the Ecaflip brothers scrambled to stop her.

“No!” The white-haired one exclaimed, before forcing himself to calm down. He tried again, his tone far kinder, almost like a vendor’s. “No, no, no, my dear. It’s quite alright. You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Just some old brotherly bickering.” The hairless one waved the whole thing off, his large ears tucked to his head betraying his uneasiness. “I’m Atcham, and the lucky fleabag over there is my brother Kerubim. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kerubim Crépin,” the aforementioned Ecaflip corrected. “But yes, it’s always a pleasure to meet a creature as lovely as you, my Lady.”

That made her giggle, the smile returning to her lips. It was nice to meet someone friendly for a change. “The pleasure is all mine, my name’s Amalia.”

“We know, little lady. Our father has been telling us all about you ever since he met you.” Atcham said, patting the space on the divan beside him and beckoning her closer. Amalia took the seat offered with a smile, careful with her dress.

“I see. It was him who told me to come with you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, but of course! You have nothing to worry about!” Kerubim assured her, picking up the cards scattered over the table separating him and his brother; he began to shuffle them. “This actually reminds me of my adventuring days.”

“Wait, really? You’re an adventurer?” Amalia leaned forward in her seat, awestruck.

Before Kerubim could get a word in, Atcham corrected, “Was. The most adventurous thing he does now is doing his shop’s inventory and drinking his weight’s worth of bamboo milk.”

His hand coming to rest on top of his necklace—two dice hanging from a rope—, Kerubim grumbled, unamused at his brother’s antics. “Come on, cut me some slack. I’m not getting any younger, you know?”

“I’m only slightly younger than you and I still train every day.” Atcham retorted, not missing a beat.

At that, Kerubim harrumphed in offence, his arms folding over his chest as he stuck up his nose in distaste. “And yet, I could still beat you any day of the week.” He spat petulantly.

That got Atcham’s hackles to rise up again, his tail flicking furiously back and forth. Amalia actually had to duck to the side to avoid getting hit by it. “Only because of that ungodly luck of yours, you nepotism-enjoying fleabag!”

Sensing another argument coming, the Divine Doll chose best to intervene, and fast. But mediating between two arguing siblings was easier said and done. She needed to think of something to say that would distract them from each other. But what?

It was then that she caught sight of a waiter balancing a place with several red-tinted glasses. An idea materialising in her mind at the sight.

“I-I had no idea there were potions that could transport you from one place to another!” She sputtered out, causing both Ecaflips to turn back to her with raised eyebrows at the sudden change of topic. “I can’t even imagine the kind of thing we might have had to do to arrive here if it weren’t for your father sending them to us.”

Exchanging one look, both brothers simply shrugged, reclining back in their divans. The doll fought to urge to sigh in relief. “What can we say? That’s what they’re for.” Kerubim mused.

“Those potions certainly make travelling long distances easier.” Atcham agreed, before turning his focus back on Amalia. “But I’m sure you guys would have found a way to make it even without them. After all, you have your portals!”

Amalia chose not to comment on how she’d rather have her intestines pulled out rather than go through another Eliatrope portal. It was pretty much the same experience, after all.

Instead, she said, “I was wondering, how can you get more? You know, out of curiosity.”

But Kerubim and Atcham only shook their heads at her question, their expression regretful. It was Kerubim who spoke. “I’m afraid that isn’t so simple, my dear. Those things are hard to make and even harder to come by, meaning they can be very expensive. Of course, I always try to offer the best possible price to my customers in my shop, but even I can’t really afford to just hand them over either.”

“Which is a pity,” Atcham went on. “Since going anywhere without them can take anywhere from a few days to months, especially if you don’t have mounts like the Cra soldiers or Osamodas do.”

“I see…” That gave Amalia something to think about. So even after all this time the Twelvians hadn’t been able to figure out a better and more accessible way to travel long distances. She was shaken out of her thoughts by the side of a deck of cards being offered to her.

Looking up, she saw it was Kerubim who held it out for her, a smile on his lips. “Care to play with two old fleabags, my Lady? I must warn you, however; we won’t go easy on you just because you’re a Divine Doll.”

Amalia took the cards with a smile. “I’ve always been curious to find out if what they say about Ecaflips and their luck is true.”

“Oh, in that case you’d better throw in the towel now, my pretty. ‘Cause my brother over here is the luckiest cat on the planet, second only to our father.”

“Your father…?” She raised an eyebrow. Master Joris didn’t strike her as the kind to gamble.

“Ecaflip.” Both of them answered in unison, and if Amalia had been drinking anything, she would have done a spit take.

“Your father is Ecaflip?!” She screeched in disbelief. “But I thought it was Master Joris…”

“And he is,” Atcham nodded. “He’s our adoptive father and the one to raise us this current reincarnation.”

“But the Big Tease Himself sired us,” Kerubim finished for him. After a brief pause, he added, “And twenty more children.”

“But that means…” Amalia trailed off, trying to connect the dots even in her disbelieving state. “But that means you’re demigods like me!”

“Why did you think our dad sent you here with us?” Kerubim winked at her with a smirk on his lips.

Amalia opened her mouth to speak… and promptly closed it again. That actually made sense. However, she had no time to dwell on the implications behind that before a million questions pushed through in her mind.

“And what’s it like?” She blurted out. When her fellow demigods sent her matching questioning glances, she elaborated. “I mean, being an Ecaflip demigod. I… really haven’t met any before now.”

Their faces lighting up in understanding, the brothers exchanged another glance, this time to decide who should speak. With a gesture from Kerubim, it was Atcham who eventually explained:

“It’s not really that different from being a regular Ecaflip, really.” He shrugged before placing down one of his cards as the game went on. He jabbed a finger his hairy brother’s way, “As I said, this one was especially famous in his prime for being extremely lucky, being Ecaflip’s favourite and all… But other than that, we get a watered-down version of our father’s immortality in the form of nine lives or reincarnations, a place inside the Ecaflip dimension, and not much else, really.”

“Wait, your father plays favourites?” Amalia echoed, aghast. Out of everything the hairless cat had shared with her, her brain had locked in on that particular fact, the concept feeling foreign to her.

“You bet.” Atcham nodded, while Kerubim tried to be a bit more diplomatic.

“It’s a very common thing among parents, even if they don’t mean to. Although in my case I believe it has to do with the fact that he actually got to ‘raise’ me and grow attached to me, at least, that’s what dad said. It all happened in a past life, you see. And we don’t get to remember those.” He explained, placing his own card down, causing Atcham to click his tongue in distaste as he saw he had the upper hand. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve experienced something similar with your father, my Lady.”

“What? No, never!” Amalia protested, visibly offended. The mere idea was preposterous. “Father has always been nothing but kind and loving towards every single one of us; he would never play favourites.”

As the Divine Doll focused back on her cards—namely to try not to get too demolished playing against two Ecaflip demigods—, the siblings shared knowing glances. They debated whether to tell her or not, but ultimately chose not to.

What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

..................................................................................................................

It had been less than an hour since Amalia went looking for Master Joris’ sons, and they had already established conversation with at least five different rulers. It was still too soon to determine if they were truly welcoming of their people now or not, but at least bridges were beginning to be built.

The Iops were a boisterous bunch, although Qilby didn’t appreciate how they seemed to have no interest in the overwhelming source of knowledge he provided, or how they insisted on focusing on the seemingly more physically imposing members of their group. Yugo and Adamaï actually had to stop Chibi and Grougal from entertaining their desire for a playful match, knowing their siblings would demolish them. Phaeris had been challenged to a fight too, but he had always been far wiser in choosing his battles.

All in all, they seemed like perfectly amicable people, and the least likely to be scheming anything behind their backs. If only because they lacked the capacity to come up with long-term plots…

If possible, the Pandawas were even more affable. The only thing bigger than their queen’s size was her generosity. Not even five minutes into the conversation and she had already offered to share her people’s bamboo milk with them. It took a lot of convincing and a very diplomatic approach on Yugo and Adamaï’s part to kindly reject her offer; they really couldn’t afford to be intoxicated while trying to foster positive relationships with the World of Twelve’s natives.

The Sufokians were… interesting, to say the least. While they remained unfailingly polite throughout the entire conversation, the empress and his son were particularly standoffish. Their every word seemed to convey a hidden meaning, and the Eliatropes couldn’t tell if they simply didn’t hold them in high regard or if, on the contrary, they didn’t value any other nation beyond their own. It was safe to say at first glance they were the least welcoming of them out of everyone they had talked to tonight.

After talking to the Sram and Enutrof royals—and swearing they weren’t after their kamas to the latter—, Joris redirected them back to Queens Astra and Selene; Bonta’s rulers were seemingly engrossed in their own conversation. When the members of the Council arrived to their side, it was Selene who picked up on their presence.

“Ah, I see you’re making good use of your time by acquainting yourselves with the other world leaders. I trust everything is going smoothly?”

“We could not have asked for more, Your Majesty. We are truly grateful for this opportunity.” Yugo spoke for all of them, the Eliatropes and their dragon siblings bowing politely in unison to show their sincerity.

“We only regret that the Brakmarians weren’t as willing to give us a chance.” Adamaï added, testing the waters. If he played his cards right, he could use both nations’ rivalry to get into Bonta’s good graces.

His plan seemed to work, for a smirk drew itself on Astra’s lips. “It can’t be helped, Brakmar has always done their own thing. Such a backwards nation…” She shook her head regretfully, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Your Majesty, what do you mean by that?” Nora asked, intrigued.

“Brakmar’s way of doing things clashes immensely with Bonta’s, and not just because both nations were founded by opposing forces.” Selene explained, although she didn’t elaborate on that last nugget of information. “For instance, Brakmar doesn’t allow women to even attend a gobbowl match, let alone play on their team!”

“It is simply barbaric.” Astra agreed with a scoff.

“Please, forgive my ignorance, my Queens, but what is gobbowl?” Yugo inquired, genuinely curious. Though he was mostly trying to distract the Bontarians from noticing Phaeris and Mina restraining a fuming Nora from going to Brakmar and giving their rulers a piece of her equal-opportunity-opinionated mind.

“Oh, that’s true. You haven’t been here long enough to learn about it.” Astra said.

The attending members of the Council of Six collectively chose not to point out that the Twelvians hadn't really allowed them to know more about their culture until less than a week ago. Instead, they focused their attention on Joris as he went on to explain.

“Gobbowl is the World of Twelve’s most popular sport, played all over the planet, regardless of the nation.” He explained with the same stoicism so characteristic of him. “However, out of all the nations, no one can match Bonta and Brakmar’s love for it.”

“Although, in Brakmar’s case, it’s more fanaticism than love.” Selene pointed out with a sneer. “They hold it in such high regard they even allow their team’s best player to make decisive calls during trials. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe their authority surpasses that of the Prince of Brakmar himself!”

“There’s a match tomorrow, if you’re interested, you can experience it for yourselves. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourselves immensely.” Astra offered, and that was the most genuine she’d sounded all evening.

“Thank you kindly, Your Majesty. We’ll think about it.” Yugo replied. “But I believe we should focus first on our diplomatic mission.”

The queens nodded, with Astra motioning for them to follow her. “Of course. There’s actually someone I believe you should meet.” She told them right before leading them somewhere else in the ballroom.

Yugo immediately understood everything as soon as the monarch stopped, gesturing at the people staring back at them expectantly. “King Yugo, esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council, allow me to introduce you to the Sadida King and Crown Prince; King Oakheart and Prince Armand Sheran Sharm.”

Yugo’s first thought upon finally coming face to face with the representatives of the nature god responsible for the curious little doll living with them had to be that, if Amalia was indiscernible from a regular Sadida woman, then the men got the short end of the stick in the beauty department.

No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t like male Sadida were ugly per se, it was that it was impossible to tell what they were. Period. The way their hair completely covered their faces did not help matters. Even so, the fact that he couldn’t see their faces didn’t mean he couldn’t sense their aura.

Even without his wakfu vision, the Eliatrope could feel the sheer power and resilience radiating off their royal family. Just the sight of them was enough for him to fully believe their patron god had played a key role in creating the world they all now lived in.

Out of the father and son duo, Prince Armand was the most conventionally attractive, even if he wasn’t exempt from his dreadlocked bangs hiding his face from view. What little the Eliatrope King could see of his face, he seemed to possess a squared, chiselled jaw that went alongside his cultivated physique. The fact that he essentially paraded said physique for all to see also helped bring attention to his sculpted body.

Judging by the way all Sadida present dressed, that is to say, scarcely so, it was clear to see Amalia’s fondness for showing some skin—and going barefoot—was a cultural thing. It was even more shocking to realise Amalia’s fashion choices were actually quite modest in comparison. In fact, Yugo didn’t know what to do with himself at that revelation. His poor heart certainly wouldn’t be able to take it.

If Prince Armand was tall, around Yugo’s own height, that was nothing compared to his father. King Oakheart seemed to be even slightly taller than Adamaï, horns included. He wasn’t as conventionally attractive as his son, with his girth being considerably greater to go along with his height, and his (facial?) hair was far more dishevelled than his son’s well-trimmed do, but his eyes still radiated the kind of wisdom and strength only a true leader could possess.

Yugo was sure he’d been alive far longer than any other person in this ballroom, and he still could only hope to one day transmit the same energy as the Sadida King did with just his gaze.

However, regardless of the respect they were due because of their position, more importantly, they were Amalia’s people. If there was someone whose good graces they needed to be in, that was them.

Which was why Yugo actually went down on one knee as he greeted them, his siblings following suit shortly after. “It is an immense honour to make your acquaintance, oh, powerful Sadida.”

“It is good to finally meet under better circumstances.” Armand commented, and Yugo could feel a chill running down his spine at the tone he used. Surely he couldn’t be talking about…

“It’s all fallen leaves, now, Armand.” The king lightly chided his son, his eyes glinting in warning. His expression turned kinder as he settled his eyes back on the Eliatropes. “Please, forgive my son, King Yugo. As you know, a king can never be too cautious, although his distrusting nature can have its own undesirable consequences.”

Privately, Yugo couldn’t help but think Prince Armand and Efrim actually had a lot in common.

“There is nothing to forgive, for you speak the truth.” Yugo said as he rose from his bowed down position, choosing to remain cordial. “But I must agree with the prince, it is great to finally be able to interact under much better circumstances.”

King Oakheart tossed his head back and let out a thunderous laugh. “Indeed, indeed. And what better circumstances than getting to meet Sadida’s eleventh doll? Her birth alone is a momentous occasion for our people.”

“I can only imagine, my King.” Yugo nodded.

Armand made a show of looking around. “And where is this famed eleventh Divine Doll? I expected her to be a part of your entourage.”

“Armand…” His father warned him, far too familiar with his son’s abrasive and distrusting nature.

But Yugo just let it all wash over him, his smile unfaltering. “Seeing as she is not used to such gatherings, Amalia seemed exhausted. So, as per Master Joris’ suggestion, I told her to rest a little alongside his sons.”

When father and son looked down at the ambassador for confirmation, their worries were put to rest by the nod of his head.

“How gracious of you, King Yugo.” Armand said kindly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the slight sarcasm that dripped from his words. “It’s such a relief to see you take such good care of your bride.”

Just like it did every time any other leader mentioned the same thing, hearing the word ‘bride’ was enough for Yugo to flinch uncomfortably, an action he tried to cover up by clearing his throat. It also caused his siblings to discreetly roll their eyes at how obvious he was being. “While I thank you for your kind words, Prince Armand, it’s hardly anything to write home about. After all, being mindful of how someone’s feeling is just basic decency.”

“Indeed.” The Sadida prince concurred.

“However, there is a correction I wish to make.”

That got their attention. After exchanging a look with his son, King Oakheart urged him to continue. “Do tell.”

Much like he’d done every time this same conversation took place, Yugo took a deep breath through his nose and prayed his mother would have mercy on him. While admitting to this was meant precisely to avoid future conflicts with the Twelvians, admitting it at all could also lead to trouble. For now, they could only hope for the best.

“The thing is…” He started, hoping beyond hope the Sadidas wouldn’t take this as a declaration of war or something of the sort. “While Amalia was certainly sent to us for the purpose of becoming my bride, I must admit that is not the case. There is nothing between us beyond a close friendship.”

“Is that so?” The king raised an eyebrow, but because he could get another word in, the Eliatrope rushed in to clarify.

“Do not misunderstand, please. My people and I are extremely grateful to have been blessed with such an honour as it is to have been sent a Divine Doll, it is simply that I—our people aren’t in need of a queen, and I would hate for Amalia to feel trapped fulfilling a role that cannot guarantee her happiness.

“Rest assured, however, we are doing everything in our power to ensure she feels welcomed and at home at all times.” He did not need to turn around to sense his siblings sending Nora meaningful glances, their younger sister dutifully keeping her mouth shut for once. Mina in particular had a hand over her shoulder in warning.

The Sadida royals could only blink in surprise at that, not sure what else to say. Finally, after an awkward pause, the king cleared his throat as he straightened himself up, Prince Armand mimicking his actions.

“That is… quite alright, King Yugo.” Oakheart said, not sure where to even begin. “As my son will be able to tell you, we know how challenging it can be to make someone that’s not from the same culture as you feel welcome alongside your own.”

For once, Armand seemed to agree. “Indeed. My wife, Aurora, is an Osamodas princess. It certainly took a while for us to find more common ground once we got married. It certainly helped when she developed a fondness for our haute couture.” He revealed with unmistakable fondness in his voice.

Yugo almost shuddered upon realising the emotionless Osamodas woman with the bangs covering half her face was the prince’s consort. Was it too bad to hope she wasn’t around whenever he had to interact with her in-laws?

“Nevertheless,” King Oakheart’s hearty voice broke him out of his musings. “We certainly hope you eventually get to introduce Lady Amalia to us. Her existence truly is a blessing for our people.”

Sharing knowing looks with Adamaï, Yugo allowed a genuine smile to grace his features.

“Of course. I’m sure she’ll love that.”

....................................................................................................................

Amalia was having a blast with Kerubim and Atcham. Granted, she hadn't won a single game, but getting to witness the two siblings bickering over the pettiest things was unendingly entertaining. She might have lost every single round, but she’d been laughing heartily almost the entire time she spent with them.

“I’m telling you, she kissed me as thanks for helping her!” Kerubim insisted for the fortieth time since the conversation began.

Atcham simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

The white-haired Ecaflip pouted. “Why don’t you ever believe me about this sort of thing?”

“Because there’s no reason why a young, beautiful lady like the one you’re describing would ever kiss an old fleabag like yourself, gratitude be darned!” He slammed his cards hard against the table, tired of always hearing the same old song and dance. “If you told me this all happened back when you were still young, maybe I would believe you, but at your age?” He let out a loud, sarcastic cackle before turning his focus back on his cards. “Keep dreaming.”

“It’s still more believable than you losing to Ush because he keeps attacking you whenever you’re distracted…” Kerubim grumbled to himself. When he realised what he’d just said, though, it was already too late.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to utter that black cat’s name in my presence?!” The hairless Ecaflip bellowed. Even from where Amalia was sitting, it looked as if the vein in his forehead was about to pop.

As Atcham threw himself at his brother and the two of them began to roughhouse, Amalia, who had long given up on playing against them, simply leaned back on the divan, an eyebrow raised. Already used to the old Ecaflips’ childish shenanigans, she remained unflappable as they fought. But she was curious as to what they even argued about.

“Who’s Ush?” She asked, causing the brothers to halt mid-fight.

Knowing better than to be rude to a lady, the two of them broke away from each other’s hold and dusted themselves off. With a clearing of his throat, it was Kerubim who explained. “Ush Galesh is another one of Ecaflip’s demigod sons, my dear.”

“Oh, so he’s your brother?”

Atcham scoffed at the mere thought. “In name only. Not only is he from another litter, but he’s got the emotional maturity of a teenager. And the arrogance to match.”

While the doll blinked, not sure what to make of it all, Kerubim elaborated on, “Remember what we told you about our father playing favourites, my dear?” Amalia nodded. “Well, Ush never really took not being his favourite well. Even if he claims to hate our father, it’s plain to see he’s just resentful and envious because he doesn’t hold that place in his heart.

“Now, if there’s one thing Atcham is right about is the fact that Ush never really matured. He takes his anger out on anyone who crosses him and, rather than rely on his natural luck and skill as an Ecaflip, he always makes sure to have the upper-hand whenever he faces an opponent.”

“The upper-hand…?” Amalia tilted her head in confusion.

“He cheats. At everything.” Atcham told her bluntly. Then, he sent his brother a pointed look, as if daring him to contradict him, “Including our fights.”

Kerubim chose to keep his mouth shut for once.

“I see...” Amalia eventually spoke up, rubbing her arm uneasily. “Then it’s no wonder you don’t like hearing about him.”

Kerubim just shrugged. “It is what it is, my dear. Not all siblings will get along just because they’re blood related. Sometimes families are torn apart by internal factors and everyone is much happier on their own.”

That gave Amalia pause, her expression dimming. Truth be told, she hadn’t quite got over what they said about parents playing favourites, or how that applied even to her father. Would that happen to her family? Was it possible that Sadida played favourites or treated some of his daughters better than the rest and that might cause them to drift apart?

She was his youngest daughter and his masterpiece, according to the Leafy God Himself. Did that make her one of his favourites or…?

Sensing they put the very Divine Doll they were supposed to be looking after on edge, Kerubim and Atcham exchanged panicked glances. What would people think if they found out they made a Sadida Doll cry? They would be branded as worse than some of the most despicable criminals to roam the face of the planet!

People would stop coming to the shop!

As they were running out of ideas on how to cheer Amalia up, Kerubim blurted out, “Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

That seemed to do the trick, for Amalia’s head snapped up at them and she regarded them curiously. “What?”

“Would you like something to drink?” He repeated, making good use of his vendor’s voice. “It’s been a long night. I’m sure you could use something to quench your thirst.”

Now that he mentioned it, Amalia was feeling quite parched. Something to drink should do her some good. “I actually rather enjoyed some very nice fruit punch from the food table right before we were summoned to dinner. Do you think you could get me a glass of that?” She asked them politely with a smile.

“One glass of fruit punch coming right up!” Both siblings immediately sprang into action, giving her military salutes before turning around and heading over to the refreshments table.

As Amalia watched them go, amused, she almost jumped right out of her skin when a suave voice whispered in her ear, “I thought they’d never leave.”

Whirling around in surprise, her eyes widened in shock at the person standing before her.

“Count Harebourg.” She gasped.

“Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, a grin on his face. “I was wondering if you would be interested in granting me that dance?”

Amalia actually hesitated. While it was true she longed to go to the dancefloor and that she had been pleasantly surprised by how the count truly looked, she couldn’t quite get over the feeling she got around him. More specifically, the feeling that emanated from Yugo.

Even though she came to understand the king’s uncharacteristically hostile behaviour came from the fact that the Xelor was paying attention to her, she still didn’t understand what caused it exactly. After all, her main purpose for tonight was to have people paying attention to her, and he hadn’t been anywhere near as angry when others interacted with her throughout the evening. So why did he act like that around Count Harebourg?

There was also the fact that the count himself emanated a dangerous kind of energy. She didn’t know why, but despite Harebourg’s sweet words and kind compliments, the doll couldn’t bring herself to be truly comfortable around him.

She was about to turn him down when her eyes instinctively searched for Yugo, worried about his reaction. What she saw instead made her grit her teeth in distaste.

Standing all the way from over the other side of the room, yet drawing her eye like a beacon of light inside a dark space, was the Eliatrope King. And he wasn’t alone. Beside him was the Eniripsa Queen, quite the buxom beauty who kept inspecting the muscles and tattoos on his exposed arms with keen interest. And all Yugo could do in response was flush furiously and sheepishly while making no attempt at wriggling himself free from her grasp.

Amalia’s irritation flared at the scene. So there she was, worrying about his feelings over seeing her with the count while he let whoever roam their hands all over his body. But again, what else was new? Just like she’d been trying to reach out to him and grow closer, he had been doing everything in his power to avoid her. He only started treating him decently now because he needed her.

Fine, if that was how it was going to be, she would help him get in Frigost’s good graces.

Putting on her most charming smile, she took Count Harebourg’s offered hand. “It will be my pleasure to dance with you, Your Grace.”

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” The count smiled back, a predatory glint in his eye that went unnoticed by Amalia.

.....................................................................................................................

Adamaï could only blink on, unamused, as his brother let himself be inspected by the Eniripsa Queen, choosing that moment to excuse himself to get some drinks. He understood they were on a mission to foster better relationships between their people and the Twelvians, but surely, there had to be a line somewhere. Just with a quick glance at the fairy’s aura it was easy to tell she had no real interest in his brother beyond a medical one, but given how shy and easily-flustered around women Yugo could get, Adamaï was half-expecting him to self-combust anytime soon.

Having said that, this was nothing compared to the way their king’s brain would draw a blank whenever it came to the pretty flower they harboured.

That evening, the dragon had to resist the urge to roll his eyes to the back of his skull in exasperation when his twin caught sight of the Divine Doll looking all dolled-up—pun not-intended. He was starting to become intimately familiar with the way Yugo’s breath hitched at the sight of her, the small, almost imperceptible gasp that would leave his mouth each time Amalia donned a different outfit than the one they were used to seeing her with.

As expected, the moment Yugo went through his portal and landed by her side, he had the exact same reaction. His eyes widened as they travelled up and down every little detail of her body, from her shawl to her skirt, drinking her in. His fingers clearly twitched at the idea of reaching out with his hand and caressing her loose, forest-green hair. And his cheeks were dusted in pink the longer he stared at her.

How Amalia hadn’t noticed all that was beyond him.

He was so head over heels for his precious flower it was almost laughable. Except for two key factors: on the one hand, Yugo refused to admit, even to himself, that he felt anything for Amalia rather than a close friendship; and, on the other hand, in his denial and for reasons Adamaï himself didn’t fully understand for once, he insisted on keeping her as far away as possible.

And whether his twin realised it or not, that alone was pushing Amalia away.

If he didn’t put a stop to whatever hesitation he was feeling at the moment, and soon, he would lose her forever, regardless of what she could have done for their people.

Just as he returned, two glasses in hand, the Eniripsa Queen seemed to have grown bored with her inspection of the king’s physique and moved on to Nora. Given the queen’s analytical mind, it was plain to see she was far more interested in seeing the anatomical differences between male and female Eliatropes, but seeing as his younger sister was never one to turn down an offer to have a gorgeous woman near, Nora looked as pleased as punch.

The same could not be said for Yugo, who was hunched forward with his hands resting on his knees, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Adamaï almost snorted at the sight. It didn’t matter if his twin was twenty or several hundred years old; he did not know how to deal with women.

Not for the first time, Adamaï thanked their mother Amalia seemed completely unaware of the power she held over him. Otherwise, they’d be doomed.

As he tried to regain his breath, having forgotten how to breathe when the Eniripsa Queen began to fondle his biceps, Yugo saw the glass offered to him from the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw Adamaï looking down at him with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Thirsty?” The dragon asked, shaking the glass in front of him to get his attention.

Rolling his eyes at the ill-concealed double entendre, Yugo took the drink and took a greedy gulp. “Thank you.”

Adamaï shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” He flashed his brother a crooked smile that sent a shiver down his spine. “It must be nice being so popular.”

Yugo pouted. “Shut up. You know it’s not like that.”

“Of course, I know. But just because I know it doesn’t mean others won’t take your insistence on Amalia not being your bride as an open invitation to send wedding proposals to you.”

Yugo almost choked on his drink. “What? No! Of course not!” He insisted, offended. “Can you imagine the uproar that would cause? I can already hear the gossip: ‘The Eliatrope King turns down a Sadida Doll to marry one of our royals instead. How scandalous!’,” he mocked in an overly nasally voice. Then, he scoffed. “Please, as if I would jeopardise our kingdom’s well-being by offending the Twelvians because I disrespected a Divine Doll sent specifically for me…”

Adamaï raised an eyebrow at that, knowing that wasn’t exactly the reason why he wouldn’t choose anyone over Amalia. But he chose not to comment on it. Yugo wasn’t willing to be honest with his feelings, not even to himself, and trying to force someone as stubborn as him to see reason was like pulling teeth.

A real pain.

“And what about fostering better relationships by letting Amalia marry somebody else?”

Again, Yugo almost did a spit take at his twin's words. Whirling himself to face the dragon so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash, he asked, his voice strangled. “What?”

Shaking his head, Adamaï sighed. “Nothing, forget I said anything.”

Narrowing his eyes on his brother, suspicious, Yugo eventually chose to let it go… Only for him to start yet again when Adamaï said, “I’m just saying, if you insist on explaining to everyone that Amalia isn’t your bride, yet you stand around her like a guard dog whenever someone else seems taken by her, you might end up sending mixed messages.”

“‘Mixed messages’?” He repeated, incredulous. “What are you talking about, Ad?”

But Ad limited himself to sending him a pointed look. And yet, that was enough for Yugo to understand what he meant immediately.

Oh. That.

That didn’t mean he was willing to admit to anything. Sulking, he faced forwards, refusing to meet the dragon in the eye, and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If it weren’t so frustrating, Adamaï would have actually laughed. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? You’re going to pretend your powers weren’t about to go haywire at the sight of Count Harebourg flirting with Amalia?”

“Hate to break it to you, Big Brother,” Nora’s sarcastic voice said practically out of nowhere. Apparently, the Eniripsa Queen had got what she’d been looking for already, leaving her free. “But green looks much better on Amalia than on you.”

Yugo frowned, knowing he was going to regret even asking, “What does that even mean?”

“Jealousy.” Qilby oh-so-helpfully supplied, appearing out of nowhere alongside the rest of his siblings. “You were seething with jealousy because your precious flower was no longer paying attention solely to yourself.”

“It’s normal to feel threatened when you stop being the hottest guy in the room. I would know.” Chibi teased, bringing a hand to his chest in mock solidarity.

Their king actually flushed at that. “That has nothing to do with anything!”

“Then what is the problem?” Mina challenged, an eyebrow raised. The calm in her voice underlaid the fact that her question was merely a formality, for she already knew the answer. She’d known long before Yugo, who still refused to open his eyes to the obvious. “If you’re not bothered by Count Harebourg’s interest in Amalia, then why did you react so strongly to it?”

Pursing his lips in thought, Yugo stubbornly chose to avert his gaze, letting out a sigh through his nose as he took another sip of his drink. “It’s not what you think.”

Because it simply couldn’t be what they all thought. He wasn’t jealous of Count Harebourg! Jealousy implied he feared he would lose Amalia to that half-blind Xelor. But that was ridiculous! The only way he could ever fear losing Amalia to another would be if he had feelings for her, and that wasn’t it.

As fond as he was of Amalia, it was purely platonic. He was only protective of her because, despite her appearance, she was so young and naïve to the world around her. Her child-like wonder and innocence left her vulnerable to being manipulated for someone’s own selfish gain.

He could’ve laughed at the thought. In a way, their situations were the opposite of each other: whereas Amalia was built to be a woman yet retained a delightfully young personality, Yugo had spent decades trapped in a child’s body despite his adult mind. And yet, the two suffered the same predicament—regardless of what they did to prove themselves, nobody ever took them seriously.

As a result, Yugo would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a strong kinship with the Divine Doll. Their similar interests and circumstances—including but not limited to their origins, which were extraordinary even by divine standards—made it all incredibly easy to grow close to her. But there were lines he shouldn’t cross. For both their sakes.

Falling in love with her was one of such lines he would not dare cross.

He was rudely reminded of that fact that day on the beach, and he hadn’t allowed himself to forget about it ever since.

Explaining what love was to Amalia and remembering why she had been sent to him in the first place was a sobering reminder of why he couldn’t afford to let his guard down and fall for her. Doing so didn’t just mean potentially falling for whatever trap the gods had set for his people, but it also meant robbing Amalia of her chance to experience love for herself.

If she truly became his bride, then she would be chained to him for as long as he lived. And the fact that she had been made precisely for that meant she would never be able to aspire for more. Whatever love she believed she felt for him would be a lie, and she didn’t deserve to think whatever one-sided thing there would be between them was love.

She might be a Divine Doll, but she wasn’t an object.

Which, apparently, nobody else seemed to be aware of. Wherever he looked, he saw people determined to worm their way into her life and gain her trust so they could eventually use her to further their goals. Inside these walls, Amalia wasn’t her own person, she wasn’t even a Divine Doll worthy of respect and admiration; she was the perfect political tool.

And everyone was frothing at the mouth at the mere thought of getting their hands on her.

And Yugo just knew Count Harebourg was the worst out of them. His intentions towards Amalia were downright sinister, no charming façade or well-constructed mask would be able to hide that.

Unbeknownst to him, his hold on his glass became a little bit tighter.

Just as Yugo got lost in his own thoughts, his siblings shared worried glances. More importantly, they were frustrated. Not just because Yugo was making things unnecessarily difficult for himself—they’d known him long enough to know that was just a staple of him—, but because they couldn’t do much to help. As close as they all were, Yugo had always liked dealing with his issues alone, sometimes not even Adamaï had access to his innermost worries and desires. The most they could do was to try and talk to him and hope something they said stuck with him long enough for him to see the error of his ways.

It was clear his feelings for Amalia would be no different.

Waiting for their king to snap out of his trance on his own, Grougaloragran let his gaze sweep around the room, bored with the lack of action. For a moment, his eyes landed on the dancefloor and the couples moving to the beat of the music but, growing disinterested even as he saw Amalia in Count Harebourg’s arms, swaying to the music, he focused on somewhere else.

…until what he’d just borne witness to registered in his mind and he was forced to do a double take.

Oh, Yugo was not going to like this.

“Uh, Yugo?” He called out to his king over his shoulder. “Grougaloragran believes you should take a look at this.”

Letting out a sigh, Yugo began, “What is it, Grougal—?”

Only to be immediately cut off by what he saw.

As his eyes followed Amalia and Harebourg as they danced, his blood reached the boiling temperature. A loud crack! echoed throughout the room as whatever remained of his drink splashed against the floor, the shattered pieces of glass falling from his hand.

...................................................................................................................

“I must admit I didn’t expect you to be such a talented dancer, my Lady.” Count Harebourg mused aloud. “Have you ever danced before?”

“You seem to be forgetting my father is known precisely for dancing on the ridges once spring arrives, Your Grace. It is only natural that his own daughters would follow in his footsteps.” Amalia smirked.

The Xelor chuckled. “How shameful of me. I hope you can forgive me, Lady Amalia.” He told her jokingly.

Amalia pretended to think about it. “Well, I suppose I can be merciful just this once.” She giggled.

“You have my thanks.” Count Harebourg smirked back at her.

Amalia had to admit, this wasn’t so bad. Sure, a part of her would’ve still preferred to dance with Yugo, but the count acted like the perfect gentleman the whole time. She was finally having some fun of her own, and Count Harebourg always made sure to make her feel comfortable and beautiful, constantly showering her with compliments and words of praise. She didn’t understand how she’d come to doubt him before.

She wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night with someone who actually seemed to care about her.

“Do you know that we actually have something in common, my Lady?”

Amalia hummed absentmindedly, asking him to elaborate on that.

“I’m actually a demigod myself.” The count explained, and Amalia almost had to do a double take at that.

Her brown eyes wide, she asked, “You are?”

It was the count’s turn to hum. “That’s right. Xelor is my father.” He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “I suppose that much was to be expected, given my race.”

“Oh.” For a while that was all Amalia could say, her brain scrambling to catch up with the conversation. Finally, she weakly offered. “Um, I remember meeting him in Inglorium. Right before I was sent here…”

“Oh? And, do tell, what was he like?”

A strained smile stretched over the doll’s lips. What was she supposed to say?! She had barely talked to the guy for, what, five minutes? That was hardly enough time to form an educated opinion on someone’s true character. Especially when all you could focus on as you talked to them was the fact that their eyes and mouth were on their torso and how disturbing that whole imagery was.

“He has his mouth and eyes on his torso. That’s creepy.” Her eyes widened in alarm when she realised she actually said that aloud.

She felt a little bit better when she heard him laugh, loud and unrestrained. He had a nice laugh. The feeling didn’t last long, being replaced shortly after by anxiousness taking hold of her heart at what he said next.

“That’s actually the nicest thing that comes to mind whenever I think about him.” Count Harebourg admitted, taking his hand off her waist to wipe a tear off his eye.

“Really?” Amalia found herself asking. Her heartbeat skyrocketed when the white-haired man’s face morphed into a much more sombre expression.

He remained quiet for a second, pensive, and then, with the same tone of voice one would use to share a secret, he told her:

“Lady Amalia, the truth is I hate my father.”

.....................................................................................................................

To say Yugo was livid would be an understatement. His left eye hadn’t stopped twitching since he caught sight of Count Harebourg with his hands all over Amalia. He had half the mind not to open a portal right beside him and shoot a wakfu beam at the space between them as his first, and only, warning.

The half of his mind who held him back from inflicting bodily harm on that pompous, one-eyed Xelor was called Adamaï, and he was very busy trying to keep up with his Eliatrope twin while the latter was on the verge of suffering a conniption.

“Look at him, flirting so shamelessly with someone else's bride. Can you believe it!?” Yugo all but screeched, gesturing wildly at the two as they danced.

It took every ounce of the dragon’s strength not to roll his eyes in exasperation. “Um, didn't you just spend about half an hour going around and explaining that, while we're truly honoured to take Amalia in, she is not your bride?”

“Yes, but I didn't explain it to him!” Yugo shot back, irate.

“Of course you didn’t.” Adamaï couldn’t help but to think to himself. Aloud, he said, “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

“I can’t just do that!”

“Right, because doing so would be essentially admitting that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not—!” Yugo began, raising his voice. At least, until he noticed the curious eyes staring back at him for his outburst, which caused him to force himself to lower his voice, almost to a whisper. “I’m not jealous.”

This time, Adamaï did roll his eyes in annoyance, but his twin ignored him.

Yugo was having a really hard time standing still. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to march over there, grab Count Harebourg by the shoulder, maybe punch him in the face for good measure, and bring Amalia back to them. But, on the other hand, doing so could result in a number of consequences he’d do best to avoid.

Firstly, much to his chagrin, Count Harebourg was an important figure in the World of Twelve, being the ruler of Frigost and all. Secondly, he really didn’t want to cultivate the image of a violent, ill-tempered king who went around punching people he didn’t like. There was no point in trying to be diplomatic this whole time if he then acted anything but. And finally, there was Amalia herself.

Even if every fibre of his being was telling him to go get her, he still had no right to interfere. Regardless of her nature, she was not an object and she wasn’t a child, she could make her own decisions. He couldn’t just intervene in her business, especially when they were nothing to each other, at least not romantically.

As he brought a hand to his chest in an attempt to alleviate the painful pang that resounded in his ribcage at that particular train of thought, he almost didn’t hear Adamaï when he said, “Seriously, if it bothers you so much, you could always talk things out with Count Harebourg. After all, technically speaking, you’re higher up in the pecking order.”

Under no circumstances, shape or form did the two of them let out high-pitched screams at the sudden sound of Master Joris’ voice coming from behind them.

“If I were you, I’d be careful around Count Harebourg, Your Majesty.” Master Joris’ warning rang ominously, his black eyes narrowed into slits. Once he’d recovered from the fright, his words registering in his mind, Yugo couldn't help but scoff.

“You can just call me Yugo, Master Joris. After all, you already trespassed our territory uninvited. What's the point in formality?”

Unbeknownst to him, Joris squinted his eyes at him, intrigued by the new edge in the king’s voice. One that, interestingly enough, hadn't been there when he indeed presented himself at his palace, uninvited. Though glancing back at the dancing couple, he had a pretty good guess as to why that was.

“Anyway, why do you say that? Do you know the count?”

Joris nodded. Honestly, he wished he didn't. “Count Harebourg is an old enemy of mine.”

Yugo and Adamaï’s eyes widened at such revelation, taken aback. “Aren't you an esteemed member of Bonta’s court?” Another nod. “Then why would the queen invite one of your enemies to a banquet you will be attending?”

“Because, regardless of his actions, Count Harebourg is still the ruler of Frigost.” His eyes flickered back to Yugo, the way his jaw clenched a clear indication of how serious he was. “The count’s greatest priority is his people, first and foremost. Anything else is superfluous.”

“Isn't that a quality a good leader should have?” Adamaï asked, not following.

“Indeed, all good leaders should worry about their subjects’ well-being.” Joris agreed, but it was short-lived. “However, never to the extent of being willing to sacrifice another nation for their sake. Trust me, Your Majesty, Master Adamaï, Count Harebourg is not above using others to achieve his goals. And I fear someone like Lady Amalia is ripe with opportunity.”

“You think he has ulterior motives for trying to get close to Amalia?”

“All I’m saying is it would be unwise to underestimate him.” Joris insisted, but his answer was already all Yugo needed to know where Harebourg stood.

For the first time since he first met the man a scarce few hours ago, Yugo felt something other than irritation—genuine fear for Amalia's sake. “Is he truly that dangerous?” He asked, his voice uncharacteristically small.

Joris’ expression turned grave. “Let's just say you aren't the only demigods attending, my King.”

The twins exchanged alarmed glances, knowing how dangerous a demigod Xelor could be. Adamaï in particular grew irritated.

“Didn’t you send Amalia to your sons precisely to keep her safe?” He demanded to know.

“And I will have a talk with them about it, Master Adamaï. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Count Harebourg had most likely been waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.”

Yugo’s heartbeat resounded in his ears, panic taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tightly. He had to clench his fists until his knuckles turned white to keep himself grounded, to prevent himself from creating a string of portals that would lead him directly to Amalia and allow him to hold her close while he took care of that forsaken count.

He couldn’t act on his instincts, he had to be diplomatic about it. It’d be best if they waited until the music died down to go look for her. That was the right choice, the kind of choice a king should make. He was doing the right thing, for himself and his people.

Then why was it physically painful?

Mina’s voice by his side was both a balm to his fears and a fan to the flames. He must have been so out of it he didn’t even register when she slid up next to him.

“I know you’re trying to do the right thing, Yugo.” She told him, her voice kind. How was she so good at seeing right through him? “And the right thing is making sure Amalia is alright.”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes unblinking. Mina limited herself to pointing at the dancefloor, where the doll and the count were standing in plain sight. “Whatever it is the count’s trying to do, it’s not a simple dance anymore.”

Terror taking over him at the implications behind her words, Yugo snapped his head back to the direction she was pointing at. A powerful thud! resounded in his ribcage at the image before him, his protective senses flaring alongside a sense of rightful fury. Even from where he stood, he could see Amalia, her eyes wide and frantic as a frightened expression clouded over her features. Holding her with a vice-tight grip was Count Harebourg, the look on his face was downright nightmarish. And yet, the most terrifying thing of all had to be the very real possibility that the Xelor might hurt her.

Under Adamaï’s worried eyes, the ears in his hood twitched; that was never a good sign. His fears were confirmed shortly after.

Before the dragon could so much as blink, Yugo had already jumped inside a portal, a bright blue trail following behind him as he moved from one portal to the next, headed straight towards the dancefloor.

Towards Amalia.

Their siblings, who had watched the whole exchange, all sent pointed glances at Nora. Except for Phaeris, who just raised an eyebrow at his sister’s methods. And people said he could be a tad extreme.

“Aren't you supposed to be the mediator? You know, the one who solves conflicts?” Chibi questioned her, incredulous.

But Mina didn’t even flinch at his outburst, her smile remained exactly where it was.

“Sometimes the best way to solve an argument is by causing it.” She shot back enigmatically, before turning around and moving deeper into the throngs of people.

Not for the first time that day, her siblings exchanged helpless glances, hoping beyond hope she didn’t make a mistake. Much like how they prayed to the Great Goddess that Yugo wouldn’t get in trouble for whatever he was about to do.

......................................................................................................................

The count’s words were so unexpected, Amalia couldn’t help but break their hold, taking one step back in shock. As she stared back at the Xelor, her eyes wide in disbelief, the only sound that left her throat was a quiet, “What?”

But the count just shrugged, as if he hadn’t just shaken her perception of reality. “Don’t act so surprised, my Lady. It’s hard to feel any affection for someone who not once has been there for you when you needed him.”

That… made sense, she supposed, just like she could understand Ush’s distaste for his own father if it was true Ecaflip favoured some of his children more than others. Still, there was something in the way the count uttered those words—so matter-of-factly, so casually, almost as if it was a simple, undeniable fact of life—that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her unease only grew with each other word that left her fellow demigod’s mouth.

“And that is another thing you and I have in common.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve always heard misery loves company, but I never truly appreciated its meaning until now.”

When the doll found her voice, it was distinctly small and anxious, “I…I don’t think I understand.”

The count’s affable tone did nothing to keep his words from feeling like cold knives aiming at her heart. “But Lady Amalia, don’t you see? We’ve both been abandoned by our respective divine fathers.”

And just like that, the ice cold fear taking hold of her heart melted away, replaced by rightful fury at such blasphemy. How dare he insult her father like that? How dare he insult her like that? How dare he?

“My father has not abandoned me, Your Grace.” She told him firmly, her tone stern as she balled her hands into fists.

Her frown only hardened into a scowl when he had the audacity to laugh at that, to laugh at her.

“Lady Amalia, your faith in your father is wonderfully refreshing, but you must face the facts.” Just then, a shadow passed over his features, the smile disappearing completely from his face. “As soon as you were created, your father dumped you here to serve as somebody else’s bride, with no care for your feelings or input. Can you really tell me Sadida hasn’t forsaken you?”

For a moment, the doll hesitated, biting her lip. Still, her father loved her. She was his masterpiece, he said so himself! And he was extremely saddened to watch her go. Besides, she wasn’t sent to the World of Twelve on a whim of her father’s, she was there for a reason.

“I’m here because the Eliatropes need me—” Amalia began to defend herself, only to be cut off by the sound of the count’s loud, unnerving laughter.

When his cackles died down and he finally looked her in the eye, it made Amalia wish he’d kept his mask on. The look on his face was the stuff of nightmares.

“The Eliatropes, you say?” He asked, even though he didn’t wait for an answer to continue. “Lady Amalia, can’t you see how those low-lives don’t deserve you? They have no right coming to our world and demanding our approval and cooperation. And now they believe themselves worthy of being sent a Divine Doll? They believe themselves worthy of you?” He let out a low, sardonic laugh, his manic eye fixed on her form.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Before she had time to react or even register the way the partygoers were all looking at them, Count Harebourg held the Sadida Doll by her arms tight enough for her to bruise where his fingertips made contact with her skin. As that ice-powered madman stared deep into her soul, all she could do in her frightened state was to let out a pained gasp.

“Amalia, come with me to Frigost. If there’s one nation in the World of Twelve that would benefit from you becoming its ruler, that’s my home! Together, we can make everyone pay for turning their backs on us, we can get revenge on the gods for siring us and forsaking us when we need them most! For treating us like we’re replaceable instead of their own flesh and blood!

“You and I are kindred spirits, Lady Amalia, and soulmates like us must stick together.” Count Harebourg’s lips curled into a smile that was meant to be encouraging but that, combined with the almost frenzied look in his eye, only made him look like a madman. “You already hold my heart, my Lady, all that’s left to do is for you to become my countess and to rule Frigost by my side.”

Much to her chagrin, Amalia was paralysed, her mind completely blank as she found herself genuinely fearing for her life. The sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears was so loud, and her eyes so fixated on the man in front of her, she remained completely unaware of the surprised gasps echoing all around her or the flashes of blue light coming from her periphery.

Even as the count’s expression darkened into a hate-filled scowl, she remained out of it until the Xelor was shoved back and away from her with incredible force while a pair of strong, warm, protective arms held her close to an equally warm and strong body. For the first time that night, Amalia allowed herself to just melt into that person’s embrace, feeling safe at last.

She could stay in that comforting embrace forever if given the chance.

Once she’d willed her breathing to go back to normal, the doll chanced to glance up at her mysterious saviour. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Yugo, his eyes shining a bright blue as his gaze bore down on the count menacingly, a hand outstretched and glowing ominously in case his opponent tried anything funny.

He held her even closer when Count Harebourg got back up to his feet, his own eye shining with fury at the interruption. “You!” He snarled, encasing his arms in ice sharp enough to cut through steel.

But before a fight could ensue, Queen Astra’s voice cut through the thick atmosphere like a knife. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Count Harebourg.” She warned, her guests parting to let her pass. At her feet, Master Joris brandished his log-backpack, his intentions clear.

One by one, the Bontarian guards stationed alongside the walls all came to point their weapons at the Xelor count, at the same time as the members of the Council of Six all came to their king’s aid, daring their opponent to make his move.

Looking around for a way out, Count Harebourg eventually surrendered, his shoulders slouching in defeat as he dispelled the ice on his arms. But not before flashing Yugo a hate-filled glare, a snarl curling at his lips. And with that, he let himself be enveloped by a cold breeze and disappeared.

As soon as the count vanished, the weight of everything that had just happened, as well as everything leading up to that moment, crashed over Amalia, overwhelming her senses to a point it was almost painful. Her mind a turbulent storm, she wriggled herself free from Yugo’s grasp and stormed off towards the balcony, desperate for some air.

After a quick glance his siblings’ way to ensure they’d be fine without him, a concerned Yugo was soon to follow.

................................................................................................................

The moment she made it past the threshold leading to the balcony, Amalia groaned, exasperated, “That was just infuriating!”

“Can’t really argue with you there. I’ve been getting a bad feeling from the count since we met him.” Yugo agreed, his eyes back to their usual dark brown.

He had to take a step back in surprise when Amalia whirled around to face him, a fire in her eyes, “I was talking about you!”

Yugo’s jaw dropped. “Me? But I just saved you from that freak!”

With a humph! Amalia turned back around, crossing her arms. “I didn’t need your help!” She insisted petulantly.

He couldn’t believe his ears. Mouth agape, he shot back, raising his arms in the air in exasperation. “Don't you see what that guy was trying to do from the very beginning?”

“At first he was just being nice to me!” She countered. Deep down, Amalia knew Yugo was right, but she wasn’t in the right headspace to concede anything. So she pressed on.

“Yeah, to get into your pants!” He shouted.

“I don't see how that's possible, since I’m not even wearing pants today!” She screeched right back.Then, she added, haughtily sticking her nose up in the air. “Besides, you heard Master Joris; no Twelvian in their right mind would dare lay a finger on me.”

Yugo could only blink at her, incredulous. She had to be kidding him. There was no way they were having this conversation. Not after what just happened.

“I’m sorry, but was he supposed to realise he wouldn't dare hurt you before or after he grabbed you by the arms tight enough to leave bruises on your skin?”

Amalia didn’t respond, she just stared stubbornly to the side. That lit a fire within Yugo, the outrage he felt growing by the second. So that was how it was gonna be, huh? He spent the entire night worrying for her safety, trying to look out for her, and even saving her from that lunatic, and this was how she repaid him?

He wouldn’t have been able to keep the bitterness out of his mouth even if he tried. “Maybe I should’ve let him take you to Frigost with him, seeing as you didn’t need my help.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re any better.” She shot back, turning her body completely so her back was to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Eliatrope asked, his voice low.

But she didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at him.

So, mustering every last bit of patience he had, he tried again. “Amalia, what’s that supposed to mean?”

She still refused to even acknowledge his presence.

“Amalia!”

Still, nothing. Growing exasperated, Yugo almost reached out to her to force her to look at him, but taking notice of how tender the skin Harebourg had grabbed her by looked, he ultimately decided against it. In the end, he opened a portal right in front of her, determined to get her to explain herself.

What he saw broke his heart in two.

Even as she still refused to meet his eyes, it was plain to see she was crying, the tears streaming down her cheeks regardless of how hard she tried to keep them at bay. And the way she was desperately hugging herself for comfort only made his heart throb painfully.

“Amalia…” His anger momentarily forgotten, he tried reaching out to her, only for her watery voice to stop him in his tracks.

“Deep down you’re just like the count, Yugo.” She said, her words like knives to his heart. “You don’t care about me as a person at all, you only care about what I can offer to you and your people.”

“Amalia, that’s not true at all!” He tried to defend himself, aghast by her accusation. “You’re my friend, of course I care about you!”

Much to his consternation, Amalia let out a loud, sardonic laugh, before her eyes turned into daggers as she finally stared back at him. “Oh, really? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me ever since we came back from the beach? Is that why you haven’t been training in front of my balcony anymore? Why, no matter how hard I try to get close to you, you do everything in your power to avoid me? Is that why you recoil from my touch as if my mere presence disgusted you?!”

As she spoke, each word filled with anger, confusion, and hurt, she took one step forward after another, forcing Yugo to go back little by little. She made sure to punctuate each question with a poke of her finger into his chest. The only reason it hurt had nothing to do with the force behind it, but because her words felt like a suckerpunch.

“What do you expect me to believe, Yugo?” She asked him rhetorically. “What do you expect me to think when the first time in weeks you spend with me has nothing to do with you wanting to be by my side, but because your people need me! Something you couldn’t even talk to me about in person. Oh, no! I had to find out through the Royal tailor!” The doll threw her arms to her sides, the tears falling freely down her cheeks.

“You’re surrounded by your family and people who love you, Yugo, but I only have you. But you…” She choked on her tears, her voice watery and broken from weeks of holding it all back. And yet, Amalia made sure to look him in the eye as she sobbed, “You want nothing to do with me…”

And finally, as her voice broke when she uttered those last few syllables, she brought her hands to her face and she sobbed. Her shoulders going up and down as she hiccuped, brokenhearted. And yet, Yugo felt like he was the one who had his heart ripped off his chest at the sight of her. At the sight of what he’d caused.

Swallowing hard, he was forced to face the truth. Amalia was right. She was right about everything. Since there was no guarantee they would ever fall in love, he had promised he’d be her friend, only to break that promise as soon as he got scared. The moment they came back from the beach he didn’t just keep her at arm’s length, he refused to even see her unless it was absolutely necessary.

And, more often than not, it was her who would be looking for him, not the other way around.

He always got defensive and protective of her whenever she wasn’t near, her happiness becoming a priority. But whenever the doll was within reach, his doubts weighed him down and prevented him from treating Amaia like she deserved.

With a heavy heart, he was forced to realise the only reason Count Harebourg got close to her in the first place had been because he allowed it.

“Amalia, I…” He started, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry. I… I haven’t been fair to you. I-I got so caught up in other things, I didn’t even realise how that made you feel, and I… I’m so sorry.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth either. Regardless, he went on. “You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you. You’re right, I haven’t been a good friend. But I really want to make it up to you. From now on, I promise to do better, okay?”

She let him place his hands over her shawl-covered shoulders. He supposed that was a start. Tentatively, carefully, he brought his arms around her body, holding her close in an attempt to offer some comfort. His breath almost hitched when she snaked her arms around his sides, just as cautiously. Even in her current state, scared, angry, and tear-stricken, she still allowed him, one of the people responsible for everything, to hug her.

He’d really screwed up, hadn’t he?

After a few more minutes where the only sound that could be heard in the balcony were her quiet sniffles, the Divine Doll broke their hold enough for her to look up at him from under her lashes. Even with her brown eyes red and puffy, Yugo couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was, his eyes soft.

“You really mean that?” She asked in a small voice.

“Of course!” He assured her. “I promise, I’ll do anything in my power to make it up to you. Is there anything you want to do?”

She remained quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and then… “There’s a thing or two I’d like to do.”

“Tell me, I’m all ears. Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”

“I’d really like to dance with you.” She told him, a flush dusting her cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you all evening, but I didn’t think you would accept.”

He smiled at her. Sometimes she was satisfied with the simplest things. “Of course, I’ll dance with you, Amalia.”

Steadily growing in confidence, she added. “And… and you haven’t said anything about my dress. I lost count of how many times I got pricked by a needle for this, you know?”

If anything, his grin only widened. “There’s no words to describe how you look, Amalia.” He told her honestly.

Her blush deepening, the doll had to cough slightly before she finally said, glancing shyly back at him. “You… you don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Why, thank you. Anything else?”

“Yes, I’d like to do something fun while we’re here in Bonta.”

“Actually, I might just have the perfect thing.” He smirked.

“Oh?”

“That’s right. Queen Astra suggested we stay to watch the gobbowl game taking place tomorrow. Apparently, it’s a huge deal around here.”

Amalia wasn’t quite sure what to expect. “If you say so…”

...................................................................................................................

As they watched the Eliatrope King and Sadida’s eleventh doll dancing, both of them sporting blinding smiles on their faces as they swayed to the music and King Yugo twirled Amalia around, her skirt and shawl fluttering behind her with every step, Prince Armand couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow at the display. He turned to his father.

“Do you really believe there’s nothing going on between them—?”

“Not even for a second, son.”

.............................................................................................................

“Oh, sweet Sadida!” Amalia exclaimed, completely awestruck. “And that last transfer?!”

“I know!” Yugo agreed, beside himself with excitement. “Man, that Kriss Krass fellow sure knows how to put on a show!”

Walking a few feet ahead of them, Adamaï couldn’t help but smile to himself as his brother and his precious flower bonded over gobbowl. Looking over his shoulder, he had to admit it was quite endearing to see how they discussed the match so animatedly, their hands clasped and their eyes glimmering as they recounted the moments that stood out the most to them.

Seeing them now after weeks of tense interactions, standing so close to each other and even hugging each other tightly whenever Kriss Krass’ team scored, was all he needed to feel reassured.

No matter what came next, they would be fine. It was only a matter of time before that thing going on between them blossomed into something more.

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hanasnx · 7 months

Text

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E24

MINORS DNI 18+

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“This isn’t funny, girls, get this off of me.” Anakin’s voice is firm as he moves to get up, his muscle flexing in a most delicious way around the ropes strapped across his wide chest that keep him in place. The chair jars, but he’s restricted to the floor. You and the other girls giggle, having successfully entrapped him.

Jynne circles behind him, running her hand along the line of his shoulders. “But we haven’t finished our fun yet, Great Dragon.” The nickname is spoken facetiously through curled lips. His hands are bound behind his back, but she notes how he twists his wrists, seeking freedom.

“After going through the trouble of conquering and chaining you up, you think we’ll just let you go now?” Kandri, your other companion, adds. She invites herself onto his lap, and he visibly tenses at the contact. Her fingers brush through the locks of his hair, obstructed only by the blindfold he wears. Unable to help herself, she leans in, tentatively brushing her lips against his. He remains uninterested, and she presses their mouths together, taking what she wants. Not a second later before his teeth sink into her lower lip, teaching her his anger. She recoils with an interjection. “Don’t be like that, Ani,” she chastises, apologetically licking her wound.

You join Jynne behind him, splaying your hands on his bare skin. The other two follow your example, their palms sliding all over his body as if you’ll tame him through intoxicating touch. It tingles down his spine when you tangle your digits in his hair at the nape of his neck, and tug his head back so you can mouth his ear. “Guess who’s pussy this is, Ani, and maybe we’ll let you go.”

“Yours, yours— ! Fuck, it’s yours.” he whimpers, thrashing his head as you sink agonizingly slow down his shaft. So thick and hard, you can feel every ridge and every vein.

“That’s right, Ani, very good.” you praise, your hot breath washing over his neck when you dip down to it. You nip his pulse point, and he audibly inhales.

“Good boys sit still and wait for their cunts, don’t they? Sit still, Ani,” Kandri reminds him as she massages his shoulders, and he tips his head back until his hair stands up in the valley of her breasts. Her soft tissue on either side of him soothes him for a moment, until Jynne nestles between his knees, and latches onto one of his balls. He cries out, heavily panting while her tongue smooths over the wrinkly skin. His cock twitches inside you, and you laugh.

“Too much for you, Ani boy? Huh?” you taunt. Sweat permeates into a thin layer on him, and you lick it off of his adam’s apple. The hard cartilage always fascinated you, and it tortures him to be touched so carelessly.

“I guessed right! I guessed right,” he pleads. It’s killing him to be taught patience, and he’s not over how you three take it from him. You’re addicted to the way his face twists, and you had half a mind to remove his blindfold in order to see those eyes. All his emotion shows through in that piercing gaze, and you wish you could be on the receiving end of his wrathful glare as you bounce heedlessly on his cock. “You told me if I guessed right you’d let me g—”

“No, no, Ani,” Kandri chides, plunging her digits into his mouth to shut up him, muffling his words as her fingers ravel with his undulating tongue. Obediently, as surprising as it may be, he sucks on them. His oral fixation quieting him for a sweet moment until he lurches in place over Jynne’s ministrations. How she imbibes his sack, disregarding the sensitivity for her own personal entertainment. Every so often, the tip of her nose brushes the underside of your ass cheek while you fuck Anakin. You watch with interest at how his plump lips form around Kandri’s two fingers as if he’s grateful for the distraction. His apple bobs with each swallow of his own saliva, the little noises he emits through his nose intensifying as you and Jynne increase the fervor of your joint efforts. “You’re not finished ‘til each of us gets one of your famous creampies.”

He unlatches from her digits, and he seizes the opportunity to threaten, “I’ll show you what you’re gonna get. Untie me.”

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jacesvelaryons · 1 year

Text

prologue.

the reluctant empress.

(19th Century Imperial Austria AU)

series masterlist

chapter 1 (soon)

jacaerys (jace) velaryon x female!original character

original work: house of the dragon

rating: rated g (will become pg 18+ in later chapters)

summary: this is a dangerous game we play. as rhaenyra sits on the iron throne and the crown lands on her head, she ensures nothing will risk her reign, and that her son, with all his promise, follows after her. and nothing will stop her.

genres: historical, romance, intrigue, smut (to follow)

word count: 1.0k words

Compromise. That was the word Rhaenyra had heard over and over again, uttered until it became repetitive and meant so much until it was empty.

Never had there been an Empress in her own name since Maria Theresa in the Imperial house, and many of her descendants made sure a woman like her could not rise up again whether by inheritance or coup d’etat.

When King Jaehaerys died unexpectedly in the dawning days of 1852, her father Archduke Viserys befell the throne and crown on his head. Long widowed and mourning the loss of his wife and her mother Aemma, Viserys was a peaceful, kind man, gullible and easily influenced, who suffered bouts of melancholy and locked himself away in his room for days and weeks.

After a series of uprisings from the Vale and failed conquests of Dorne, Rhaenyra managed to convince her somewhat feeble-minded and defeated father to abdicate and hand the throne to her, a princess at age of twenty, fresh from having given birth to her third son Joffrey with spouse Laenor Velaryon, who had taken court with her at Dragonstone, at their ancestral home.

Ever since Jacaerys sat on his grandsire’s lap, chestnut orbs full of wonder and curls forming on his head, as Viserys told him that seat would be his one day - it would be her greatest ambition to succeed him on that throne and pave the way for an even greater reign to come in form of her son.

Since the hatchling sat on her son’s chest and crawled over his wooden crib, Jacaerys was meant for greatness and she knew. He, who picked up reading and writing sooner than any babe, who was crawling already when most did not coordinate their spindly limbs together. Whose eyes read voraciously as he was pressed to her breast or a wet nurse’s. ‘Alysanne reborn’ they would call him sometimes - it’s as if she had swallowed texts and candles while she carried him in her womb.

As the scintillating diadem landed on her head full of silver hair up, Rhaenyra was a step closer to making her dream come true. Sapphires emblazoned on her collar, she honoured her mother Aemma wherever she went, avenging all misdeeds done against her, so that she may have the final laugh after all.

Seeing her father all hesitant, appeasing and letting himself be led on by ill meaning snakes who only wished to take advantage of him for their own personal gains had taught her that compromise can only go so far before it eats you up alive. And she won’t let that happen to her. Or to her son.

…

This is the best I can do. Or at least that’s what Alicent’s father told her when he was able to secure a match for her, a second son’s daughter, to a sickly, old Lord Targaryen who was a distant cousin to the conqueror himself. Not as wealthy or influential as the main branch of the family who sat on the throne, but this is the most she can dream for when most lords turned their heads at the sight of her and her brothers.

The old lord, as wealthy as he was, had no great lands but a humble castle in the middle of nowhere in the Crownlands. Loyal and content he was to his family, he had no drive or ambition of his own, after fighting the same war that had gotten Prince Aemon struck with an arrow, returning with maladies that only added to his already delicate health.

Left with two daughters and a granddaughter from the eldest who was now also left a widow, Alicent felt she had no escape, a hole dug so deep there’s no other way but down.

Meek, obedient, people pleasing and content, Helaena was born first, so quiet and unmoving they were afraid she was stillborn and lifeless, answering the prayers of long assumed infertility her husband had assumed from his failure to sire children from his two previous wives. Plump and round faced, her silver hair was nearly pale and had the blue eyes of her father.

Religion was an escape, a soothing balm to her wounds and sensitive nature, to Helaena as it was for her mother. Although Valyrian and raised in Targaryen customs, she was never found without a copy of the seven by her desk, a beloved edition passed down from her maternal grandmother. She married the Lord Celtigar’s second son, a handsome, dashing, brave, rather foolish young man who perished squashing the wars of rebellion in the Vale, never meeting his shy, reclusive daughter Jaehaera.

The second, youngest daughter Y/N - where do we even start? Auburn hair like her mother’s, with dark purple eyes common in the Freehold, was anything like her beloved sister. As close they were, they were opposites in every way. Whereas Helaena was hesitant and shy, Y/N was an accomplished equestrian, loved to hunt and explore the streets of the common folk as her father did in his childhood. Born kicking and screaming, she was nearly double the size of her elder, loud cries so piercing it could be heard throughout the keep.

Her cousins the Lord of Oldtown were aghast to see how her youngest daughter turned out, not made in the image of the Mother, but too Targaryen for their taste’s, yet they could not fully turn away their own kin.

Yet for all her feracious character and restless spirit, Alicent knew from her early age that there was an unsettling beauty to her daughter that she could not fully comprehend. It only seemed to haunt her as her youngest grew, learned to climb and walk and run.

A woman’s household, her father mockingly told Alicent, and although she at first felt humiliated and in despair at her hopelessness, a sense of hope sprouted in her. Draped in obsidian mourning clothes, clinging to the last good lace in her treasury, she receives a letter from her once childhood friend whom she had served as lady in waiting to in her youth, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

The Queen has invited the Lady Alicent to join her royal court alongside her two daughters, especially as she was considering one who may be the future wife of her son and heir Jacaerys, Prince of Dragonstone. This was Alicent’s ticket to salvation and financial freedom that would save her ailing family from despair - making Helaena a future Queen and her blood on the throne.

…

#hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon scenarios #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd au #hotd smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x oc #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #original work #writing

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actuallyacerrr · 8 months

Note

can you please do a movie Lloyd X reader basically this takes place after the movie so everyone in Ninjago city knows that Lloyd is the green ninja but back to the plot Lloyd is currently going through the Oni and dragon equivalent of puberty so he is growing 2 new arms, horns, Wings and a tail and the reader always visit and Lloyd is starting to feel insecure so the reader shows Lloyd all the messages on her phone and all of them are from there school saying that Lloyd will always be the city green ninja and so on and Lloyd is happy that everyone will accept him and the reader and Lloyd end up cuddling and then garmadon walks in accidentally and processed to embarrass Lloyd in front of the reader and the reader pushes garmadon out of Lloyd room and the reader locks the door so both the reader and Lloyd can have cuddling in peace and the reader says that she loves him no matter what he will look like

Helloooo! I wanna say thank you to who sent in all those requests although i’ve only decided to do two of them ^^’ I still appreciate it!! I am excited to write this one hehe. I’m a sucker for comfort stuff (thought this turned out more like a hurt comfort tbh) so I hope this does the request right! (cause it kinda deviates from the request a bit) I apologize for how long this took to get out. 😭

“In my eyes, you are everything”

Type->

One-Shot

Pairing ->

Movie!Lloyd G. x F!Reader

Warnings ->

Blood mentions, OOC Lloyd(?)

Summary ->

After the events of the movie, Y/n and Lloyd officially get together and often sneak into each other's houses. But one thing Lloyd just so happens to forgets to mention is the fact he has Oni and Dragon blood. And Y/n only finds out when she stumbles upon Lloyd panicking over going through changes. Aka Y/n comforts Lloyd going through Oni/Dragon puberty.

1.7k Words | Masterlist

Footsteps trudged against the pavement of Ninjago city. Today had been a long day for Y/n, but work was always exhausting. What made it worth the wait though was getting to see her best friend and boyfriend, Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon.

Her pace quicken the second she saw that familiar apartment complex. She rushed to the alleyway as soon as she reached it and found the usual fire escape. Rusty as it was the fire escape was surprisingly sound. Climbing past the first…second…third, and finally on the fourth floor.

There wasn’t much to see through the curtains but if Y/n was right.. the window slid open with ease and she climbed in. The room was nice, surprisingly messy but overall organized. She scanned the room even with how familiar it was. Yet there was no sign of Lloyd.

“Must be getting a snack or something..” she mumbled plopping onto his bed starfish style. The feeling of soft sheets let her sink into the familiar mattress sighing contently. She always got jealous of this because seriously?! How does he get one this comfortable!

Y/n stared at the ceiling, more specifically as the spinning fan. The clock ticking in the background producing a rhythmical melody. A minute passed and Y/n got a little curious but stayed still, then another passed, and another. Still remaining comfortable until about five minutes. That’s when She began to worry. Had she misread the texts? Were they supposed to meet at her house?

Rolling over and pulling out her phone to opening their conversation from earlier. And right there, clear as day it confirmed they were in fact supposed to meet at Lloyd’s…but where was he? Y/n concerned shot him a text asking if he was okay and where he was. She put her phone down afterwards resuming staring at the ceiling.

A noise came from the bathroom, like something got knocked over and a pained hiss followed behind it. Worry flooded her systems as she hastily rushed to the bathroom door. Y/n knocked calling out “Lloyd? Is that you?” No answer. “Lloyd” and again there was no answer. So she tried the door handle, unlocked. She peeked in before swinging the door open. There stood Lloyd facing the mirror, hands messing with something on his head, and a box of bandages spilt over on the floor. “Lloyd..” Y/n moved closer but he just turned away like he was ashamed of something. “Whats wrong Lloyd? Are you hurt?” Y/n questioned, her voice soft.

Lloyd turned his head slightly and Y/n places a hand on his shoulder, he turned towards her hesitantly. Finally, as the two stood face to face Y/n cupped the teens cheek looking him over. There was dried blood matted into his hair, on his fingers and under his nails, on his forehead too. Two horns were visibly poking through his hair. And without a second thought he was pulled into a hug, tightly but not to tight either. She could feel his tears soaking her clothes but didn’t care.

Lloyd was gripping her hard, she still did not care, only pulling him closer. his knees felt weak as they both slowly sank to the floor. She rubbed circles into his back and ran fingers through his messy hair. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Y/n asked pulling away now holding Lloyd’s face in her hands. He didn’t say anything at first.

“Puberty..” Lloyd mumbled which led to a slightly confused look forming on her face. “Puberty?” She stated and Lloyd nodded. “Oni…Dragon? Puberty” Lloyd added and Y/n nodded “mmm.” She pushed his hair out of his face, wiping away the tears. “How do you feel right now?”

“Weird and and scared, scared of how people will see me now that not only am I, a Garmadon, but also..a monster.” The last part was spoken softly as he adverted his eyes from her. He didn’t want her to see the forming tears.

“Monster? No no no. Lloyd. You are not a monster. You’re changing and that is okay. I remember this story..The First Spinjitzu Master..he was the mix of Oni and Dragon..right?”

Lloyd nodded, not seeing why that story was relevant.

“and he had two sons, one of them being Garmadon, your father.”

Again, Lloyd nodded starting to catch on.

“It’s because of your heritage is it not then?”

For a third time Lloyd nodded.

“Then there is no reason to call yourself a monster. You should be proud to wear these. A symbol of your heritage and a reminder to yourself and the people that even now there is still a great person protecting them. This realm, and everything you stand for.”

Lloyd glanced back at her, sniffling.

“Mhm… I think we should probably get you cleaned up.” Y/n said referring to the dried up blood. She watched Lloyd awkwardly smiled and nodded. Getting up she looked around the bathroom.

“Sink cabinets.”

“Thanks” Y/n replied crouching down, opening the sink, grabbing an excess cloth before going to damp it with water. Getting on the ground she pushed Lloyd’s hair out of the way again and pressed the cloth to his forehead wiping the blood.

Lloyd hummed as if holding in the pain. “I know, it’ll hurt for a bit..once I get the blood off i’ll need to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.” Y/n explained continuing her work. She finished with his forehead moving on to his fingers and under nails. That was much significantly easier to clean. Y/n turned back to the sink’s cabinets for the med kit, and grabbing rubbing alcohol. “Ok, this will hurt. I’m gonna count to three so brace yourself.” She warned getting the gauze ready.

“Ok, 1, 2, 3” she began to clean the wound as Lloyd hissed trying to pull away. “Moving is only gonna make it worse.” Y/n warned..again.

Lloyd mumbles trying to not move as much.

Y/n finished and dressed the wounds. “How’s that?”

Lloyd nodded, “better thank you..” He watched his girlfriend nod and peck his forehead.

“Cmon, let’s go get comfy.” Y/n pulled up Lloyd and they walked back to the bed to get comfortable, maybe watch a show or something. She plopped down by the top while Lloyd sat at the edge near the bottom. Something was still bothering him it seemed. So she flipped over putting her head in her hands.

“You feeling any better?” Y/n asked.

“not really..” was the reply.

Y/n sat up, “come here.” She patted the place beside her. Her boyfriend moved closer and leaned on her. She pulled him closer. Her fingers brushing through his hair once again.

“I love you Lloyd, nothings ever gonna change that.”

Lloyd nodded “I know that..I love you to, so much. I’m just scared how others will see me” he spoke. “That they will no longer see me as their green ninja..that i’m..” He didn’t finish his statement.

Y/n gave him a look “Lloyd.”

Lloyd continued “different enough to be shammed, that I reflect my father more than my uncle or or the First Spinjitzu Master. I don’t want people to be afraid of me-“

“Lloyd-“

“What if they start being afraid of me!-“

Y/n pecked his lips. “Lloyd!” He just stared at her “You are and will always be this cities green ninja, you are this cities hero, They are not afraid of you, they love you Lloyd.” Y/n cupped her boyfriend’s face.

“You are my hero, you are my favorite person in all of Ninjago, because you are you.” Y/n began pecking his face, starting on his forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks, lips. “I love every inch of you. In my eyes, you are everything. You’re my world, heart, and sun. I smile every time you text me, every time I see you, your appearance will never change that.”

“How would you know that?”

Y/n looked confused, “what do you mean?”

“How do you know they don’t hate me.”

Y/n shows him her phone, she had Chirp pulled up. On the trending page were #GreenNinja, #Weloveyougreenninja, #LloydGarmadon, etc. She turned her phone away to click on one of the hashtags and turned it back scrolling through all the chirps. hundreds, thousands, of them about how the cites green ninja and hero. How they love him, congrats on saving the city and many more. That wasn’t all, she pulled the phone away and opened Instabook. Scrolling through hashtags related to him, even showing post from many of the students and school.

“They don’t Lloyd, they love you, as do I. Don’t forget that okay?”

Lloyd stared at her before tackling her in a hug. Causing his girlfriend to giggle, Y/n paused not even realizing till now “you have four arms?”

“…you don’t mind them?” Lloyd asked.

“What? No! they’re awesome! I mean like with four arms just think of all the things you could do, climbing faster, fighting faster! Plussss you can give me more cuddlessss.” Y/n said booping Lloyd’s nose. She pecked him and began to run her fingers through his hair.

They fell into a comfortable silence, just her and Lloyd together. Everything was alright in the world as if it remained only them two. Lloyd falling asleep on her as she falls asleep holding him.

Y/n looked down with a small smile, Lloyd looked half asleep by now. Especially in all this peace and quiet-

The door slammed open.

“Guess I spoke to soon..” mumbled Y/n

Lloyd shot up looking in the direction of the door and groaned plopping back onto Y/n. “Go away dad”

“Oh, did I interrupt something?” Garmadon spoke with a teasing tone and a raised eyebrow.

Lloyd’s face turned red which Y/n got a glimpse of. Burry his face into her more. Y/n just giggled at his response.

“You know you should really lock the door, son” Lloyd groaned “daddd.” All Y/n could do was giggle at this interaction.

Another head peaked through the open doorway. “Honey we should leave the kids alone. Let them have their fun.” Koko, Lloyd’s mom, winked.

“Moooomm not you too!”

Koko laughed. “Okay okay, we’ll leave you alone. Cmon you.” His mom dragged away Garmadon.

“Thanks Mrs. G!” Y/n Yelled out as Lloyd used his elemental power to shut and lock the door.

The two got comfortable again, cuddling up and laughing. Eventually falling asleep together, embracing themselves in each other’s warmth and arms.

#acerrr writings #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago fandom #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon x reader #x reader #oneshot #fanfic #fluff

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a-midnight-rabbit-writes · 7 months

Text

Adagio

Platonic Malleus x GN pianist!Reader

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Reader finds a forgotten piano hidden away in the depths of NRC. Soothing their loneliness via music, they soon gather a lone audience member who silently enjoys their playing from the shadows.

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CW: none

Word count: 1165

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This wasn’t the first time that the mysterious, dark haired student had come to listen to you play. You’d noticed him quite a few times over the past few weeks, actually, lingering just outside the partially opened classroom door, hiding off to the side in the shadows of the corridor as your fingers danced along the piano’s keys. He was so silent most of the time that you might not have noticed him at all, had it not been for the soft, almost imperceptible humming that you had picked up on one day, following along with your fingers upon the black and white keys as you circled around to the beginning of one particular song for the third or fourth (maybe even the fifth) time that evening.

While the memories of your home world were blurry, like the indistinct photograph of an object slipping by as your finger frantically struck the shutter button in a futile attempt to capture the present moment, your fingers seemed to have a memory all their own, one that the transfer between worlds hadn’t had the thought to snatch away. And so, the dusty piano, only slightly out of tune and tucked away in an abandoned classroom down one of Night Raven College’s unlit stone-walled hallways had become somewhat of a safe-haven for you. An overlooked instrument, for an overlooked, unmagical student. The two of you left behind together to waltz to the tune of fragmented classical music from another world.

Usually students didn’t venture this far into the castle, especially not this late in the evening. Most were preparing to head back to the dorms from club activities and other after-school engagements. However, the person quietly lingering outside the classroom door wasn’t the average student, you’d come to notice. You had seen him in the halls quite a few times, followed closely by two tall young men, one incredibly loud, with sharp eyes and green hair, the other one quiet, with a softer expression and light silver locks that almost fell into his eyes, the three always given a wide berth by those passing through the halls. Though you suspect that this had less to do with Sebek and Silver, upperclassmen whose names you had come to learn in passing, and more to do with the young lord for whom they acted as bodyguards.

Malleus Draconia. Dragon fae. Heir apparent to Briar Valley. The name didn’t mean much to you, not being of this world. However, it seemed to instill a stark sense of fear and unease into each and every one of your classmates.

You had accidentally caught his gaze once, passing through the stone-walled hallways on your way to Professor Trein’s history class early one morning. Running late, the halls had been vacant, except for you and one other student. Out of breath from the near-running pace that you had kept throughout the halls, praying that you could slip into class just before the bell rang, you had turned a corner and looked up just in time to meet the chartreuse eyes of a much taller student, his curling black horns adding significant height to his already tall frame. He wore the standard black NRC blazer over the bright green Diasomnia vest, a matching dorm armband encircling his upper left arm. It was rare to see him without his bodyguards, or his vice housewarden, Lilia Vanrouge. Yet here he was, alone, and running late to class, just as you were, though much unlike you he displayed no outward urgency in ensuring that he arrived on time. The two of you held eye contact for but a brief moment as you rushed past him, but it was long enough for you to glimpse a very recognizable emotion in his gaze.

Loneliness. An emotion that you had become almost intimately familiar with since arriving in Twisted Wonderland.

It wasn’t as if you weren’t close to anyone here. You had made friends, and had at least a handful of people here who you cared about and who cared about you in return. And yet, sometimes late at night, or during certain holidays or other special celebrations that were foreign to you, classmates and friends sharing that excitement with family and people they had known for years, you could feel that quiet ache slip into your being. It was during those times especially that the familiar music coming from your fingertips had become a necessary comfort.

Today, strangely, you noticed that your piano was no longer out of tune. Each key resonated at its intended pitch as you stretched your fingers, warming up each digit with a few sets of scales. As you eased your way through your warm-up routine and into the repetitive loop of your favorite instrumental pieces, the fading daylight swept by as quickly as it usually did. As the creeping darkness outside overcame the remaining sunlight you found yourself reaching for a small matchbook and the tarnished silver candle holder that sat atop the piano. You paused, curiously, as your fingers brushed against the cool metal handle of the candle holder, surprised to see that the melted down stub of wax that had served to light your evenings in this dusty classroom had been replaced with a taller, fresh candle, the wick yet unblemished by soot.

You had just opened the matchbook, fingers searching for a single match within, when out of nowhere the candle suddenly came alight with a sickly green, flickering flame. Straightening, and turning towards the doorway, you saw that your lone hallway audience member had actually stepped through the door today, and stood only a short distance from you. His eyes reflected the firelight of the lone candle, almost glowing green in the faint lighting as he towered over you, his horns spiraling away into the shadows.

You noticed that he held an instrument case in his hands.

“You play exceptionally well, Child of Man,” the strange fae remarked. “Might I accompany you this evening?” He inquired, unlatching the instrument case and pulling out his violin.

“I’m not sure I know anything you’d be familiar with…” You admitted to him, yet unsure whether to be flattered or intimidated by the attention of Briar Valley’s dark prince. You hadn’t really bothered to learn many songs from this world, instead opting to play what you had memorized from home, over, and over, and over again. A slight smile graced the dragon fae’s lips at your words.

“I believe that I have become familiar enough with what you already know, Child of Man.”

Hesitating for just one moment more, you gave him a slight nod in acquiescence, before turning back to the black and white keys in front of you. Your fingers swept lightly over the keys, an airy, delicate tune soothing the air and growing in intensity with the addition of a tender violin chorus intertwining itself within your melody.

Perhaps it would be alright to share your loneliness with another person, just this once.

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Thanks for reading!!

#twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #nrc #diasomnia #twst fanfic #fanfiction #tumblr drabbles #twst malleus

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lavieverdezoro · 8 months

Text

a short sabo fluff

You heard a loud noise coming from the hallway, many low rank marines alerting the other marines that someone broke into the base. Your eyes widened and you immediately slam open your door, ready to go after the intruder only for sabo to stand in front of your door. He laughed as he pushed you back into your office and locked the door behind him. You gasp, and you grab him by the collar as you start to yell at him for just breaking into your base.... you're a vice admiral, and you are in charge of marine base G 6. Sabo pouts and wraps his arms around you as he tries to calm you down. You couldn't believe it a vice admiral secretly dating a revaluationary and the right-hand man for dragon at that! You don't understand how you feel in love with such an idiot who was always clingy towards you. Sabo continued to pout as he apologized and hugged you tightly, not wanting you to be upset by him.

Clingy Sabo

Little cutie

#sabo x reader #one piece #sabo fluff #lavieverdezoro

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hellsite-hall-of-fame · 1 year

Note

Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort which could only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. Many brave knigts had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but non prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for her true love and true love's first kiss. {Laughing} Like that's ever gonna happen. {Paper Rusting, Toilet Flushes} What a load of - Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed She was lookin' kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb In the shape of an "L" on her forehead The years start comin' and they don't stop comin' Fed to the rules and hit the ground runnin' Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do so much to see So what's wrong with takin' the backstreets You'll never know if you don't go You'll never shine if you don't glow Hey, now You're an all-star Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold It's a cool place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now but wait till you get older But the meteor men beg to differ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture The ice we skate is gettin' pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire How 'bout yours That's the way I like it and I'll never get bored Hey, now, you're an all-star {Shouting} Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold {Belches} Go! Go! {Record Scratching} Go. Go.Go. Hey, now, you're an all-star Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold -Think it's in there? -All right. Let's get it! -Whoa.

Hold on. Do you know what that thing can do to you? -Yeah, it'll grind your bones for it's bread. {Laughs} -Yes, well, actually, that would be a gaint. Now, ogres - - They're much worse. They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin. -No! -They'll shave your liver. Squeeze the jelly from your eyes! Actually, it's quite good on toast. -Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya! {Gasping} -Right. {Roaring} {Shouting} {Roaring} {Whispers} This is the part where you run away. {Gasping} {Laughs} {Laughing} And stay out! "Wanted. Fairy tale creatures." {Sighs} {Man's voice} All right. This one's full. -Take it away! {Gasps} -Move it along. Come on! Get up! -Next! -Give me that! Your fiying days are over. That's 20 pieces of silver for the witch. Next! -Get up! Come on! -Twenty pieces. {Thudding} -Sit down there! -Keep quiet! {Crying} -This cage is too small. -Please, don't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please! Give me another chance! -Oh, shut up. -Oh! -Next! -What have you got? -This little wooden puppet. -I'm not a puppet. I'm a real boy. -Five shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away. -Father, please! Don't let them do this! -Help me! -Next! What have you got? -Well, I've got a talking donkey. {Grunts} -Right. Well, that's good for ten shillings, if you can prove it. -Oh, go ahead, little fella. -Well? -Oh, oh, he's just - - He's just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. Talk, you boneheaded dolt - - -That's it. I've heard enough. Guards! -No, no, he talks! He does.

I can talk. I love to talk. I'm the talkingest damn thing you ever saw. -Get her out of my sight. -No, no! I swear! Oh! He can talk! {Gasps} -Hey! I can fly! -He can fly! -He can fly! -He can talk! -Ha, ha! That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey. You might have seen a housefly, maybe even a superfly but I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly. Ha, ha! Oh-oh. {Grunts} -Seize him! -After him! He's getting away! {Grunts, Gasps} {Man} -Get him! This way! Turn! -You there. Orge! -Aye? -By the order of Lord Farquaad I am authorized to place you both under arrest and transport you to a designated..... resettlement facility. -Oh, really? You and what army? {Gasps, Whimpering} {Chuckles} -Can I say something to you? -Listen, you was really, really, really somethin' back here. Incredible! Are you talkin' to - - me? Whoa! -Yes. I was talkin' to you. Can I tell you that you that you was great back here? Those guards! They thought they was all of that. Then you showed up, and bam! They was trippin' over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that. -Oh, that's great. Really. -Man, it's good to be free. -Now, why don't you go celebrate your freedom with your own friends? Hmm? -But, uh, I don't have any friends. And I'm not goin' out there by myself. Hey, wait a minute! I got a great idea! I'll stick with you. You're mean, green, fightin' machine. Together we'll scare the spit out of anybody that crosses us. {Roaring} -Oh, wow! That was really scary. If you don't mind me sayin', if that don't work, your breath certainly will get the job done, 'cause you definitely need some Tic Tacs or something, 'cause you breath stinks! You almost burned the hair outta my nose, just like the time - - {Mumbling} Than I ate some rotten berries. I had strong gases eking out of my butt that day. -Why are you following me? -I'll tell you why. 'Cause I'm all alone There's no one here beside me My promlems have all gone There's no one to deride me But you gotta heve friends - - -Stop singing! It's no wonder you don't have any friends. -Wow. Only a true friend would be that cruelly honest. -Listen, little donkey. Take a look at me. What am I? -Uh - - Really tall? -No! I'm an orge! You know.

"Grab your torch and pitchforks." Doesn't that bother you? -Nope. -Really? -Really, really. -Oh. -Man, I like you. What's you name? -Uh, Shrek. -Shrek? Well, you know what I like about you, Shrek? You got that kind of I-don't-care-what-nobody-thinks-of-me thing. I like that. I respect that, Shrek. You all right. Whoo! Look at that. Who'd want to live in place like that? -That would be my home. -Oh! And it is lovely! Just beautiful. You know you are quite a decorator. It's amazing what you've done with such a modest budget. I like that boulder. That is a nice boulder. -I guess you don't entertain much, do you? -I like my privacy. -You know, I do too. That's another thing we have in common. Like I hate it when you got somebody in your face. You've trying to give them a hint, and they won't leave. There's that awkward silence. -Can I stay with you? -Uh, what? -Can I stay with you, please? -Of course! -Really? -No. -Please! I don't wanna go back there! You don't know what it's like to be considered a freak. Well, maybe you do. But that's why we gotta stick together. You gotta let me stay! Please! Please! -Okay! Okay! But one night only.

-Ah! Thank you! -What are you - - No! No! -This is gonna be fun! We can stay up late, swappin' manly stories, and in the mornin' I'm makin' waffles. -Oh! -Where do, uh, I sleep? -Outside! -Oh, well. I guess that's cool. I mean, I don't know you, and you don't know me, so I guess outside is best, you know. {Sniffles} -Here I go. -Good night. {Sighs} -I mean, I do like the outdoors. I'm a donkey. I was born outside. I'll just be sitting by myself outside, I guess, you know. By myself, outside. I'm all alone There's no one here beside me {Bubbling} {Sighs} {Creaking} {Sighs} -I thought I told you to stay outside. -I'm outside. {Clattering} -Well, gents, it's a far cry from the farm, but what choice do we have? -It's not home, but it'll do just fune. -What a lovely bed. -Got ya. {Sniffs} I found some cheese. -Ow! {Grunts} -Blah! Awful stuff. -Is that you, Gorder? -How did you know? -Enough! What are you doing in my house? {Grunts} -Hey! {Snickers} -Oh, no, no, no. Dead broad off the table. -Where are we supposed to put her? The bed's taken. -Huh? {Gusps} {Male voice} What? -I live in a swamp. I put up signs. I'm a terrifying orge! What do I have to do get a little privacy? -Aah! -Oh, no. No! No! {Cackling} -What? -Quit it. -Don't push. {Squeaking} {Lows} - What are you doing in my swamp? {Echoing} Swamp! Swamp! Swamp! {Gasping} -Oh, dear! -Whoa! -All right, get out of here. All of you, move it! Come on! Let's go! Hapaya! Hapaya! Hey! -Quickly. Come on! -No, no! No, no. Not there. Not there. -Oh! {Sighs} -Hey, don't look at me. I didn't invite them. -Oh, gosh, no one invited us. -What? -We were forced to come here. -By who? -Lord Farquaad. -He huffed und he puffed und he...... signed an eviction notice. {Sighs} -All right. Who knows where this Farquaad guy is? {Murmuring} -Oh, I do. I know where he is.

-Does anyone else know where to find him? Anyone at all? -Me! Me! -Anyone? -Oh! Oh, pick me! Oh, I know! I know! Me, me! {Sighs} -Okay, fine. Attention, all fairy tale things. Do not get comfortable. Your welcome is officially worn out. In fact, I'm gonna see this guy Farquaad right now and get you all off my land and back where you came from! {Cheering} {Twittering} -Oh! You! You're comin' with me. - All right, that's what I like to hear, man. Shrek and Donkey, two stalwart friends, off on a whirlwind big-city adventure. I love it! -On the road again. Sing it with me, Shrek. -Hey. Oh, oh! -I can't wait to get on the road again. -What did I say about singing? -Can I whistle? -No. -Can I hum it? -All right, hum it. {Humming} {Grunts} {Whimpering} -That's enough. He's ready to talk. {Coughing} {Laughing} {Clears throat} -Run, run, run, as fust as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man! -You are a monster. -I'm not the monster here. You are. You and the rest of that fairy tale trash, poisoning my perfect world. Now, tell me! Where are the others? -Eat me!{Grunts} -I've tried to be fair to you creatures. Now my patience has reached its end! Tell me or I'll - -

-No, no, not the buttons. Not my gumdrop buttons. -All right then. Who's hiding them? -Okay, I'll tell you. Do you know the muffin man? -The muffin man? -The muffin man. -Yes, I know the muffin man, who lives on Drury Lane? -Well, she's married to the muffin man. -The muffin man? -The muffin man! -She's married to the muffin man. {Door opens} -My lord! We found it. -Then what are you waiting for? Bring it in. {Man grunting} {Gasping} -Oh! -Magic mirror - - -Don't tell him anything! -No! {Ginerbread man whispers} -Evening. Mirror, mirror on the wall. Is this not the most perfect kingdom of them all? -Well, technically you're not a king. -Uh, Thelonius. -You were saying? -What I mean is, you're not a king yet. But you can become one. All you have to do is marry a princess. -Go on. {Chuckles} -So, just sit back and relax, my lord, because it's time for you to meet today's eligible bachelorettes. And here they are! Bachelorette number one is a mentally abused shut-in from a kingdom far, far away. She likes sushi and hot tubbing anytime. Her hobbies include cooking and cleaning for her two evil sisters. Please welcome Cinderella. -Bachelorette number two is a cape-wearing girl from the land of fancy. Although she lives with seven other men, she's not easy.

Just kiss her dead, frozen lips and find out what a live wire she is. Come on. Give it up for Snow White! -And last, but certainly not last, bachelorette number three is a fiery redhead from a dragon-guarded castle surrounded by hot boiling lava! But don't let that cool you off. She's a loaded pistol who likes pina colads and getting caught in the rain. Yours for the rescuing, Princess Fiona! -So will it be bachelorette number one, bachelorette number two or bachelorette number three? -Two! Two! -Three! Three! -Two! Two! -Three! -Three? One? {Shudders} Three? --Three! Pick number three, my lord! -Okay, okay, uh, number three! -Lord Farquaad, you've chosen Princess Fiona. If you like pina coladas And getting caught in the rain -Princess Fiona. If you're not into yoga -She's perfect. All I have to do is just find someone who can go - - -But I probably should mention the little thing that happens at night. -I'll do it. -Yes, but after sunset - - -Silence! I will make this Princess Fiona my queen, and DuLoc will finally have the perfect king! Captain, assemble your finest men. We're going to have a tournament. -But that's it. That's it right there. That's DuLoc. I told ya I'd find it. -So, that must be Lord Farquaad's castle. -Uh-huh. That's the place. -Do you think maybe he's compensating for something? {Laughs} {Groans} -Hey, wait. Wait up, Shrek. -Hurry, darling. We're late. Hurry. -Hey, you! {Screams} -Wait a second. Look, I'm not gonna eat you. I just - - I just - - {Whimpering} {Sighs} {Whimpering, Groans} {Turnstile clatters} {Chuckles} {Sighs} -It's quiet. Too quiet. {Creaking} -Where is everybody? -Hey, look at this! {Clattering, whirring, clicking} Welcome to DuLoc such a perfect town Here we have some rules Let us lay them down Don't make waves, stay in line And we'll get along fine DuLoc is perfect place

Please keep off of the grass Shine your shoes, wipe your... face DuLoc is, DuLoc is DuLoc is perfect ...... place {Camera shutter clicks {Whirring} -Wow! Let's do that again! -No. No. No, no, no! No. {Trumpet fanfare} {Crowd cheering} -Brave knights. -You are the best and brightest in all the land. -Today one of you shall prove himself - - -All right. You're going the right way for a smacked bottom. -Sorry about that. {Cheering} -That champion shall have the honor - - no, no - - the privilege to go forth and rescue the lovely Princess Fiona from the fiery keep of the dragon. If for any reason the winner is unsuccessful, the first runner-up will take his place and so on and so forth. Some of you mae die, but it's a sacrifice I am willing to make. {Cheering} -Let the tournament begin! {Gasps} -Oh! -What is that? {Gasping} -It's hideous! -Ah, that's not very nice. It's just a donkey. -Indeed. Knights, new plan! The one who kills the orge will be named champion! Have it him! -Get him! -Oh, hey! Now come on! Hang on now. -Go ahead! Get him! -Can't we just settle this over a pint? -Kill the beast! -No? All right then. Come on! I don't give a damn about my reputation You're living in the past It's a new generation -Damn! {Whinnying} A girl can do what she wants to do And that's what I'm gonna do And I don't give a damn about my bad reputation Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Not me Me, me, me -Hey, Shrek, tag me! Tag me! And I don't give a damn about my bad reputation

just so everyone knows, there are like 5 other asks with the rest of the Shrek script in my inbox…..

but i’m only posting this one, so you’re all so very welcome!!!

(also thank you so very much @genlossicle, your commitment is astounding and very much appreciated lol)

#I feel like this is the best one to post #it has the duloc song! and all star !#ask #the hellsite answers #shrek script #long post #very long post #shrek #script #movie script #hellsite hall of fame curator’s bullshit

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topguncortez · 2 years

Text

Dragon ~ B. Bradshaw

pairing: B.Bradshaw x F!Reader (Trace sister)

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of smut, cursing, dangerous flight situations, g-loc

synopsis: Being the younger sister to one of the top female fighter pilots has you on your toes and struggling to get an ounce of power.

“God for fucking once I don’t need you to bail me out!” Y/N yelled at her sister, as she threw her helmet across the locker room.

“Well maybe, if you didn’t need bailing out, I wouldn’t have to bail you out!” Phoenix yelled.

“You got in my fucking way! I fucking had him, Nix!”

“I wasn’t even in your way and you were losing!” Y/N groaned and slammed a locker shut, walking away from her sister, “Yeah! Real mature! Throwing and slamming shit!”

“I learned it from you!”

Y/N couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as her, opting to grab her shower stuff and storm her way down to the other latrines. Y/N pushed the door open, not bothering to stop at the ‘male latrine’ sign on the door. Finding an open bench, she set her stuff down and plopped down with a heavy sigh.

It was hard being the younger sister to Lieutenant Natasha Trace aka ‘Phoenix’. Y/N had been exactly a year younger than her, most people compared the two as twins, which they both quickly grew to hate. There was always a natural competitiveness to the two, always having to outdo the other, no matter what. Natasha turned 18 and joined the navy, a year later Y/N did too. Natasha got selected for Top Gun, and a year later Y/N did too. Now the both of them found themselves back at Flightown, on a mission where the outcome was still yet to be determined, but one thing was for sure, they both desperately wanted in on it.

Y/N reached to the back of her head, pulling out the pins that held her hair in a nice and tight bun. She hated having to have her hair done, especially when it came to flying. She felt odd walking around with a braid in, seeing how perfect Phoenix’s hair was every day. So Y/N reverted back to her old lower enlisted ways, waking up almost two hours before first formation, going through almost a whole can of hairspray to make sure not a single flyaway was out of place. It felt like heaven at the end of the day, being able to take her hair down and take her fingers through the crunchy locks.

Standing up, she took her boots off and then the flight suit that had become her main source of clothing these past two weeks. She stood in her black spandex and white tank top, digging around her hygiene bag for her shower stuff.

“Did you hit your head or something, Dragon?” She lifted her head up to see the one and only Bradley Bradshaw standing in front of her.

“No, I know exactly where I am.”

“Ah, so you know that you are in the men’s latrine, half naked,”

“Can I help you, Chicken?”

Bradley chuckled at his nickname. Y/N and Bradley had gotten to know each other on a current duty assignment, and she couldn’t stand him. There was something about the way he walked, the way he talked that had her wanting to punch him. Then, of course, the icing on the cake was his friendship with her sister. All of them, actually. They all seemed to know each other, except for her. Y/N felt like the odd man out, watching them drink and have a good time at the Hard Deck. She would usually buy herself a drink, talk with them about how the day went, but when the music and the pool started, she would slip out the door, undetected and go back to her barracks room.

“Wondering why you look so sad, really bringing down the vibe,”

“Of the old, black mold covered, latrine?”

“Yes. It has a lot of character.”

She chuckled, shaking her head, “Just a little tiff with the older sister.”

“Lemme guess, Maverick shot you with a ‘missile’”

She nodded, slipping her dog tags over her neck. She could feel Bradley’s eyes on her as she bent down to take her knee high green socks off. Bradley’s honey brown eyes traced her long tan legs, seeing the dragon tattoo that resided on her thigh. That's how she got her callsign anyway. A certain young lower enlisted hookup and the reveal of the ink that she hid from her parents and older sister. Y/N pride herself in knowing she had the first mythical creature callsign in the family, and her's came later.

“Can I help you, lieutenant?” She asked, noticing his stare on her legs.

“Did it hurt? The tattoo?” He asked, pointing at the ink.

Y/N smirked, grabbing the waistband of her spandex and dropping them down her legs, revealing the intricate pattern of scales and flowers that seemed to stop just shy of her ribcage and the navy blue lace thong that was underneath her shorts.

“No, it felt quite nice. I’ve always had a thing for pain,” Y/N said.

Rooster was speechless, taking in the sight of her tan skin, her body almost on full display being covered by some flimsy undergarments that he could rip away in seconds. The sly smirk on Y/N’s face, as she turned around, letting him have a full look at her ass. Bradley felt all the blood go rushing straight to his lower region, as she grabbed a towel from on top of the lockers.

“Any other questions, sir?” Y/N asked, turning back around. Bradley shook his head, watching as she grabbed the bottom of her tank top, shedding it off her body, “That’s enough of a show for you, sir.”

All Bradley could do was nod, and watch Y/N walk away towards the showers. Once he heard the shower curtain slide shut he had to take a deep breath, trying to get his body to remember what breathing was. He adjusted himself in his flight suit, choosing to grab his shower stuff and shower in the privacy of his home.

Where his thoughts were anything but pure as he leaned against his shower wall, fist wrapped around his aching cock, as he jerked himself off to the image of her. He could only imagine the way your skin felt under his hands, him tracing the intricate patterns of the tattoo on her hip. The sounds that would leave her lips, even hearing the small grunts and whines while doing 200 push-ups on the tarmac were enough to drive him crazy sometimes. Or the way his name would fall from her lips, or better yet, the way she addressed him properly.

“Sir. . . is this good?”

“Oh fuck yeah, that’s good, Y/N,” Bradley cursed, moving his hand up and down faster along his cock. Feeling the pleasure grow hotter and hotter in his body, until he was shooting white hot ropes of cum onto his stomach.

— — —

The next day everyone gathered in the classroom, Y/N and Phoenix taking opposite corners of the room, her in front left corner, next to Bob, her WSO, and Y/N in the back right, in a row by herself. Y/N liked sitting in the back, being able to watch everyone else. She watched as everyone filtered in, watching as Rooster swaggered in last, the certain way he walked with such confidence. When Maverick came in, everyone rose to attention until he called you at ease.

“We’re switching things up a bit,” Maverick said looking at the class. Everyone seemed to shift in their seats, feeling the nerves. Maverick always kept them on their toes, in the air and on the ground, “Rooster, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Fritz. . . and Dragon, you’ll be flying as a team.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as Phoenix turned around and looked directly at her younger sister, her face unreadable. Maverick dismissed everyone, and Y/N was one of the first people out of the room, trying to avoid her older sister, but that didn’t stop her from yelling Y/N’s name.

“Y/N!” Phoenix yelled, not even bothering to use her callsign, “What the hell was that!”

“I didn’t know! I had no idea he was going to-” Y/N’s speech was cut off by Natasha’s harsh slap to her face. Y/N stumbled a bit, and then found her footing, quickly lunging towards her sister, “You bitch!”

“Whoa!” Payback said, getting in between the two females. He grabbed Y/N’s waist, as Bob grabbed Phoenix, “Hey don’t kill each other before the mission.”

“You throw one fucking fit about me saving your ass and you got me benched!” Phoenix yelled.

“Maybe Mav finally saw that you’re a shitty pilot and knows you can’t complete this mission!”

“Says the one who I had to bail out!”

“Ugh, I hope you go into g-lock!”

“Yeah, well I hope your eject-”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Phoenix regretted it. There were some things that they would never say to each other, especially doing some of the most dangerous missions in US military history. No matter how mad they got at each other, they never wished something ill like death or a failed ejection. Payback released Y/N’s body, and she pushed his arms away, going straight for the tarmac.

“Dragon! Wait!” Phoenix yelled, but Payback stepped in the way, stopping her, “Move!”

“No, she’s about to go up in the air, she needs a clear head.” Payback said. Phoenix nodded and prayed to whatever God was listening to that her little sister would be okay.

Y/N knew where Rooster was, knowing that he liked to sit in the silence of the locker room before getting suited up and heading to the tarmac. It once again didn’t phase her as she walked right into the men’s latrine, finding Rooster where she expected him to be.

“Is it your fault that I’m not flying with Phoenix? Did you do this shit?!” Y/N yelled at him.

Rooster stood up from his spot on the bench and looked at her, “I said something to Mav about possibly split-”

“God can’t you men leave anything alone! I don’t need you or her or Mav or anyone to come to my rescue! There’s a reason i’m a solo pilot and that’s because I can handle my own shit without a fucking man sitting behind my shoulder telling me what to do!”

Rooster opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N left the latrine before he could. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. That’s not what he was expecting when he talked to Maverick about possibly splitting Dragon and Phoenix up for a flight exercise. He was hoping she would be thankful for the opportunity to do a training exercise without having to share the sky with her sister. Instead, she seemed more angry at the fact that Phoenix wasn’t going to be in the air with her.

The next time Rooster saw Dragon was during the pre-flight check. Bradley was going to walk over and say something, but Hangman beat him to it. Bradley stopped in his tracks, watching as Hangman gave her that panty-dropping smile he gives to every female he sees. Bradley knew that she saw right through Hangman's antics, usually not giving him the time of day, but she laughed. And not one of those awkward chuckles, a hearty laugh, tilting her head back and squinting her eyes. Bradley moved from his spot over to his plane, trying to fill his mind with the thoughts of the flight exercise and not the way she put her hand on Hangman’s forearm.

Y/N climbed in her plane, getting comfortable in her seat before slipping on the harness. She let out a shaky breath as she looked around her cockpit, checking the gauges and reporting back her pre-flight numbers to her flight crew.

“You feel good about this, Dragon?” Her flight chief, Grizzly asked.

“I’m good,” Y/N said, and grabbed her mask, strapping it down, before flipping the switch to close the top. She waited for the flight crew to taxi her out into the runway, looking to her right to see her WSO team ready for flight as well, “Alright, let’s rock this shit.”

Y/N waited in line for her turn to take off. She gripped the joystick in her hand, watching as Rooster, Payback and Fanboy took off before her. When it was her turn, she closed her eyes and said a small prayer, before pushing the joystick forward, letting the plane move and catch speed. She felt the nose catch air, and pulled back the joystick quickly, letting the plane get completely off the ground and sail through the air. In the hangar, Phoenix took a deep breath watching her sister take off in her F/A-18.

There was something about cruising through the sky, seeing the sereness of the earth from a high altitude was peaceful. There had been times where Dragon would take an old fighter jet up, and just cruise around Flightown at sunset, trying to “chase the sun” before it went down. She loved flying, it was one of the things no one could take away from her.

“You good there, Dragon?” She heard Rooster call to her via headset.

“Let’s just get this shit done,” Y/N said, watching the Roosters move.

“Fine, drop into the canyon,” Rooster answered.

Y/N watched as Bradley dropped into the pretend canyon, following the flight pattern on his screen, Fanboy and Payback following in suit. Once it was her turn, Y/N dropped into the canyon, following the sharp turns that were presented on her screen. She had memorized this map in her sleep, knowing exactly how tight and how fast to take the turns. She also knew that time was important, keeping her eye on the ticking clock in the corner.

“Come on Rooster, speed it up,” Y/N whispered.

“Line it up, Fanboy,” Payback called to his WSO.

“Lined up, drop it, Rooster!” Fanboy called for Bradley to drop the “missile” on the target.

“Fuck!” Bradley cursed, missing his target, “It’s on you, Dragon.”

Y/N inhaled as she flew closer to the drop zone, calling to her WSO team to line up the target. She watched as Fritz lined the laser, giving her a clear shot. She closed her eyes, counting the seconds until she was directly over it, hitting the button to drop the missile. Y/N opened her eyes, seeing that she hit the target. The next part was the worst, as she began the sharp incline out of the deep canyon. She pulled the joystick back as far as it would go, feeling her jet almost go completely vertical.

“Keep breathing. . . keep. . . breathing,” She chanted to herself as she was fighting consciousness, “Keep. . .” She felt her head getting heavier, her eyes struggling to keep open and the blood leaving her brain. Y/N maintained to stop her jet from climbing any higher, but now she was starting to fall out of the sky.

“Dragon!” Rooster yelled.

“Fuck! She’s in g-loc!” Payback yelled.

“Come on, Dragon!” Rooster called out, “Wake up!” Rooster directed his jet to go after her, hoping that him getting on her sensor would be loud enough to wake her up, “Dragon! Y/N!”

It was like being in a dream, the constant beeping and hearing her name being called in her subconscious mind. She felt her head rock back in her helmet and her eyes flutter open. It took her a second to get her barings of where she was, but thankfully she realized what was going on.

“Holy shit!” Y/N cursed, jerking the joystick up and pulling her out of a nose dive, “Oh my god, oh my god.”

“Dragon, you good?” Rooster called, flying next to her. She looked over and nodded, feeling tears in her eyes.

She had never been so thankful for getting her feet back on the ground. She didn’t even spend long doing post flight, and no one kept her longer than she needed to be there. Maverick didn’t say much to her either, telling her she did a good job and that he was glad that she landed safely. Phoenix was too scared to talk to her, opting not to say anything as Y/N grabbed her stuff from her locker room and went back to her barracks room.

She was pretty sure she drained the whole floor out of hot water. Her shoulders and back were red when she stepped out of the shower, wiping the steam off of the mirror. She sighed, grabbing her hair brush and brushing out the tangles and clumps of hairspray she hadn’t totally gotten out of her hair. She did her best to push the emotions of the day away. She was still mad at Phoenix and Rooster, but she was also terrified of what had happened. Y/N had never hit g-loc, she knew what it was and how terrifying it could be, but the fact that there were seconds that she was in the air and not in control of anything was absolutely terrifying.

Y/N got dressed in a pair of Navy issued sweatpants and a unit t-shirt. She grabbed one of the beers she had snuggled back into her dorm room, and cracked it open, sitting down on her couch in total silence. She sipped her beer, letting her mind go completely blank of the day's events, taking in a deep breath. It felt good, peaceful to be by herself and being able to decompress, until there was a knock on the door.

Y/N groaned, getting up from the couch and going to her door, looking in the peephole and let out another frustrated groan seeing who it was. She opened the door and Bradley smiled at her shyly.

“The hell do you want?” Y/N groaned.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay, since you almost died.”

“I did not almost die.”

“Almost.”

“God, you’re annoying! This is what I meant! I don’t need bailing out!”

“You went into g-loc,” Bradley said, stepping into her dorm, and shutting the door behind him, “Your brain lost blood and you passed out.. . In a flying death machine.”

“I know! Okay. . . I know. . .” Y/N said softly, “I-I-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bradley said, walking over to her and pulling her into his arms. She gripped him tightly, afraid he would disappear or this was still a side effect of being in g-loc. Bradley kissed the top of her forehead as she sniffled.

“Wanna get drunk with me?” Y/N asked, pulling away from her.

Bradley chuckled and looked at the six pack sitting on her counter, “I mean. . . you only live once.”

Bradley watched as she smiled, and walked over to her counter, grabbing a beer and digging for her bottle opener. Bradley smiled shyly to himself, trying to suppress his feelings that he felt. It took everything in him to not grab her and kiss her but he refrained giving her a small thanks, as she handed him a beer and then dragged him over to the couch.

#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun fanfic #top gun x reader #rooster Bradshaw #rooster Bradshaw imagine #rooster Bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw imagine #Bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley rooster Bradshaw imagine

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ficsforgaza · 15 days

Text

˗ˏˋ CREATOR MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

Note

yandere rhaenyra x sorceress fem reader (light yandere not really dark preferably) headcanons or another format if you like. -reader can possibly have kids w/ her (which might help when rhaenyra is with laenor is you make her a sorceress from descended from old Valeryia so has the targaryen look & later she can be the one to get pregnant if wanted) -she could also be a dragon rider at one point -viscerys may even love her no matter what the hightowers say because she has magic from old valaryia (might give her more influence than the hightowers do) -meaning rhaenyra could stay in the keep. - laenor stays or you make them get with daemon (or they get together privately if you want to keep laena alive cause the reader can save her)

- reader even be able to save jeoffry I'm going to stop with my ideas as they may go on and on, sorry this was so long I got carried away (I or someone else, or you if you want may be able to turn this into a full on story one day)! Some side platonic yandere shorts could be made from this

hey lovie! so happy to receive this request it was very fun to write :) <3 i would be happy to write more detail in a fic but unfortunately i couldn't go too in depth on this current post but if i do write one up i will tag you :)

pronouns: she/her warnings: both sfw and nsfw sections

SFW

now as a blueprint i'm going to go through a little thought process of reader & rhaenyra

i went down the route of reader keeping majority to Valyrian lore

and i think in this case Rhaenyra would be more of an obsessing yandere

lets say that reader is a descendant of Valyrian blood, perhaps her family escaped The Doom because they foresaw it, perhaps later aligning with Aegon I as he conquered Westeros so long as he kept their family a secret and so he ensured both their safety and their stay under his rule

however things sour after he has passed and they flee

they become a mere rumour and legend which King Viserys ends up telling to his children with fervent delight, dreaming of the day they might return

Rhaenyra drinks this up not only because it is intriguing but also because the beautiful artwork he shows to her look magnificent, fire encircling them and blood locking their promises

she will have pretended as a little girl to be one of these sorcerers, twirling with her mother in patterns befitting ceremonies and copying their olden styles

however as she gets older she pretends to forget the mysterious sorcerers and instead focuses on maintaining her title as heir, demanding the same respect she is sure her ancestors' dear allies must have

and yet one night, when she is tending to her courtly duties, she hears the most humorous little rumour

that there is a witch among the grounds, they whisper

and then it is brought up at a council meeting and her blood heats, a gasp drawing from her mouth in match with the Queen's

they both share a glance, recalling the games they had played as children before the pattering of feet

they expect to see a fearful lamb pleading for sanctuary but instead they find you

beautiful, regal you

Rhaenyra thinks you look more a Queen than either of them and she stands in respect, shocking the court

the men around you gape but you simply smirk in approval "Your grace," You greet, only holding contact with her as you curtsy only so slightly

Alicent coughs and stands also, determined to maintain composure

you explain that you have been orphaned and bring forth the written promise of Aegon I to care for your little family

Alicent requests proof with a concerned stiff expression and you gladly provide

with the flick of your wrist you summon a dragonglass candle from the skirt of your dress and stare deep into the spot in which a wick should be placed

in a flash it alights and broadens before your eyes

gasps enrapture but again you snap your sights on Rhaenyra and only Rhaenyra

she gives the barest of nod "we...hope you enjoy the comforts of court." she merely says and instructs her own personal guard to escort you to the guest chambers closest to her own

she can't get the image of your self-assured expression out of her mind

you are utterly bewitching with your snowy hair and tussled skirts

her sights linger on the ankle that peaks through as you hike up your said skirts

Alicent clears her throat and gives a pointed stare but it takes all of Rhaenyra's self control to settle herself back in her chair but everyone at the table share wary glances

she doesn't see you again until late the next day, requesting your presence for dinner and conveniently forgetting that her husband will be off for a hunt with his...dear friend

excitement shoots through her in powered waves

however she is disappointed to learn that her father too has requested your presence and her family have decided upon a collective dinner so that they may all meet the curious sorceress

Viserys is instantly engaging conversation with you the moment you sit down and before that, greets you in a warm embrace

he is a curious man who knows you too must carry the stories of your ancestors and he is eager to learn

for most of the evening Rhaenyra watches in curiosity, watching how your hair sways and your angelic features resemble her most ardent dreams

she has to restrain herself, grip tightening on her fork

it's that night that she makes her intentions clear to you and she's relieved to see your acceptance

Rhaenyra Targaryen is not one to hide her emotions nor her desires

your relationship is turned into a powerful storm of heat and danger, Otto's eyes narrowing everytime you enter a room

he proclaims you as a most unholy being and one to be banished which Viserys does not take kindly too

instead he is sent far away and Alicent is brought to the highest frustration as you attend almost every family outing or event with Rhaenyra proud at your side in the space her husband used to occupy

if anyone even slightly threatens or questions your presence at court she will be quick to scold and imprison them

going so far as to threaten their head

it's late in your coupling that you whisper sweet words in her ears, describing the imagery of her father's crown atop her head and a child born of you both

she knows all of your family's hidden secrets by now and while she and Laenor have not been graced with an heir by the Gods, you offer both a dream and solution

instead of accepting your offer of fertility in regards to her husband, she tucks back your hair and caresses your face

her lips dip down on yours and then breathes into your ear three sweet word "I want yours," she slips her kisses down your neck and presses your palm to her soft stomach

once the babe is born it doesn't matter whose dominant genes he inherits because with a gentle stroke of his hair it can turn as pale as winter snow

some may still question the child's true parentage considering the early birth and supposed consummation's circumstances do not quite align

but it matters not for your future Queen is determined to instil the confidence of a monarch

where Rhaenyra's tendencies come in I think she could become very smothering and clingy, sticking to you every possible moment that she is able

i could see this being a big relief for both Viserys and Laenor

Viserys' line will be continued and his daughter is happy, he wants to preserve this happiness, if you did request to return to your original home or to wander elsewhere i could see him suddenly developing a 'very important' project that he needs your assistance with

i think Laenor would also attempt to keep you close with his wife

i think i could picture Rhaenyra tricking you into a traditional Valyrian wedding or at least attempting to without explaining the possible repercussions of this

she's impulsive and devoted to you, nothing is out of her sphere of protection

her presence engulfs you with sweet words and soft promises

in this au i could imagine a much happier Rhaenyra in all aspects but it also means giving her the daughter she has always wished for

even more, she adores the fact that you are beside her while whichever one of you births the beautiful darlings with hair so regal and beauty gifted from you

NSFW

she's all too eager to pleasure you

you are the most magnificent beautiful and powerful being she has ever witnessed and she want to show you in every lewd and respectable way she can imagine

her most ardent desire however is the promise you whisper against her soft thighs, speaking of golden crowns and forsaking your duties in favour of delighting your Queen

her favourite though is when you sink your fingers between her lower lips and glide your tongue along her slick

the way your nails tickle her thighs and slide up to pebble her nipples and playing with those sensitive buds

she likes to let go with you

it's freeing to be finally enact upon the fantasies of her teenhood

she says often and plays with the words of you bewitching her, it sends a delightful shiver down her spine

tags: @gracielikegrapes

Hotd Taglist: (bold and italics means you need to check your settings, it didn't work)

@wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @blackdreamspeaks @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly

#rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader headcanons #rhaenyra targaryen headcanons #rhaenyra targaryen x sorceress!reader #rhaenyra targaryen x valyrian reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #request #requests #ask #asks #sorceress reader #sorceress reader x rhaenyra

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kalmiaphlox · 19 days

Text

Practice Makes Perfect

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Astarion can appreciate that his sweet, little daughter just wishes to help out and bond with a certain lady-lizard in the house.

But dear gods, all Izzy does is tangle Kalmia's hair into a nest. Maybe it's time for a lesson.

Main Tags: Domestic Fluff, Dadstarion, Established Relationship, Hair Braiding, Minor Tantrum, Apologies

His eyes blink open, inhaling sharply as he takes in his surroundings.

Alone.

He’s alone in bed. How? When he fell asleep, he had been sandwiched between Kalmia and Izmezine, how could they both move without waking him?

The room is perfectly dark, but the clock reads just past five - in the morning if he has to guess. Light peeking out from the bathroom door catches his eye and quiet voices drift Astarion's way. Ah, there they are.

Sneaking over to the door, he peers inside, listening in on their private conversation.

Kalmia is sitting on the ground in front of Izmezine criss-cross on a chair, his little girl is working very carefully to entangle the dragon's hair in a poor excuse for a braid. He really needs to teach Izzy how to do it right, Kalmia's hair doesn't deserve such atrocities.

“Kalli, when I g-get big, I be a d-dr-dragon?” The dhampir is tying strands of her hair together and then just spinning it all around her hand. Astarion's fingers ache to fix it but he isn't going to interrupt their conversation.

“Oh, I don't think you can turn into one on your own, but I bet we can ask nafldask. She can probably change you into a baby dragon for a little bit.”

Izzy grins in excitement. “And- And I f-fly?”

“I don't see why not. Nafldask will show you what to do.” Kalmia pulls her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.

“You fly w-with me too, Kalli?”

“No, I'm sorry, sweetie. I can't fly.”

“Why?”

He knows it's only natural for Izmezine to be curious but he cringes at her bluntness.

Kalmia doesn’t sigh or sound particularly sad, though he imagines that this hurts to talk about. “I don't have wings, but I am a very good swimmer as a dragon, so you can swim with me instead, ok?”

And she's talented at deflecting.

“Can Papa swim too?”

“Hmm, I don't know. We can ask him when he wakes up.” She says with a contented smile.

Izmezine has finished her destruction of Kalmia's hair, patting the dragon on the shoulder with a confident smile. Kalmia steps before the mirror, admiring Izzy's… handiwork. Of course, the wizened lizard is ever gracious. “Wow! Maybe I should start paying you for such fine work!”

Kalmia takes the girl in her arms, giving her a big squeeze which she starts squeaking at. “Shh, shh, shh! Your father's still asleep, we don't want to wake him up! He might eat us!”

They giggle together quietly and he rolls his eyes, returning to the bed.

It's just the three of them today with Gale and Shadowheart out on vacation.

Izmezine needs that lesson. “Little love, can you come sit with me? I want to show you something.” Astarion holds an arm out, beckoning to his daughter. When she throws her pencils down and runs to him, he turns his attention to the old lizard. “Will you sit here in front of us? I think it's time for a lesson on hair braiding.”

Kalmia pauses in her sorting of her hoard, having been searching for topazes at his request. “Well, how could I say no to that?” and she settles on the floor in front of them, continuing her task.

“Alright, Izmezine, my sweetest little darling,” he pulls a comb out from beside his chair, handing it to Izzy. “Let's brush Kalmia's hair, gently. Her skull is very brittle from how old she is, so we must treat her with care.” Kalmia offers no response to his slight, but he anticipates a punishment later.

Izzy takes the brush in both hands and with Astarions help, they smooth out Kalmia's brown locks. So much hair makes it easier for him to braid, but Izzy's little hands can only hold so much, maybe they can give Kalmia dual braids.

He's getting ahead of himself, Izzy is going to struggle even with a small one.

Once the dragon's hair is brushed to perfection, Astarion pushes most of it over one of her shoulders, leaving a small handful for him and Izzy to practice with. “Dearest, are you ready?” She nods silently. “Alright,” He grasps the strands, laying them out on his palm, “We need to separate these into three equal pieces. Can you do that for me? You can leave one piece here,” pointing to Kalmia's back, “And the other here.” Pointing to his wrist.

It's hesitant, but Izzy very carefully does as she's told, splitting the hair up into three almost equal pieces. Her golden eyes glance up at him, swimming with uncertainty, and he gives a soft smile in response, kissing her forehead. “Good job. Hold the middle piece in your left hand and the right one in your right hand.”

There's a long pause as Izzy looks between her hands, remembering which one is left or right, she'll ask for his help when she needs it, so Astarion refrains from rushing her. Eventually, she makes the right choices, picking up all the hair she should, awaiting further instruction with a determined set to her brow.

“This is the hard part now, kitten, so take it slow. Cross your right hand over your left one,” he waits as she does so, “And now move your left hand to put that hair on my wrist. You can let both of them go.” Izzy does, and with that, they have successfully completed one motion. “So we need to repeat that move again but on the opposite side. Left hand holding that one and right hand, middle one.”

Her confidence has soared as Astarion instructs her on twisting Kalmia’s hair back and forth, eventually ending with a very loose and tangled braid once finished, but a braid nonetheless.

“Well, look at that! You did it!” He hugs Izmezine close before finding a small elastic to tie up the ends of Kalmia's hair. He throws the strands forward, “Take a gander, little wyrm, this anon is quite skilled.”

Kalmia inspects the braid with a keen eye, a bright smile breaks across her face when she turns around, pulling the dhampir close into a hug and smothering her in kisses as Izzy shrieks like a banshee. “Wow, it's beautiful! You can replace your father as my hair stylist!”

His glare could cut glass, but Kalmia is unfazed by such things, being a dragon and all, while she continues to snuggle against Izzy.

“Enough of that. Would you like to try again, kitten?” He separates them so Kalmia can go back to her job and Izzy is up to the task of another try.

Ever the independent one, she wants to do this braid on her own, with minimal help. There's quite a bit of frustration building as the twisting of strands together isn't going as well as she wants, which is fine, but she refuses all of Astarion's attempts for help.

He has no idea where her stubbornness comes from.

Izmezine reaches a breaking point though, the braiding isn't going as smoothly as she would like, and she… yanks roughly on the ends of Kalmia's hair.

Astarion is horrified that she would react like that, and Kalmia offers no response, not even a surprised grunt at having her hair almost ripped out. Grabbing Izzy's hand, he puts on a firm tone, “No! You can't do that. Apologize to Kalmia, now.”

Izzy's lip trembles and he sees the tears are ready to start, but she closes her mouth with a scowl, before sprinting downstairs with a cry. Gods, what a dramatic exit. “I'm sorry, are you alright?” He rests a hand on Kalmia's shoulder.

The door to Izzy's room slams shut. Ugh.

Turning to face him, Kalmia smiles pleasantly, “Nothing to worry about,” and then her smile turns evil, “She throws fits just the way you do.”

“Fits?! What are you talking about? I am perfectly level-headed, at all times!” His indignation flares up and that just makes Kalmia laugh.

“Awe, irthiski, it's ok if you can't control your emotions. You'll learn one day.”

“Ancient fiend! I've had enough of you.” Astarion abandons the wretch to check on Izzy. He's not ready to face her wailing, and as he knocks on her door, he can hear the quiet whimpers as she cries on her bed. “Izmezine, can daddy come in?”

The muffled response he gets back is unintelligible, but he'll take it as a yes as he creaks open the door, finding Izzy curled up on the head of the bed, hiding herself between pillows and stuffed animals. Her little cheeks are blotchy and stained with tears, eyes bloodshot and lip continuing to tremble as she stares up at him behind her kitty toy, most likely afraid of whatever reprimand is to come.

Perching himself at the edge of her bed, he sits cross-legged and straight-backed, gods, Astarion hates having to be stern with her, especially when he's so weak to her tears, “I'm very disappointed by how you acted upstairs. Do you know why?”

A high keening is building up from within her as Izzy sinks further into her protective shell of pillows, whipping her head to the side in defiance, “N-No!”

It takes all of his power to not raise an eyebrow and scoff, he instead opts for a shallow sigh, “You pulled on Kalmia's hair. That hurt her.” It didn't, but this is a lesson to be learned. Semantics aren't necessary. “I understand you were frustrated, but if you get upset, you should use your words. I need you to tell me what's bothering you and then we can work on it together. Can we do that next time?”

The vampire who kills people on the weekly is really sitting here lecturing his daughter on how to be nice. What in the hells has happened to his life?

Izzy is still partially buried in her pillows and toys, peeking a teary golden eye out at him as he speaks, and finally she chooses to sit up, “I-I h-hu-hurted Kalli?”

“Yes, you need to apologize to her.”

“Ok.” She crawls into his lap, sniffling against his chest, and Astarion holds her close before placing a kiss atop her white curls.

++++

Later that night, Astarion and Kalmia are sitting at the bathroom vanity while he combs through her hair. It's a nightly ritual that they have taken up, he loves to lavish her with care and she loves to receive it.

“How did it go, little wyrm?”

She snorts, “I know you were listening.”

He rolls his eyes, thankful Kalmia can't see him from this angle. “Obviously, but I want to know how you feel about it.”

“Izmezine apologized nicely, and I know she meant it. She's a little being with big emotions, no harm done.”

“Magnanimous as usual, my love. Where would I be without your generosity?” Nibbling at one of her ears, Astarion ends the care routine with a smack to her thigh.

“Very cold and thousands of gems poorer.” She remarks as she glides into their bedroom.

With a mocking shake of his head, he follows Kalmia's lead, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, keen to never let go. “Might I love you tonight, my darling?”

“I hope you do for the rest of our days, irthiski.” She lays a fervent kiss upon him.

No one loves him like she does.

Some end notes: -anon = flower in draconic -nafldask = grandmother

#astarion #bg3 #dadstarion #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fic #ao3 #astarion ancunin

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