#must have been her rash marriage
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Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles.
#Watson’s pov in Sherlock stories kills me#admiration was#I repeat#the first impression#but the second was criticism#must have been her rash marriage#really took the bloom off her sulphur rose blush
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I know this isn’t really relevant to the recent promo we’ve gotten (which I’m still swooning over, for the record), but I’ve been thinking about how some people in this fandom have been fussing over Pen having a potential suitor (or suitorS, we don’t really know) this season, and I don’t understand their complaints, I guess?
… like, I’m pretty sure that it’s meant to MIRROR Season 1.
(…see what I did there? ;)
There are multiple ways in which Colin and Penelope’s stories / situations have mirrored the other. They are not perfect mirrors (that would be dull), but they ARE similar and I truly believe that it’s intentional to reinforce both Polin’s compatibility and ultimately their empathy for the other.
A few examples:
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Colin: is viewed as the “one-dimensional” easy-going, un-serious, charming brother who never rocks the boat; never gets angry.
Pen: is viewed as a shy, quiet, harmless wallflower who never steps out of line and is kind of a doormat.
—
As a result of the above perceptions:
Colin: is desperate for something to fill his time and energy the way his brothers have something, SO he impulsively courts and proposes marriage to a girl he barely knows to feel needed and wanted in a way that makes him feel mature; and he gets the validation he seeks from Marina, as it suits her needs (I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, she genuinely needed him to be desperate for validation to get a quick marriage). A heady feeling, someone relying on you and telling you that you are desperately needed…
Penelope: is desperate to feel a part of the ton in any way she can, because her and her family are tolerated at best, and heavily criticized at worst. So rather than suffering through the season, crushed, and always on the sidelines against her will, after choosing to start LW —perhaps on a whim, perhaps it was discovered and encouraged by chance like in the books— she “chooses” to hug the wall and not be noticed… (not at all a coping mechanism and a fear of rejection, amirite??) …and she eventually gets the acceptance and validation she seeks by having the ton hang off her every word as LW…. Again, a heady thing for a lonely 17-18 year old who wants to be heard and who craves acceptance, however she can get it.
—
Penelope: has to watch the man she’s in love with, one of the few people who listens to her and who she shows aspects of her true, (sometimes cutting self) with, court and eventually propose to a girl she knows is actively manipulating him.
She then (quickly, imperfectly and messily) interferes to spare Colin from the plot… without his input (after a failed first attempt to appeal to him, in her defense… and then the time limit became a problem).
Colin: quickly and imperfectly interferes in Jack’s ruby scheme in order to fix his own rashness, but also to spare the Featherington family… (without their input, it must be noted, even though he says he does it for them).
…And now in season 3, Colin will need to watch as Pen attempts to attract suitors, possibly while he watches with feelings of jealously if she has some success (Edit: Though I doubt it will get all the way to an engagement; too redundant)
(And this is nothing but speculation, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if Colin either discovers something about one of the suitors, or about another plot entirely and is forced to make a difficult decision regarding it, that impacts Penelope).
—
Penelope: writes things that can have a negative impact on or hurt people, sometimes for her own own comfort (LW), even if it’s not intentional.
Colin: says and does things that hurt others or that are misleading / obliviously harmful, sometimes for his own comfort (avoiding the needling of those men at the end of S2), even if it’s not intentional.
—
Penelope: has self esteem that has been in the TRASH since the beginning of the series - this poor girl hates herself, and has had it reinforced often (and likely from a young age) that her thoughts and opinions aren’t worth hearing, and that she is never enough (and is one of a few reasons why I find the “she wanted Colin for herself!” takes about the end of S1 pretty laughable)… so she hides behind LW. Colin is one of the only people she’s hinted to that she can be biting (Eloise gets glimpses of it), and I think the ONLY one she has hinted at that she has “grand dreams”
Colin: ALSO has self esteem that is pretty low, desperately seeking something that he thinks will make him feel whole and complete, the forgotten middle child (same, bro…), and he masks this uncertainty by flaunting a fake confidence and hiding behind his hobbies and being what everyone wants him to be… also he he can keep people from looking deeper… while simultaneously desperate to be seen by those around him. Pen is the only person he’s really hinted at that he’s unhappy when they discuss purpose.
—
EDIT: How could I forget?! BOTH are the third children in their family. Colin is the forgotten middle child, and Pen is the youngest, but both are criticized by their acting heads of their household (Anthony for Colin, Portia for Penelope), and criticized by their siblings. Penelope’s sisters brutally mock her often: her weight, her skin, her letter-writing, etc. Colin’s siblings clearly mean to just tease him, but it’s obvious how much their lack of interest in him as a person hurts him and makes him feel invisible and unwanted (my poor boy 🥺…)
—
Mirrors, mirrors, and more mirrors. Sometimes they are funhouse mirrors, the situations aren’t ever exact, there are nuances and specific context to each, but imo the similarities are very intentional.
The show is going out of its way to put these characters on more equal footing, and to have each of them make blunders in their lives and in the lives of others, knocked off their respective pedestals, to set them up to be like “wow, I get it, I get YOU and I choose YOU, with all the highs and all the lows” … and I LOVE it!! 🥹
People in this fandom tend to relate to either Penelope, Colin, (or sometimes both), and that’s awesome… but that doesn’t mean they don’t each have flaws. It also doesn’t have to become a “who hurt who more, who is more right?” - I am so uninterested in that: pain isn’t a competition.
What I AM interested and invested in is their growth, seperetly and together, and the removal of their masks to truly see and accept the other.
So yeah, y’all. It’s called a parallel, and I really hope we get loads of them in S3. 🥰
I honestly really welcome conversation and thoughts about this; I’m pretty new to the fandom, but unfortunately I have seen a lot of people (on tumblr in particular) be very “holier than thou” if they don’t agree on an interpretation, and it makes the fandom seem very unwelcoming and makes me nervous to even post things, which is pretty ridiculous. :/
Fandom gonna fandom, I guess. 🤷♀️ I just really love this show and this pairing and I’m dying for S3.
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Birdie, I have something I HAVE share with you. I was reading about how Alysanne took after her grandmother Alarra Massey in her coloring and I simply must share a plea for Lucemond’s final surprise child in misty dream. Aemond’s prayers are finally answered when he gets a dark haired girl, a child who seems to be a carbon copy of her great-grandmother Rhaenys. The other children, while shocked at the late pregnancy, are somewhat relieved with their new sister. Children always seem to give Luke an energy boost and Aemond has finally gotten his dark haired daughter, but they’re mostly relieved with the idea that there will be a daughter to care for their parents when they age. Jokes on them because all this girl wants to do in learn to fight. She’s inherited Rhaenys spirit too: proud, highly intelligent, a cold and serious demeanor, stoicism and a skill with weapons that rivals Aemond own. But also like Aemond, she has no charisma—only successfully ever charming Luke and a few siblings. No rizz to be found here, just like her kepa. In adulthood, she’s taller than all her siblings except Gaemon. She’s also a staunch loyalist to Valyrian traditions. Once she claims Meleys as a child, a fiery temper makes itself clear.
Because she’s the dark haired girl Aemond has been waiting for, the spoiling gets even worse than with the others, meaning he allows her to train with weapons. In a sad way, she becomes the child he trains and hunts with, goes over military history with, flies with the most. This is something that causes a little resentment in Aenys-it would be one thing if she simply acted like the rest of his spoiled sisters, but even as child she proves herself to have the natural bearings of an heir, despite being the youngest. This causes a really strained relationship that lasts decades. She grows up during an interesting period in for Aemond and Lucerys marriage because it’s a point in time where Aemond has really matured and learned to step back from ruling Summerhall all on his own. He and Luke split the duties more evenly now which means that when his daughter is old enough to develop her personality and hold a sword, Aemond has a lot of free time to spend with her.
However this is what causes a lot of tension with Aenys. He should be having the time of his life: he has the freedom to shadow Luke, learn to rule from him—which means he gets to spend all day with his muna. However as the new sister begins to grow, he develops this idea she’s gotten the childhood he should have had, one not stifled by Aemond’s harsh way raising his heir to be. This is a feeling he’s struggled with before with Valerion, but that was easier to stomach because his brother never found interest in what heirs should be taught. Again, this causes a lot of resentment because this girl seems to be better at everything than he was at his age, and she’s smart enough to see right through him. It gets even worse when it becomes clear that while she doesn’t have her eye on the Summerhall, she wants nothing more to be to one to inherit One Eye from Aemond; a desire that only grows when her Aunts Baela and Rhaena gift her Rhaenys copper armor after Meleys has been claimed. Aenys thought he’d be free of a sibling rivalry when Gaemon left, but this new child is even worse. She’s also unimpressed with him, which fuels his inferiority complex. It’s like having a child with the personality of your father look down on you, though the actual kid looks like your mother.
She isn’t really close with Saera, Gaemon, Naerys, or Valerion since they’re away from home due to either marriage or study, nor Daenys who is fostering at Driftmark. Despite not really knowing him, she respects Gaemon the most since he’s a knight, but clashes all the time with Rhaella since a) she’s stolen Aemond’s attention in a way Rhaella can’t seem to understand (Rhaella goes through the same thing Aenys did when Valerion was born) and b) because she finds her rash behavior/personality childish. She’s protective over Maegelle because she sees her as a the perfect kind of Lady a knight and fighter would protect (actually Maegelle and her give me sapphic opposite coloring Lucemond vibes). However the two of them will eventually come to a crossroads in that she doesn’t believe Maegelle should worship the Seven (which you’ve sort of implied she’s dedicated to?). She believes the religion to be a weakness and a danger to their House. From her extended family she admires Rhaenyra and idolizes Baela, but finds herself the happiest with Viserys since he’s the only one to keep up with her intellectually; they speak for hours whenever he and Saera visit home. (Not sure if Elaena and Daena exist here but if they do this trio raises hell).
I’m not sure if you’ve made Rhaegar and Maekar official md kids, but I have thought of some characteristics for them as well if that is not too presumptuous? I like to think Rhaegar is basically a male version of Sansa. He dreams of marrying Princess of Dorne while spending the days writing poetry. Out of the entire family, he’s the one who has copied Luke’s fashion sense the most (though he’s definitely judged for it because unlike Valerion he doesn’t share the unusual nature of their muna’s body—meaning more feminine clothing can’t be explained away). Dorne is his only hope for a accepting spouse, but also like Sansa he really wants to be an official prince of the realm and manage (not rule) a great House. He takes inspiration from romanticized stories of Luke during those early years of Summerhall in that he wants nothing more than to rear children and support his wife who will run things (something he never voices aloud). (On that note I really do think seeing Luke, a man, play the part of a mother would most definitely influence the way his sons would act with their own children. Having a son who couldn’t get pregnant but still observes the way in which a man can act as a mother does and want to emulate that (but physically couldn’t) would def be something Luke and Aemond would have to reconcile with.) When it come to material goods, he’s spoiled more than anyone. Pretty boy gets pretty things. His own egg never hatched but when they’re old enough his sister takes him on rides on Meleys. Maekar becomes Summerhall’s own little Master of Whispers (nothing he loves more than gossip and reading his parents’ mail). He’s extremely devious but hides it behind a tired facade. His own dragon hatched when he was a teen, and it’s a blue version of Caraxes, the hatchling is a permanent fixture curled around his neck. There’s no one he respects more than Luke after growing up with all the trade deals he created with Essos. (Also he’s very much a dark horse in the regard that he’s the resident slut of Summerhall—no one else seemed up to the task and he definitely inherited the horny gene from his parents. Enjoys entertaining visiting lords’ sons (Lucemond def not seeing any grandchildren from this one). Maekar has a whisp of madness worse than any of his siblings that makes itself known when he hears vitriol about his brother Rhaegar (he’s beaten one or two people to near death who’s tongue became too loose in their judgements). So this final daughter sees Rhaegar as someone to protect just like Maegelle, and Maekar is her partner in crime when she needs one. I like to think of these three + Daenys as the “Post-Essos” babies. Aka the result of when Lucemond went majorly horny whenever Luke took a business trip. Daenys after that first trip he took with Rhaella and Gaemon to Pentos, Rhaegar is after the Summer Isles, Maekar after Volantis, and this last daughter after Braavos. I like to think these cities somehow influence each kid.
Make no mistake, she doesn’t want power, she only wants to fight, hunt, fly, and debate with Aemond. Btw all this time she spends with Aemond makes her develop an obsession towards Luke, less of a muna complex and more a need to protect. Lucerys actually has a special place in his heart for her, not because she’s the youngest or because of her hair color, but because of the calm that she brings Aemond; Luke doesn’t need a friend in these later years (he’s busy enough running Summerhall with Aenys by his side) but he is indescribably happy that Aemond has finally found a friend, a person to speak to in confidence (a role his brothers never filled). I absolutely adore the idea that Viserys prepares her to be the next Hand after himself (which will definitely fuel Aenys inferiority complex for the rest of his life). It’s bitter to acknowledge, but while Aemond knows Aenys is a fine heir for his legacy, he can truly entrust the safety of Summerhall’s place in the realm in the hands of his youngest daughter, with Meleys by her side and the Hand’s pin on her jerkin. Did this whole creation come from wanting Lucemond kid that Arya, Brienne, or Lyanna would look up to? Most definitely. But I also love the idea of Aenys going through a quarter life crisis because he is threatened by a child that would so clearly make a perfect heir. The only thing for this I need is a name! I was thinking Aelora or Jaenara, or maybe Luke gets inspired after a trip to Essos and chooses Shiera? Either way, I hope this is a welcome gift. By no means am I saying ‘add this oc to your story or else.’ Just me be like, hey the vibes of your story inspired this. Adopt her, use tidbits of what I’ve written, or just ignore!
oh anon i love this !!! i always love when yall come up with your own ideas for this little universe we’ve made up !!
any daughter that looks like luke is going to be spoiled ROTTEN. aemond is older and much softer by the time she comes around so he will let that girl walk all over him. she gets anything and everything and can do whatever she wants. she shows up to her married siblings keep on dragonback when she’s bored
as for the younger boys, i always envision rhaegar and maekar as opposite personalities that still get along really well. they still follow luke like ducklings but have to be more self sufficient since luke is a busy lord now 😔 they are more eccentric and wild since they are younger children and have less responsibilities. aenys finds them a bit annoying and maegelle generally dislikes anyone that stresses her out.
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Your aemond in the morning post was beautiful, if you have any more aemond thoughts please share them!
I’m glad you liked my little ramble I have so many more Aemond thots thoughts but here’s some random Hcs for now. nsfw under the cut.
Regarding his blind side. Naturally, he positions himself in a way where he will always have the best view of everyone else, and he particularly keeps you in his line of vision as to best keep you safe.
It takes a long time and all of his trust but eventually he’ll let his partner operate in his blind side, serving as his eye in his stead.
With a partner that he’s truly in sync with it gets to a point where there are no words needed. All it takes is a shared look and you know where you are needed that day.
He's 100% attracted to power and confidence. He adores a challenge and someone that can keep up with him intellectually
yet I honestly believe the best match for him is a) someone that can keep up and b) a caretaker.
Aemond has never really had anyone that has truly unconditionally loved and cared for him in a healthy manner, and apart from his mother he is the primary caretaker of his fucked up family.
yes he needs an equal, a partner in machinations and politics but more than that he needs someone to ground him, to stop him from throwing himself into the fire.
Caring for Helaena is and his nephews is a must as well. He won't tolerate anyone around his sister that would further torment her.
if he is truly in love then Aemond is LOYAL, there will never be any bastard children sired by him if the marriage he finds himself in is one of love.
I am personally an inexperienced Aemond truther. The combination of hating his older brother's tendencies and that forced brothel experience means that until he marries he unfortunately does not fuck.
what he does do in preparation though is find any literature he can for 'research purposes.' He's a quick learner though and oh so desperate to please. he will do what you want when you want, dropping everything just for you.
as your relationship grows and he builds confidence, however, hoo boy.
TEASING. Aemond will 100% rile you up during a family dinner, when he takes you for a flight on Vhagar. He'll tease you awake when you refuse to leave bed and then just fuck off like nothing happened. Forcing you to wait until you retire for the night.
I don't see him as subby in the way Aegon 100% is. No Aemond is mostly in control, except for those few days when he's just so frustrated and exhausted that he needs you to take care of him.
I also don't truly see him as a hardcore dom, his entire life has been violence and I don't see him wanting to bring that into the bedroom and around you unless you specifically want it too.
He can definitely be rough, especially when he's in a mood but I think he'd be prone to dom drops a lot.
Aemond has a temper and he often makes rash and hurtful decisions, and on more than one occasion he has made some particularly nasty jabs towards you.
Something that he regularly grieves about and causes him to dom drop when he might spit some particularly filthy talk your way when you are craving rougher treatment.
I think it also links back to the way he has seen his brother treat women, the epitome of everything he absolutely does not want to be.
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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: trigger warning for talking about past trauma of s*xual assault. Love you x Also it might be cheap writing, but I just didn’t add in homophobia, and people of the same sex are allowed to get married.
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
🌿ENFJ
🍁Gryffindor
📜Chaotic Good
🔮Aries Sun, Capricorn Moon, Pisces Rising
SFW🌿
⭑ Sansa didn’t think she would find love. And she wasn’t actively seeking it either. After being crowned Queen in the North, Sansa did her best to heal.
⭑ And heal she did.
⭑ But Brienne had come down with a sickness that even Winterfell’s best healers couldn’t help. So your master was sent for, and you accompanied him.
⭑ As a healer in training, you wanted to learn as much as you could. You’d seen your father die from an unknown sickness and that changed something inside you. Now, you were the best in your village and wanted to learn more.
⭑ You weren’t ready for the climate of Winterfell. Even though you wore as many furs as you could, the cold still seemed to seep through. Your skin seemed to have permanent goosebumps.
⭑ You hovered over your master, writing down notes and watching the process.
“Fever, rash, shortness of breath,” he stated.
⭑ Throughout your time trying to help Brienne, Sansa came to visit every day. She asked questions about you, your work, and your family. She was curious how a woman was able to become so revered.
⭑ You didn’t realise how often Sansa had come, until your master commented on it.
“The Queen must have good advisors, with all the time visits she’s been taking.”
“She cares for Brienne. They have a strong bond,” you retorted.
“She’s the Queen in the North, her duties far surpass a sick guard.”
⭑ When Brienne was treated and on the mend, Sansa was in two minds. Relief that her trusted friend and protector was well. But she didn’t want you to leave.
⭑ And then she asked you to stay.
“My own healers couldn’t save Brienne. But you did,” Sansa said in the throne room.
⭑ Your master was asked to stay as well because Sansa knew how important learning was to you.
⭑ Was it luck? Did your master see how much Sansa cared for you? Or was the position to work under a Queen too good to give up? No matter what the reason, you both stayed.
⭑ It was somewhat hidden courting. Privacy was important to Sansa.
⭑ You didn’t mind. No one needed to know your business.
⭑ She proposed to you. Outside underneath the big tree that two of you had spent hours upon hours under.
⭑ You cried. And so did she.
⭑ Your wedding was officiated by Bran. And because Bran was on the Iron Throne, and Sansa was already Queen in the North, there was no need for a political marriage.
⭑ You both wore white, and even though Sansa wanted Jon to walk her down the aisle. You pointed out that she didn’t need anyone to walk her down the aisle. The tradition was for the ‘father to give the daughter away.’
⭑ And she wasn’t being given away. She had her agency, her independence. She wasn’t an inanimate object that was sold to the highest bidder. She was a woman. A Queen.
⭑ You both cried when you saw each other. She was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen.
⭑ Arya and Brienne were Sanas’s bridesmaids, and you had your family brought in. They absolutely loved Sansa.
⭑ Sansa had a white gold ring, amethyst, and diamonds wrapped like vines around the ring. It was stunning.
⭑ There was a big feast, and all the lords and ladies of the lands were invited. And it was one of the best nights of your life.
⭑ And no. NO ONE DIED.
⭑ You had been planning your surprise for the wedding night for months. You scowered the lands, sending scouts and messengers everywhere you could think of. With the help of as many Starks too, you finally found what you were looking for ...
A direwolf pup.
⭑ Sansa cried when she saw the little thing asleep on the bed.
⭑ You stood behind her, giving her a moment to process it.
⭑ “What will you name her?” Her voice was light, a tad slurred because of all the mead.
NSFW🔞minors dni!
⭑ Sansa was very hesitant to do anything sexual with you. Although she tries to move on from her past, it seems to creep up on her.
⭑ And you completely understood. Having similar experiences yourself, you knew how she felt.
⭑ You took things slow, and whenever something got too much - everything stopped. Neither of you wanted to make the other uncomfortable.
⭑ It would take a few goes, and even when you think the relationship had completely healed - something would arise. Because trauma never truly goes away...you just get stronger in how to deal with it.
⭑ Sansa would see sex as something sacred between the two of you. Well at first she did. But then she allowed herself to feel desire.
⭑ Sansa loves praise, she will literally melt in your hands if you called her a good girl. I definitely think she would have a daddy and mummy kink.
⭑ Oh good lord Sansa is a mess when you talk dirty to her. She cannot formulate a sentence, she just stammers.
⭑ Sansa is very much a dom, that’s where she feels most comfortable. I think after finding out that she can take control, she sees sex differently.
⭑ She loves commanding you.
“Get on your knees,” she said firmly. Her red hair undone and covering her nipples.
Your breath hitched in your throat because Sansa truly looked like a Queen.
⭑ She likes to have sex everywhere. Especially against a wall, but her favourite is in the bath. The heat envelopes both of you, your legs wrapped around each other. Both grinding up against the other’s pussy.
⭑ Tender sex makes Sansa full of emotion. The gentle caresses on her porcelain skin, and the way her blush appears on her cheeks and nose.
⭑ I also think that having light-hearted, playful sex would be very good for both of you. It doesn’t have to be serious.
#sansa stark#sansa stark x reader#sansa stark headcanons#sansa x reader#game of thrones#game of thrones headcanon#house of the dragon#house of the dragon headcanons#sansa stark x y/n#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones x you#GoT#GoT x reader#stark x reader
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Eye for an Eye III
Aerraxys Inspiration - Credit: Henrique Dld on Reddit
Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader
Synopsis: Aemond has done the unthinkable and must deal with the consequences brought onto his family.
Note: All dialogue in italics is spoken in High Valyrian.
No "y/n" mentioned
Word Count: 3,673
Chapter Warning: Angst, comfort.
General Warning: Targaryen brother/sister incestuous marriage, pregnancy, foeticide, murder, gore, torture.
AN: I've decided to extend this fic into a 4th part instead of ending it at 3. Thank you so much for the love and feedback this story has gotten. I appreciate each and every one of you! The final part will be spicy, so look out for that! As always, comments, messages, likes and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated!
House of the Dragon requests are OPEN
“Aemond…” The Dowager Queen spoke, eyes heavily suspicious of the chest that was carried in behind him and placed onto the end of the long council table. A smell immediately permeated the room, the source sitting on the table. Aemond stood just behind it, hands clasped behind his back. A lazy smirk was plastered on his lips as the entire council stood and moved away from the chest. “What is this?” Alicent placed the sleeve of her dress over her nose and mouth to try and lessen the stench.
“A gift to my dear sister during these trying times. It shall be leaving for Dragonstone shortly,” Otto was the first to move towards the chest, not away. He used the dagger at his hip to flip the unlocked latch up and opened the lid.
Dry heaves and projectile vomiting could be heard throughout the room, along with Alicent’s gasps in horror of what lay within. Otto inspected the chest’s contents quickly before slamming the lid shut.
“I should believe my sister and uncle would like their assassins returned,” Aemond explained. His gaze dared anyone to question him. “Though they will not be whole.”
"This is dark, even for you, brother," Aemond said lazily from his seat at the head of the table. A grin was on his lips, as disgusting as the scene in front of him was. "I applaud you,"
“We may be at war, boy, but we are not animals!” Otto shouted at Aemond, slamming his hand on the table. Aemond motioned for his guards to take the chest out of the room. “There is a council for a reason, Aemond! Actions cannot be taken without a majority agreeance and the King's final say!”
“Am I to stand idly by with my son slain and my wife sitting on the precipice of death?” Aemond shouted, spittle flying onto the table before him. “I call for the head of the traitor Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her entire line. I will take them myself if need be, but she and her children will suffer terribly for this.”
“I know that you are ripe with anger-” Alicent began walking around the chairs to her son.
“-You know not of which you speak, dear mother,” Aemond hissed, ripping the patch from his face. His words stopped her in her tracks. “I have been ripe with anger since the age of ten and it did not seem to bother this council -with your exception. Nor did it bother the former King any.” Aemond looked around the table at each face before him, lingering on his brother's tired yet focused eyes last. “Let it be known: I will flay every Black that crosses my path and set their hides to billow along the King’s Road.”
“You killed her son,” Otto reminded with a twisted grimace. Aemond sent him a tight glare.
“Mm…then I should’ve killed the welp long ago, it seems. It makes no difference when. The boy was destined to die by my hand.” Alicent continued her steps to Aemond and brought his hands into hers.
“We will defeat them, but cool heads are needed to prevail.” She spoke. “She is my daughter, just as she is your wife. This will not go without repercussion,” Alicent promised.
“It is your rash temper that has gotten us to this point, Aemond.” The Hand spoke, leveling his grandson with a glare. “Listen to your mother for once.”
Ser Rickard Thorne stood dutifully at the bottom step of the south staircase that led into the caverns that housed the most terrifying of creatures. No one would venture down here, not unless they had a death sentence, so he did not go any further with you.
High pitched chittering could be heard of the younger dragons from higher up in the caverns and a low rumble could be felt through your feet. Snores that could only belong to Vhagar eased the tension in your heart. She dwelled far deeper into the darkness than even Aerraxys travelled.
The flame of the torch you carried stilled in the pitch black. Venturing further, you turned down the upcoming cavern to your right.
“Aerraxys!” You called to the creature in High Valyrian, “Be calm,” A deep chittering was the response you got from the shadows. The ground shook from the creature’s mighty steps forwards. The gargantuan beast’s scales were a deep obsidian, giving it the perfect camouflage in the darkness, and under the cover of night. His bright auburn eyes, the eyes that had monitored your recovery though the window, reflected the light of your torch back to you as he leaned his head down.
The beast was not hatched from your crib as most dragons within the Targaryen line are. It was a fact that Aegon, once you were both old enough to tease, liked to throw in your face any chance he got. He would later do this with Aemond as well. His jesting, though it was deliberate, did not hurt you as much as it hurt Aemond. You would have a dragon, you knew that much.
The summer of your eighth year proved to be a summer of your will conquering over your stupidity. Your family had taken a few weeks away from the Red Keep, just as they did yearly, to stay on Dragonstone. The second your tiny foot had stepped out of the carriage, you knew in your heart that your companion would be there. A connection brewed in the salty air, like lightning from the Gods struck into your heart.
If your mother knew where you were, she would’ve had you under lock and key for the rest of your days, never to see the light of day again. In retrospect, what you did was incredibly stupid, reckless even. Donning Aegon’s clothes -a black shirt, a pair of his trousers, a cape and a pair of his boots- you snuck past the guards in the cover of night. Sneaking through the Red Keep at all hours with your brothers gave you enough practice to make your way through the Keep at Dragonstone undetected.
Adrenaline vibrated through your body as you made it to the outside of the keep facing the mighty Dragonmont. Your eyes were on a swivel as you stepped into the sand towards the beach. Though Aegon was a year younger than you, his feet had grown at a much quicker rate than yours. His boots flopped with each step, kicking up sand, but you did not allow that to slow you down.
The waves of the shore were deafening, the wind whipping your hair. Through all of this, you could still hear the flapping of wings overhead, the thunderous roar of a dragon echoing around you. Looking to the skies, you could only see a shadow, massive in its span and length, blacking out the stars above.
Fear bled into your young heart as the shadow crept lower and lower until the beast landed on the opposite side of the beach. You stood your ground, knees shaking in terror. Make no mistake, fear is what kept you rooted to the sand, not bravery.
The obsidian dragon crept forward, the leather of its folded wings flapped with the movement like unused sails of a ship. The ground shook with each step, sinking your brother’s boots further into the sand. With each step it took to you, you could see the vibrant purple flames that hid beneath the creature’s black scales, as well as the glowing coming from within its gaping maw. The moon’s glow gave the sharp, long rows of teeth a threatening glint.
The dragon stopped just before you, growling ferociously. Its hot breath was fiercer than the winds as its lips curled back. The mighty beast could swallow you in a single bite if it so chose to, of that you were astutely aware. The dragon tilted its head, observing your tiny body, wondering just what to do with you. Its glowing amber eyes watched your every breath as you stood before it, knees knocking together. The feeling you had when you stepped out of the carriage during your arrival had returned; a buzzing tendril worked its way through your veins, mixing with the adrenaline and fear.
With every fibre of your being, you swallowed thickly and looked the dragon in its massive eye. A single word left your lips, causing the dragon to still, eyes turning to slits as it assessed you further: “Dohaerās,”
Your voice was stronger than you had ever heard it in your life, unflinching, unwavering. The untamed beast brought its head as close to your face without touching you. Saliva dripped from its teeth onto your brother’s clothes and boots, the vibrations of its warning growl ricocheted through your bones. “Aerraxys,” You named it just as you had named the egg that never hatched, “Dohaerās!” You spoke louder, chin held higher. It would’ve been a magnificent sight, had anyone been around to see it. The dragon seemed to consider you for a few moments that seemed to stretch into hours, though it was mere minutes, before it lowered its head to the sand.
A breath you didn’t know you were holding exhaled from your lungs. Your eyes were as wide as the moon above at the sight before you. This dragon, Aerraxys the Night Terror as he would come to be known throughout history, had accepted you. Aerraxys’ eyes snapped open when your hand touched the scaly skin just above his mouth.
This dragon, as you’d learn, had never taken a rider in its estimated 80 years until he accepted you. Every action would be new to him, just as it was to you. When you went to climb it that very night, you saw that he did not have a saddle. That thought alone was enough to entice you, as well as terrify you. An unridden dragon was unpredictable. An unridden dragon and an unseasoned rider? A disaster waiting to happen. Still, with the tenacity that only a child could possess, you climbed the beast with the help of the spikes that lined the creatures back and flank until you nestled yourself between two spikes along his spine to give you support along your back, as well as something to wrap your cloak, Aegon’s cloak, around to hold onto as a makeshift rein.
Aerraxys turned his massive head to look at you before running down the beach without warning, his wings spread as ascended into the night sky.
Your screams of terror and delight were heard over the entirety of Dragonstone, loud enough that they had awakened the occupants of the Keep, as well as alerted the Kingsguard.
By the time you landed, your hair had crafted itself into a rat’s nest and you were missing a boot. The smile on your face nearly cracked your skull in half as you fell to the sand. Scrambling up, you bowed to the dragon, thanking it out of respect as it seemed like the thing to do.
“I feel you,” You spoke through pants of air to the dragon in your native High Valyrian, a hand held to your heart then placed on the dragon’s jowl. Your name was called far in the distance of the Keep. You whipped your head around to see the guards scouring the perimeter. The castle became more illuminated as the seconds passed. Surely your entire family would be up by now.
You fell to the sand with a startled yelp as Aerraxys pushed you forward with the tip of his snout. As you tried to gain your footing, he pushed you once more in the direction of the Keep. His snout nearly tossed you into the air as he assisted you up the steep dunes until you were on the main road just outside the gates of the Keep.
As soon as you and the Night Terror were spotted, all Hell had broken loose.
The hot exhale from his snout was a true comfort, the air blowing your messy hair back. The purr Aerraxys let out when you brought a hand to the side of his face brought a small grin to your lips. This was the first time you had gotten to see your companion without a wall between you in weeks. You brought your other hand to rub under his jaw and rested your forehead again his jowl.
Aerraxys’ origins were unknown, though the dragon keepers had theorized he was sired from Balerion the Black Dread’s lineage if the dragon’s size and coloring were to be taken into account. The dragon, even at that time of your discovery, had stood taller than Vermithor does presently at nearly one hundred years. Aerraxys was estimated to be around eighty years when you had bonded on the dunes of Dragonstone that summer nearly two decades ago. His size could not be compared to that of Vhagar, as there was no known living dragon as large as she, but he was next in line as far as size counted. Still quick and ready for flight, he still had many years left until he would begin to slow with age.
“What say you to a ride, dear friend?” You spoke in your mother tongue as you placed the torch into a holder on the wall. Your voice was harsh, dry, as you hadn’t spoken more than a word at a time in days. The dragon stretched its mighty limbs, lowering itself so you could climb its flank just as you did so many years ago. The difference now was the intricately crafted saddle that was strapped to his back that was gifted to you upon your arrival back to the Red Keep that summer.
It had been weeks since your attack. Weeks since your son was slain. Weeks since your eyes truly opened to see the scabbing scar at the top of your deflated abdomen. Future pregnancy was unlikely, the Maester had said. The damage done internally was far too great.
Prince Aelon Targaryen’s ashes were placed into the Great Sept of Baelor mere days after you had opened your eyes. The funeral was private as was your wish, just your immediate family attending. The whole of King’s Landing, as well as the surrounding kingdoms had learned of the tragic events that took place. Your grandsire made sure to spin it in such a way so as to garner as much sympathy and take as much support away from Rhaenyra as he possibly could. If you could’ve snapped your grandsire’s neck with your bare hands at that very moment, you would have.
Your son was dead before he could draw his first breath and your grandsire all but pounced on the opportunity in front of him. You looked him in the eyes as he spoke at that council meeting and knew then that Aerraxys would char the meat from his bones sooner rather than later. You’d make sure of it. Aemond had squeezed your leg in comfort from his seat to your left. Your time will come, he said without saying a single word.
As the days passed, the tendrils of madness had begun to seep into your mind. You were changed, this you knew. Sorrow, resentment, and wretched fury that only continued to grow filled your being at every waking moment. A truly dangerous combination of a woman scorned.
The torn and sore muscles of your abdomen screamed as you slowly pulled yourself up Aerraxys’ flank and to your saddle. The beast gave you a few moments to right yourself before he expertly traversed through the pitch black caverns beneath King’s Landing until he reached the opening within the cliffs above the shores on the eastern side of the city. Tears filled your eyes as you flew through the blue skies of King’s Landing. Aerraxys let out a mighty screech as he too felt the traumatic emotions that were barreling through you.
Aemond was waiting for you when you returned to the pits. As you crept out of the darkness with the torch in your hand, you encountered him in place of your newly appointed Knight. Aemond’s face was severe when he saw the struggle you tried to hide due to the pain in your belly from your overexertion.
“You should be resting,” Aemond reprimanded with worry as he met you halfway. You tossed your torch into the water barrel at the mouth of the tunnel to extinguish the flame. The candles surrounding Balerion the Black Dread’s skull illuminated the room in an intimate glow, casting enough light for the both of you. Aemond was quick to brace you, kissing the crown of your head softly.
“Resting?” You replied with a scoff, pulling back to look at him. Aemond took a good look at you as he held you at arm’s length. Your violet eyes were bloodshot, rimmed in red and taupe shadows from countless sleepless nights. Your hair, once taken care of in intricate braids, was let loose to knot in the wind. Your lips were perpetually chapped, your skin just mildly more colorful than when he saw you laying on your deathbed. Your eyes were the most alarming thing to Aemond, though. More so, the hollow look they held. Aemond brought a calloused hand up to rest upon your cheek, his thumb rubbing just under your eye to try and comfort you.
“You need your strength,” He pleaded softly, the pinched severity dropping from his features with a sigh. Aemond’s other hand came to rest gently upon your stomach as it once did, though he was mindful of the still healing wound. “Pushing yourself will not make this easier. You have not been cleared by the maesters to fly. I cannot lose you to recklessness. I’ve caused enough strife through my own for the both of us,” A heavy frown pulled at your features as you pushed his hands away and turned to look at the remains of Balerion. You did not catch the initial hurt that crossed Aemond’s features as you turned from him.
“A maester’s permission,” You spat. “I do not need a maester to tell me what I can and cannot do, Aemond. I do not need a maester to tell me to lay in bed, alone, to think of what has happened over! and over! and over! without mercy with my only thought a silent prayer for the Stranger to take me and spare me of the madness that grows within me!” You turned your head to Aemond with tears in your eyes and whispered, “You do not understand,”
“I do not understand?” He questions in the common tongue, “Weeks I have come to you, begging for your eyes to open. Weeks I have come to you, begging your forgiveness. Weeks I have come to you, begging you to speak so that I may hear your voice just once more in this wretched life. Weeks I have waited for you return to me, to know that you were still here. My heart aches for you!” He shouted in agony. The timbre of his voice as he shouted his confessions startled you.
“My heart bleeds,” He pounded against his chest with a fist, “for Aelon!” He took long strides over to grasp you by the shoulders. He held you so tightly you could not escape his grasp regardless of how much you fought against him.
“Do not think you are suffering alone,” He spat, though it was in pain and not malice. “Though I only carry the mental scars, I pray you never have to witness me as I have you, bleeding and broken upon your death bed, the Stranger creeping along the shadows! As I have witnessed my child shrouded upon the table of the Silent Sisters!” His voice was a desperate plea for you to hear as he tried to shake sense into you.
“What am I to do,” You started lowly, your voice gaining traction as you continued. “While this family does nothing?” You screamed in madness as you looked up at Aemond. Your words nearly mirrored those he spat at his grandsire during your initial recovery. Each word felt like an arrow to his chest, notched and let loose by his own hand. “Are we to wait until they strike again?” Aemond’s chest heaved, but his grasp did not wain as you struggled against him. “Wait until our nieces and nephews are slain too?” Aemond’s sharp eye narrowed as he backed you up until your back hit the stone wall roughly. He looked down at you as if you were a wild animal, ready to take a bite out of his throat at any moment. The rage you held, though not misplaced, was something Aemond had never witnessed from you. The thought made his chest tighten.
“If burning the entirety of Westros to the ground was the wise thing to do, it would have been done, dear wife!” His hand returned to your face, though it was not loving. Aemond’s rough grasp on your chin was demanding. He wanted you to listen whether you wanted to hear what he had to say or not. You trembled beneath his grasp, hands clinging to his jerkin with tight fists. “Had sieging upon Dragonstone been the wise thing to do, it would have been done!” Aemond’s face came within an inch of yours, “Do not think me weak or uncaring for not laying waste to the Seven Kingdoms because if I had the choice there would be nothing left to speak of!” His voice echoed off of the walls and down the caverns.
You both stared at each other, chests panting, until your resolve finally crumbled. Your head dropped with a strangled sob and Aemond’s grip on you loosened to pull you to his chest. His hands buried themselves in your dirty hair as he held you with everything he had. Your arms wrapped around his chest, squeezing with all your might to let him know just how badly you were hurting. Both of his hands moved to cup your cheeks to pull you back just enough to see his face. Tear tracks reflected in the glowing light.
“They will pay dearly.” Aemond spoke softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. “Through fire and blood, they will repay what they have taken. And then, we shall take more and more until there is nothing left of them. I promise you this, until my last breath, my love.”
Taglist: @wallacewillow02blog@strawbbyjamb@its-sam-allgood@krispold@multitargaryen
#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd imagine#house of the dragon imagine#hotd x reader#x reader#house of the dragon#eye for an eye series
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Commitments
elijah mikaelson x fem!reader x kai parker | requested
summary: an argument breaks out when kai learns about elijah’s plan to propose to you. he had been making these plans himself, he just hadn’t expected the other man to do it without letting him know first. luckily, you intervene mid-fight and are able to settle it between them, proposing an agreement that suits you all
tags: poly relationship, arguments, talks of marriage, happy ending, fluff
word count: 1.3k
a/n: i hate the title, but not being able to title it was the only thing stopping me from publishing the request, which i didn’t want to do, so it’s kind of a bad title and i’m sorry about that. but, i hope you like it!
The minute you leave to go to your lunch date with Rebekah, Kai confronts the other man in your life about a small box he found in his nightstand.
“What do you plan on doing with it?” He tries to square up the original after hearing it is, in fact, a ring.
“I know you spent a lot of your life locked away, but I think you know why one would usually buy a ring.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Are you going to propose to her?”
“If you must know, yes, I was planning on it.”
“You can’t do that,” he starts, only to be interrupted.
“And why not?”
“Because I was going to.”
“You must be joking. You don’t have the devotion for marriage, Malachai.”
“Maybe I do. How would you know?”
“Because I know you. We have been in this relationship for two years. We know each other just as much as we know her.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Elijah. I am devoted. Devoted to her.”
“I know you are. But what about marriage? It’s something else entirely.”
“Are you suggesting I’m not capable of it?”
“I’m merely suggesting that you are not able to handle something so binding. Marriage is a commitment.”
“I’ve been committed to your dumbass all these years.”
“You have, for her.”
“So what’s the problem then?”
Elijah sighs, “let’s not make this an argument.”
“Me? You’re the one starting shit!”
“Malachai, I-”
“And don’t fucking call me that, you know I hate it. Why do you think you get to propose to the girl we’re both dating? She can’t ride off into the sunset with you and leave me behind, and how do you know she even wants to marry you?”
“So now you’re telling her what she can and cannot do. That’s never a good sign of a healthy relationship, Mal-”
“Shut up! Stop calling me that! And I’m not telling her what to do, I’m only saying that there’s three of us in this relationship, and you can’t just break it up like that.”
“Of course we would work out the details later, but it is imperative that I-”
“No! We work out the details before we ask the life-changing decisions! And funnily enough, I was actually going to ask you about similar details when I found your little box - which, by the way, you should hide better - because I have been wanting to go out and buy my own little box for her, because I do love her, and I am willing to make that commitment!”
“It’s not a little box, Mal… Kai, it’s a ring.”
“I know that.”
“And did you just say you wanted to propose too?”
“Yes, I did. But unlike you, I care about her feelings towards you, so I wanted to ask you before I made any rash decisions.”
“I care about how she feels for you, Kai, I just planned to ask those questions pertaining to you after I asked the question.”
“Why after? Why not before? Why so secretive?”
“Kai, I’m not in the mood for doing this with you-”
“Actually, it makes so much sense. You’ve been really standoff-ish lately, and I’m guessing this is why. But why the attitude, huh? Guilt, maybe? Pity?”
“You’re taking this too far. I have not been meaning to come off a certain way. You are projecting your own fears onto me.”
“I cannot deal with your thousand year old pretentious vampire talk right now, Elijah, I-”
“Well I cannot deal with your sensitive, baby vampire feelings. So may I suggest we both end this before we drive ourselves crazy?!”
“I am not sensitive! You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
“I do, actually, quite know. And I know that you hate to admit it, but you are being sensitive, because you love Y/N so much and the thought of not having her kills you.”
“So then why are you taking her from me?! Why did you go and buy that-”
“What’s going on?!” You shout into the room, effectively shutting up the two men. You could hear their muffled yelling from outside, tension settling in your bones at the noise.
They both stop and stare at you.
“Y/N,” Elijah coughs, “I thought you were meeting with my sister.”
“Something came up so we rescheduled. Why are you two arguing?”
It’s dead silent.
“You better tell me right now. I thought we got over the two of you fighting.”
Kai wants nothing more than to spit out the truth, but the original would crucify him. Thankfully, Elijah sighs, “we are having a minor disagreement.”
“About what?”
“About you,” Kai says quietly.
“Yeah, I got that. Would someone like to expand?”
“I wanted to propose to you, Y/N,” Elijah finally admits. “But I hadn’t told Kai about this plan yet, so when he found the ring, he became upset.”
Your stomach flips, “propose? Elijah…”
“I love you, Y/N. You are the woman I want to spend my eternity with. But as it turns out, Malachai feels the same, he just hadn’t taken the same steps yet.”
“The steps?”
“I didn’t buy a ring because I wanted to make sure it was okay with him if I asked. But Elijah over here decided he’d just ask me after asking you,” Kai supplies.
“You both?”
They nod.
“Oh my god.” You sit down in the nearest chair to think. “God… I love you both, so much.”
“Would you?” Elijah starts, then continues when you look up at him, “marry one of us?”
“‘Lijah… I love you. I do want to live forever with you. But Kai, I love you, too. I can’t choose between you guys.”
“What are you saying, Y/N?”
“I’m saying I can’t marry either of you. I can’t break your hearts; I can’t commit to one; I can’t make that decision. I won’t.”
“But… you still want to be with us, right?” Kai stutters out, afraid your rejecting words are a break up.
You turn to him immediately, “of course, Kai. That’s what’s stopping me from marrying either of you. I need you both in my life. If marriage is going to divide us, I don’t want it.”
“But Y/N, it’s the opposite. It’s what brings people together.”
“‘Lijah… marriage is a binding process sanctioned by the government. We can live and love without a piece of paper telling us to do that. We can be happy just being us.”
Kai visibly softens at your words. His shoulders relax and jaw untenses. “I am just happy to be with you, Y/N. Elijah, please say you agree.”
The more traditional man takes longer to give into the idea.
“I love our relationship just the way it is,” you tell him. “And, since you already bought the ring, I will still wear it, if you want. Kai, you too. I can wear them both. As a symbol of our love, without going through all the yucky legal stuff to have it.”
Elijah sighs before smiling and agreeing. “An anti-proposal proposal. I’m for it.”
A huge smile takes over your face and you rush to hug them both. They return the favor with the same enthusiasm.
“Now, if we may, I was going to give Bex my whole afternoon, but now I have nothing to do! Might my favorite boys join me on the bed with a movie?”
Kai springs up at the word ‘movie,’ and immediately fetches popcorn and snacks. You give Elijah one more kiss, thank him for agreeing to your wishes, and then send him off to find a movie.
For the rest of the day, you lie cuddled in between your boys, sharing candy and kisses, until exhaustion settles in your bones.
“Sleep, Y/N,” Elijah mutters, “we’ve got you.”
“We love you,” Kai mumbles, half asleep himself.
You kiss both their hands, then start to drift off into a deep sleep. “I love you both, too.”
#kai parker x reader#elijah mikaelson x reader#elijah x reader x kai#elijah mikaelson x reader x kai parker#poly relationship#requested
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the most wretched of women
"I loved my children," she weeps. "You have to believe me, I loved my children."
Whether or not Medea loved her children is not the subject under debate.
"What is under debate?" asks Jason.
Why she butchered them.
"We'd like to return to the question of whether our mother loved us," chorus the twins.
"I loved them," Medea wails.
"Third person, past tense," the first boy mutters. "Cool," mutters the second.
Order!
Good.
We open on a nurse, as Medea wails her maledictions. Do we have a nurse?
"No."
This is a shambles. Fine. The nurse explains the situation: Jason, best beloved by Medea, has abandoned her marriage bed to hop into another: that of Creusa, princess of Corinth.
"Uncharitable," Jason objects.
It's how the nurse puts it. Then the couple's sons arrive, accompanied by their tutor – do we have a tutor –
"No."
– absurd. The tutor states that Medea will be exiled with her sons.
"Would've been nice," one boy says brightly. "A trip with Mom," the other adds.
"Must you?" she sobs.
I will have order!
The nurse warns that Medea is in foul mood, and for the boys to avoid her as best they can.
"Which wasn't well." "Mom has the ear of a bat and the eye of a hawk." "Possibly literally." "She saw us and started screaming – not, to be clear, totally unprecedented."
"I was at my wits' end."
"Your wits were never the problem," Jason mutters.
"Yours were," chirp the boys.
Jason sighs. "No respect."
The Chorus enters.
"We heard Medea's suffering," the women intone, "and we wanted to help. We wanted to soothe her pain."
Do you?
"No."
"I left my home and found the women of Corinth awaiting," Medea says. "I spoke to them of my pain – our shared pain, as women."
"Many women manage to live their lives without murder," observes a son.
"We endorsed her desire for revenge," the women say solemnly. "What woman would not?"
Enter Creon, king of Corinth and father to Jason's new bride. ...we don't have a Creon?
"No."
Jesus.
Creon summarily exiles Medea; he doesn't know what her plans are, but he knows she's up to something bad.
"I begged him to exile me tomorrow, and give me time to set my affairs in order," Medea says. "To make arrangements, if not for my own safety, then for my children."
"We know how that worked out," mutter her children.
Creon concedes, though he knows he'll regret it. Medea is given until sunrise for a reprieve.
"I turned to the crowd," says Medea coolly. "Explained my plans: to murder Jason, and his princess, and her father, all together."
(Pause.
There's a noteworthy bit here. When Medea states her intention to murder three people – line 453, if you're following at home – her only hesitation is the following: θανοῦσα θήσω τοῖς ἐμοῖς ἐχθροῖς γέλων. "[If I am not clever] I will die, and my enemies would laugh."
That's interesting.
Moving on.)
Plotting three murders in broad daylight. Risky.
"They're only a Chorus. They couldn't stop me."
"Indeed, we sang of the honor Medea would bring us," intones the Chorus, "by taking vengeance on her wretched lover. We were fools."
Enter Jason.
"I explained to Medea that she was being selfish," Jason says. "That had she not been so rash, so fickle, we would all have gained from my marriage to Creusa."
Medea laughs bitterly. "And I explained my position: that of a woman who had sacrificed everything, done the unforgivable time and time again, alienated everyone who had ever loved her or ever would, for the sake of one man. I butchered my baby brother for you, Jason. I slit his throat and threw pieces of him over the side of the Argo so that my father's ships would slow to catch his organs in their fishing nets, so they could give him a proper burial. I tricked three beautiful girls into slaughtering their royal father and making him into a stew. No one but you would ever have me. We were made for each other, Jason."
"I paid you back a dozen times," Jason insists. "I brought you to Greece from your barbarian homeland. You were able to make a name for yourself as a brilliant witch – fame that you could capitalize on, if you weren't so stubbornly committed to tying me down. And just because I was fucking Creusa instead of you, you thought I was betraying you! I was going to make us rich!"
"That makes sense," says the Chorus.
"What are you talking about?" Medea asks wildly.
Enter Aegeus.
"We don't have an Aegeus," Medea snaps. "And I'm not done! Were you not just telling me that in killing him I'd restore honor to all womankind?"
A murmur of assent from the Chorus.
Medea grips her head in both hands. "Then – what makes sense about what he's saying? He calls my home barbarous, he says I should capitalize on my fame instead of tying him down, he says cheating isn't a betrayal if it makes him rich?! What the fuck are you talking about, that makes sense?!"
The Chorus hesitates.
"It does seem strange," says one chorister. She's shushed by the rest.
Enter Aegeus. He says that he visited the Oracle at Delphi to find a cure for his infertility.
"Oh, yes, and I told him I'd help him if he provided me safe harbor," Medea says. "And – and then I decided. Then I knew. That I had to kill them. My sons."
"Now who doesn't make sense?" asks one son. "Walk us through your process here, Mom," says the other.
"I –" Medea hesitates. "What do you want me to say? I had to hurt him. As badly as I possibly could."
The next scene -
The secondborn speaks up. "Dad comes in, you pretend to love him again and tell us to deliver our new stepmother a beautiful gown and tiara. Let's jump to lines 902-903, though. You call us out to embrace our father, and – you hesitate. O my children, will you continue to embrace me like this as long as you live?" "We didn't," adds the firstborn.
Medea's lips thin. "A moment of weakness."
"You have a lot of them." "In fact, over the course of the next few scenes you're downright schizophrenic." "Five times." "Five times you change your mind."
"I'm a weak person," Medea grits out. "It comes of being a woman."
Yes, there's a recurring thread of virulent Athenian sexism throughout the work, but that really isn't it.
"Maybe you just kept noticing –" "– over and over –" "– that you didn't have a reason?"
"I had to hurt him," Medea insists.
The children laugh. "Would stealing his children really hurt him that much less than murdering them?" "Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face."
(If I may interject.
Here's where my aside earlier comes into play. At the beginning of her final face/heel turn, Medea says: καίτοι τί πάσχω; βούλομαι γέλωτ᾽ ὀφλεῖν ἐχθροὺς μεθεῖσα τοὺς ἐμοὺς ἀζημίους. "But what is this? Do I wish to suffer the mockery of those I despise?"
Medea's greatest fear is laughter.
She must kill Creusa, or she'll be laughed at. She must kill her sons, or she'll be laughed at. I can't help but think of Carrie, the prom dress and the pig's blood and everyone laughing, laughing, laughing…
I have a friend who says that tragedy and horror are in many ways the same thing, that the real and fundamental difference is that horror is unreal. Horror could never happen to you; tragedy is something that happens every day.
Medea's story is both tragedy and horror. The people who love you could leave. Stop loving you. Abandon you, throw you to the wolves. It happens every day. It is a tragedy, what happens to Medea. But Medea is, herself, the horror. She takes what happened to her and twists it, shatters it, makes it a monster and sets the monster loose. All so that no one can laugh at her.
No one is laughing now.
No one will ever laugh at Medea.
Is that what she wanted?
...back to the action.)
Next scene. The Chorus mourns the children. Then they mourn for Creusa. Then they mourn for Jason. Then they mourn for Medea.
The Chorus shifts uncomfortably. Medea glares at them.
The Tutor returns with the boys. He tells Medea that the gift was well received, and the boys will be accepted by their new stepmother and raised alongside her own children.
Medea spits on the ground. "And so I freeze my heart. I must kill them."
As the boys mentioned, you change your mind five times. Back to the Chorus, which bemoans childbirth in general.
One member of the Chorus, the one who broke ranks before, stomps her foot. "I can't believe this! This – this isn't about fundamental womanhood, she's murdering her fucking kids! I –"
"Am I not a woman," Medea hisses. The Chorus nods.
"It doesn't matter that you’re a woman if you're murdering your fucking kids!" the lone chorister insists.
Order.
A messenger tells Medea of the gruesome death of Creusa and her father.
The boys' eyes are hollow. "And she takes her blade in hand." "And she comes through the door." "And she hunts us down." "And..."
The Chorus wails.
The lone chorister breaks. "I can't take this! I'll – I -"
A single member of the Chorus does, actually, say that she will stop this, when she hears the boys cry out.
"Yes! I – I have to stop her!"
The Chorus' hands grab her wrists, her ankles. She is held in place.
She does not move.
"Why?" she whispers, going suddenly slack.
Throughout the play, the Chorus serves to contextualize events. They chide Jason for abandoning his bride. They agree with Medea that what has been done to her is beyond the pale, and encourage her to take revenge on Jason. Once she talks about her plan to slaughter her children as well, they turn to naysayers, pleading with her not to do it. But, crucially, they can't do anything about it. Medea ignores them. Jason ignores them. They cannot influence events; they can only watch, and speak, and cry.
"I arrive at the house, sword in hand," Jason says dully.
"I exit, with my sons' bodies, in a chariot drawn by dragons," Medea says. "A gift from my divine father, Helios. I will bury the children myself; never again will Jason see them, or touch their skin."
"Thus the gods approve this wretched act," says the Chorus. The lone chorister is, by this point, weeping.
The pair snipe at each other pointlessly.
The play concludes with Medea flying away, and Jason leaving the stage. A final stanza, generally agreed to be an interpolation by a later, lesser playwright, declares: πολλῶν ταμίας Ζεὺς ἐν Ὀλύμπῳ, πολλὰ δ᾽ ἀέλπτως κραίνουσι θεοί: καὶ τὰ δοκηθέντ᾽ οὐκ ἐτελέσθη, τῶν δ᾽ ἀδοκήτων πόρον ηὗρε θεός. τοιόνδ᾽ ἀπέβη τόδε πρᾶγμα. "Many things Zeus has in Olympus, many are the unexpected things that come to pass; what men expect is not what happens, but the gods bring about something else. Such is the outcome of this story."
You might ask yourself... what the fuck?
Medea murders her children. No one does anything about it; no one can do anything about it. She comes out via the Machinus, the part of the stage reserved for the gods, riding a chariot given to her by the gods, tacit evidence of their approval – not only that, she makes it explicit. The gods care less about her murdering her own innocent children than they do about Jason jilting her.
It's not a satisfying ending by any means. But how could you possibly end a play like this? A play where human beings make each other suffer in the worst ways possible, for the sake of their own worst selves. A play where the only characters we don't loathe are the Chorus, incapable of action, and a pair of children who don't even speak in the original text until they're being murdered.
Maybe the only way to end it is not to end it.
To say that, ultimately, life goes on, no matter what atrocity has just occurred. No matter that the gods love best those who do evil; no matter that a man's life has been ruined, even if it was earned. No matter that Medea has slaughtered her children, that the king is dead, that everything will stay broken.
The thing about life is that it keeps happening until it doesn't.
#medea#euripedes#analysis#short story#...sort of#this is another piece from the same class as ''ashes to ashes again'' and the piece ''white hair sends black hair away'' on my ao3#it... might not make a ton of sense if you haven't read medea#on the other hand it might not make a ton more sense if you have
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Arianne's first chapter in The Winds of Winter has her traveling to meet Aegon. Look close and it is basically full of passages pointing to where her story goes and her future with Aegon.
Spoilers for The Winds of Winter below
Poison, thought Arianne. Yes. Pretty poison, though. That was how he’d fooled her. Gerold Dayne was hard and cruel, but so fair to look upon that the princess had not believed half the tales she’d heard of him. Pretty boys had ever been her weakness, particularly the ones who were dark and dangerous as well. That was before, when I was just a girl, she told herself. I am a woman now, my father’s daughter. I have learned that lesson.
Arianne admits a weakness for handsome boys, especially Gerold Dayne with his quasi-Valyrian features that her thinking her "children would be as beautiful as dragonlords."
She also said that she is her father's daughter now. However, one must note that Doran has two distinctions. First is making plans that end up being "smashed to pieces" with his plans to marry his kids to Targaryens and get them crowned like Arianne's betrothal to Viserys and Quentyn's quest to marry Daenerys. Arianne already has that trait when her ill-advised plot to crown Myrcella went predictably sideways. The second is the that his marriage was "the only rash thing he ever did," marrying someone from Essos who was much younger (like Aegon) only for that to turn out poorly.
That was troubling too. Ser Arys Oakheart had broken his vows for her, but it did not sound as if Jon Connington could be similarly swayed. Can I match such a man with words alone?
However, she still hasn't entirely learned from her failed plot to crown Myrcella. She still uses seduction to manipulate men into achieving her political goals. Whenever Cersei did it, also a firstborn duaghter trying to prove herself worthy of her father's legacy, it always ended up backfiring on her. Lancel ended up confessing to both High Septons. She slept with all three Kettleblacks, and used it to get Osney to false confess sleeping with Margaery to the High Septon only for the latter to catch on, and find out about Cersei's adultery through torturing Osney. She slept with Jaime, and it results in her three children that causes the War of Five Kings.
While Connington clearly won't be swayed by Arianne's charms, there is someone who might. Why sway the Hand when you can sway the king? Aegon is described by Tyrion as "half a boy" as Ser Arys was, and he is still very much a child, a teenager who is very inexperienced even compared to Jon and Danaerys who are around his age. Aegon has also shown himself to be easily influenced by others as when Tyrion influenced his decision to sail west without Daenerys. Arianne could possibly seduce the young Aegon.
It was true, she had resented Quentyn for all those years that she had thought their father meant to name him as his heir in place of her, but that had turned out to be just a misunderstanding. She was the heir to Dorne, she had her father’s word on that. Quentyn would have his dragon queen, Daenerys.
In Sunspear hung a portrait of the Princess Daenerys who had come to Dorne to marry one of Arianne’s forebears. In her younger days Arianne had spent hours gazing at it, back when she was just a pudgy flat-chested girl on the cusp of maidenhood who prayed every night for the gods to make her pretty. A hundred years ago, Daenerys Targaryen came to Dorne to make a peace. Now another comes to make a war, and my brother will be her king and consort. King Quentyn. Why did that sound so silly?
Almost as silly as Quentyn riding on a dragon. Her brother was an earnest boy, well-behaved and dutiful, but dull. And plain, so plain. The gods had given Arianne the beauty she had prayed for, but Quentyn must have prayed for something else. His head was overlarge and sort of square, his hair the color of dried mud. His shoulders slumped as well, and he was too thick about the middle.
Arianne's thoughts on Quentyn reveal that despite her claiming that she put her resentment towards Quentyn behind her, she still does harbor an internal rivalry with her brother. She finds the idea of him as King silly, and compares herself to him in physical appearance with her describing him as plain and unattractive while she herself is beautiful.
She also mentions her forebear princess Daenerys whom it is clear she aspired to in terms of beauty. Though Daenerys married Maron Martell to make a peace, it was said that it was also a major reason for the bastard Daemon I Blackfyre to launch his rebellion. Rather than peace, Dorne ended up getting involved in the war between the black and red dragons. Arianne herself is a parallel to Daeneyrs: a princess who has a love interest who still pines for her in the form of the prodigious knight who also happens to be a bastard named Daemon. If she marries a prince as well, Aegon, she will involve Dorne in his war when House Blackfyre fights House Targaryen.
"They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died."
Teora being the Cassandra, the red-headed seeress whose prophecies go unheeded and scorned gives a prophetic warning to Arianne. Cassandra warned Paris not to go to Sparta just as Teora's dream warns about what will happen should Arianne go to Aegon, but like Paris, ignores it as she later does Daemon's warnings.
Paris goes to Sparta and elopes with Helen, resulting in the Trojan War that brought about Troy's destruction. Arianne goes to meet Aegon, and should she marry him, she will bring about her Dornish kingdom's destruction, the one thing her father tried to avoid his whole life.
#asoiaf#house targaryen#house martell#house blackfyre#aegon vi targaryen#aegon blackfyre#sunspear#dorne#arianne martell#doran martell#the winds of winter
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#11
“I must thank you for rescuing my daughter,” the king announces to the knight kneeling at the foot of his throne. “I have been waiting years for her to return to me. Your reward must be higher than the stars in the sky, knight.”
“My reward is knowing she is home safe, your highness,” the knight replies quickly. The princess hadn’t been particularly grateful for her freedom, and had complained the entire way back, saying the saddle was uncomfortable or the sun too hot or the road too bumpy or the tavern they stopped in too full of commoners. She’s not even here for the money anymore – the job is done and she just wants out.
“No, no, don’t be ridiculous!” The king waves her off with a sigh, standing from his throne to trundle down the steps towards her. “I would be honoured to know a knight of such a calibre is protecting my daughter.”
The knight has to hold back a horrified choke at his words. “Oh, no disrespect your highness, but I can assure you there are other knights more fitting to be a personal guard for her. I have to–”
The king stops her with a curt raise of his hand, and she immediately goes quiet. “Of course not, knight.” He huffs a laugh, motioning for her to stand. “The highest dignity I can bestow upon you is her hand in marriage.”
The guard outside the princess’s door doesn’t think twice as the knight passes him to enter. The next in line is sprawled on the four-poster bed with the lowest amount of decorum she’s ever seen in a member of the royal family, flipping lazily through a book in front of her. The knight clears her throat loudly to announce her presence, and the princess shrieks like there’s an assassin coming at her. The lack of response from the guard outside makes her think that the princess reacts like this more often than not.
“Oh, it’s you,” she says with a hint of exasperation. “What?”
“Uh.” The knight can’t believe she’s the one having to break this news. “Your father wants me to… marry you.”
The princess rolls on her bed to hoist herself more upright, meeting her gaze with a mix of dismay and disgust. “He what?”
“Apparently he wants me to be your sole protector or something.” She steps further into the room to lean against one of the posters supporting the bed. “I can assure you I don’t particularly want this either.”
“No shit I don’t want this!” The knight flinches at the barbarity of her words. “Why would he say that? I don’t like you!”
“Feeling’s mutual,” is all the response she gets, and she lets out a deep groan of annoyance.
The princess hauls herself to her feet with a resolute “ugh!” before crossing her room and throwing the wardrobe door open. “Well, I’m not marrying you.”
The knight watches as she lugs a seemingly random bundle of clothes out of the closet. “I think the king tends to get what he wants, princess.”
“Not if his daughter can help it.” She pulls a dirty bag out from under her bed, grimacing at the mud it drops on the covers as she sets it down. “I’m not hanging around to get married to someone I don’t even like.”
“Princess,” the knight starts slowly. She’s trained in military surprises, but as she watches the woman shove oversized clothes into the satchel she knows she’s out of her depth. “Maybe you should speak with your father before you do anything rash.”
“As if I’m going to reason with a man who tries to hand me off to the first person to do him a favour.” The bag is closed with a heartless thunk. “Now, I am going to use these sheets to climb out this window and not get married. I won’t survive in the big wide world alone - my dad refused to teach me how to fight. Hurry up.”
The knight watches in a fog of confusion and dread as the princess ties some of her sheets together and launches them from her window, dropping the satchel out ahead of her. She hefts a leg over the windowsill resolutely, glancing back at the woman still watching her from inside the royal room she’s never going to see again. “If at any point you try to go behind my back and tell my dad, I’ll shank you.”
And with that she dips out of sight, leaving the knight to dumbly follow behind her.
#writing#creative writing#writing community#writers on tumblr#writblr#fantasy writing#princess x knight#wlw#sapphic#bro why does everyone in my class want me to do production design. im fightin for my LIFE over here i dont have TIME#if i disappear off the face of the earth for a while its because im making design plans for 3 different films. stand by
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After a few hours of conversation between Eli and the two maestros, Tempo's magical artifact trembles slightly, signaling that it is time to use its power to return to the key moment that will prevent Elicia's tragedy.
Eli hands the completed watch to Tempo and the maestro attaches the protective casing. A small bow and with the watch in front of Elicia, she lets loose the phrase to whom all the vicitors to the test tell them.
"Elicia Gutierrez, I grant you the power to change destiny as a second chance.
Please, the blue light you must touch."
Eli determined touches the center of the watch and the time goes back. Balan stood there contemplating as time moves backward in film form in a dark expanse, for this is the first time the WonderWorld maestro has seen this spectacle in person.
"Amazing, Tempo's power is off the charts. What a show like this for reference will do me, haha!"
The clock stops after reaching the key point and Tempo puts her watch away.
"Eli...I congratulate you on your decision to take this test and also..."
"...For passing the Balance test."
Balan gives a bow dance and removes his hat, thus revealing his face.
"Ah"-Eli was so astonished that she froze for a moment.
"Eli?"-Balan approaches with an expression of doubt and concern for the visitor's astonishment.
"Dumb Balan!"
"What? Why?"-exalted the man at Eli's little tantrum.
"If you had revealed that handsome face, I would have preferred to be your wife and get you out of here!"
Eli approaches and flirts Balan with her gaze. Tempo didn't hold back letting out a few laughs and Balan was already feeling that awkwardness because the woman looks so much like Tempo physically that it was seeing the maestro herself.
"But Elicia Gutierrez, how can you say that! You're a married woman!"
Eli, with a sneer, pulls out of her jacket pocket her wedding ring and places it on her left hand index finger and shows it off to the maestros . Balan already knew this, but Tempo, who didn't dare to fully see Eli's life, ended up finding out at the end of the test.
"Oh, so you married .... with Margaret!"
"What? Balan, you know her?"-Eli's eyes widen in surprise.
A light laugh comes from the maestros and they look at each other, then at Eli-"We're maestros and we knew millions of people. Margaret we remember for her tantrums about marriage, but hey, don't tell her anything." Balan gestures for silence.
"Ho~hohohohoho~, the trouble she gave us over the engagement ring..." Tempo laughed as she agreed on the challenge they both had and that she grew fond of her despite Margaret's stubborn nature at the time.
Eli, relieved, let out a thin smile proud of her current wife.
"I'm glad Maggy's changed, and even more so since we adopted our little girl."
"Oh my stars, I'm an aunt! Balan!!!-Tempo shouts in excitement and shakes Balan by grabbing his left arm. Balan stops her with a small smack on the girl's head. The older sister was excited about so many things that her sister did throughout her life and were not shown in the opportunity test due to certain priorities.
Calmly, Tempo looks proudly at her sister, for the present she built with Maggie.
"I hope someday getting to know them better is possible."
"I hope so, sister."
Tempo clasps her hands to her chest and could feel her heart pounding inside her maestro suit.
"Ever since I came here, I knew that no one knows what the future will hold for us of challenge, but if we are able to change it if.."
"Sis..."
The pocket watch starts to chime. It is time for departure. Eli hugs her sister, and Alicia kisses on Eli's forehead.
"Eli, you are a wonderful and brave woman. Please take care of yourself and also think that there are people who love you like me, mom, your wife and your daughter...don't make rash decisions and talk about your doubts and fears with them, that's why you appreciate them so much."
Tempo hugs Eli tightly as Eli hugs Tempo. The maestro lets out a sigh and murmurs sadly, "If I could have been with you, I would have taken care of you as best I could and given you advice...but my role in WonderWorld prevents it. I implore you not to do crazy things, like I did."
"Yes, sis."
Eli separates from her big sister and hugs Balan.
"Balan, I thank you so much for taking care of my sister. I know now that she is not alone. You are with her through everything and thank you for giving us the time to talk to her."
"I insist to ask you not to take action without thinking about it first. Take care of yourself and be happy and maybe we will see each other again if your heart becomes unbalanced."
"Yes."
Eli turns away from the maestros and Tempo lets out a shout.
"Eli!"
"Sis?"
"Eli, please be Nicolas' big sister that present I couldn't be. I too would have loved to meet him and give him the love like the one I was barely able to give you..."
"-Alicia..."-the moved Eli tried to avoid crying again so as not to regret leaving Alicia.
"Whatever it is, we will always be siblings, after all, the three of us will always be Rosario Gutierrez's children. Consider that please, Eli."
"Hehe, I'm an unselfish person, but I'll do it for you. I love you sis."
"And I love you, my Ladybug."
Eli walks through the door and disappears inside in front of the blanket of light.
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The Lost Flute - Part 7 (Welcome to the Family)
Despite Krishna's best efforts to hide the appearance of the slayer of Shambara from Rukmini, by the time he reached her quarters, the queen's attendants had already informed her of the court proceedings. Upon returning to his chambers after setting up the boy in a guest room, Krishna found his wife sitting on his bed, fuming. "I was coming to you just now, Vaidarbhi-" Krishna began, but Rukmini cut him off. Krishna was somewhat taken aback to see his first wife's temper. He was used to Satyabhama's outbursts and Jambavati's cutting remarks, but he had never seen Rukmini so much as annoyed in all these years of marriage. He slumped down onto the couch, resigned to facing her well-deserved wrath.
"So Devarshi proposed, and you accepted without so much as a single word in protest? What is the use of your strength and valour, if you will dance to the tunes of any random person that walks into your parliament? Is your grandfather not the King of this land? What is the use of that Nandaka sword if it could not even protect the only son of its master?" She cried, "Is this why I left behind my family, my friends and my entire life? For you to bring home any random child and make me call it my blood? You should have left me to die by the sacred fire of my marriage to Shishupala, then. It was better than enduring this abject humiliation at the hands of your people!" Krishna desperately shook his head, his own throat heavy with emotion. He hated to see Rukmini so distraught.
Krishna tried to hold her close, but Rukmini swatted his hand away. She was breathing heavily, drowned in a deluge of conflicting emotions. The logical part of her brain understood her husband's predicament, but before her eyes, the empty crib in the centre of her bedroom kept floating. Krishna whispered to her, "I'm begging you to once consider the situation sans emotion Rukmini, I truly don't have a choice! If this news gets out of the palace, the people will revolt. I can fight any enemy that dares attack our kingdom, but I cannot suppress the infighting forever. If there's a revolt, it will draw a wedge in the Yadava family as well, Dwarika will be left a bloody wasteland, and enemy kingdoms will swallow Mathura whole!"
"Have I kept you prisoner Krishna?" Rukmini retorted, "You go do whatever you want! Make whomever your son, why do you make this farce of asking for my permission? Did you ask me before rushing off to the forest after that cursed gem? Did you ask me before bringing home two wives right on the heel of making me think I'd lost you without so much as a single message? If you did not need my permission then, you do not need it now. I have accepted that I'll always be alone here, cut off from my father and brothers and everything else that I know and love. You all cannot hurt me more than this!"
Krishna sat with his head lowered. He could not refute her accusations. It was true that he had been rash in all these instances. He had always been grateful for Rukmini's calmness. In fact, in doing so, he had almost forgotten that she was born a princess, and was raised to be a queen. She had perfected the art of hiding her emotions behind an icy demeanour. Krishna now regretted having taken her stoic silence as acceptance rather than the swirling silent resentment that had exploded at this last betrayal.
"I am sorry," He whispered, "That it came to the point of you having to spell it out for me. I should have understood your pains a long time back,"
Rukmini stared off into the distance with no indication that she heard him. Looking at her, Krishna sighed. "Vaidarbhi, I accept my part in the injustice done to you. I am truly sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't air your grievances freely to me. However, please consider Devarshi's proposal. Do not reject it out of anger for me. The issue has become bigger than either you or me, and as members of this wretched family, like all our predecessors we must make sacrifices." Krishna sighed and shook his head, "And as much as we call it a proposal and sugarcoat it, it is in fact an order: a motion passed in parliament. To reject it would be to openly defy the established government. It will give a free pass to our opposers to launch a public offence. However, Vaidarbhi, whatever you choose, I'll be at your side, but I will not be able to control the consequences."
Krishna and Rukmini sat in silence, facing each other as the sun travelled across the horizon, settling over the ocean bed, colouring it crimson. Finally, Rukmini spoke, as the last rays of the sun highlighted her cheeks, glossy from exhaustion, "Despite everything, Krishna, I have vowed to be at your side no matter what. I chose you as my life partner simply by hearing of your wise judgement. If you have accepted this proposal so easily, there must be something special in the boy. Something which convinced you to pull him out from the slums and install him as the future ruler of the Yadavas. I will accept Devarshi's proposal, but on two conditions. First, I must be allowed to meet him before any official proceedings, and second, the boy must marry my niece, brother Rukmi's daughter. I wish to reestablish the channel of communication with my brother." She turned her face, "I need my family to endure yours."
Krishna swallowed in apprehension, "Vaidarbhi, that is quite a radical proposal! Your brother was prepared to take your life in order to spite me. Do you not want some time to think this through? You know your wish is my command, but I must urge you to think of your own safety."
"These are my conditions, swami. Take it or leave it." Rukmini walked out of the room leaving Krishna deep in thought.
---
Upon placing Rukmini's conditions to the parliament Krishna had been surprised to find how quickly the sabha had agreed. Only Balarama had objected, going so far as to declare that he would slay Rukmi if he did as much as to lay a foot on the soil of Dwarika. Krishna had barely managed to calm him down at the moment. However, what none of them had expected was for the young Manmatha to object. The boy spoke clearly, cutting down every logic the parliamentarians presented in favour of his adoption.
Finally, Krishna had to pull him aside to inquire what his actual issue with the proposal was. Which orphan would choose to reject the proposal that would catapult him to the top of the royal food chain?! The boy, softening a bit on account of the individual attention from his proposed father, had admitted that he was afraid of losing his caretaker, Mayavati.
Krishna had been surprised anew by how similar they were. Manmatha had whispered to him, "I know how these royals take care of the family in cases such as ours. Tell me, why have you never gone back to your old village? Why do your so-called parents need to make an appointment to see you? You must know how I feel! If I become your son, I'll never see Maya again!"
Krishna had been taken aback by the boy's direct words, and the desperation in his eyes. The boy had caught the thread of his inner battles with such ease. He was willing to give up the chance of ruling an entire country out of the love he had in his heart. Could Krishna have not done the same, those many aeons ago? Krishna had made up his mind right then to protect his interests at all costs, even if it meant clashing with either Rukmini or Balarama. As he walked the boy back to his seat, he had already formulated a plan.
Addressing the parliament with his quintessential smile he had spoke, "My Lords, Manmatha agrees to our proposal if one desire of his is fulfilled. He has formed quite an attachment to the young lady he grew up with," he laughed indulgently, "and wishes for her to become his better half, united in matrimony. Lady Mayavati is the perfect blend of wit and dignity and is the perfect choice for the future queen of the Yadavas. Assisted further by princess Rukmavati of Vidarbha and under the careful guidance of devi Rukmini, she will bring great happiness and prosperity to our great kingdom. I hope you will extend to this young family the same love that you have showered upon me and my better halves."
As he sat down, he glanced above at the balcony, where Rukmini sat with her attendants. As her eyes met his, Krishna attempted to send a silent apology, but Rukmini simply shook her head and looked away. Krishna forced himself to focus on the sabha, vowing to rectify the situation with his wife later. Manmatha, like the rest of the sabha, sat with his mouth agape. Marry the woman who was practically his mother?! A wave of gasps went around the sabha, most members shaking their heads, and some openly mocking Krishna.
Krishna, still smiling brightly, whispered to Narada, "Devarshi, I kept my end of the bargain, I convinced my wife. Now it's on you to bring it home." Narada smiled and nodded. He called upon Mayavati who had been fidgeting by the gate that led to the balcony. He led her to the centre of the podium, and spoke to the crowd, "Gentlemen, this is no ordinary woman that stands before you. She has been blessed by Lord Shiva himself, in a previous birth, to become a companion to Lord Pradyumna, and rule over Dwarika alongside him as his better half. Say, who are we to argue with the almighty? I move that we complete all legal proceedings regarding the young Lost Pradyumna's adoption immediately, and then organize a great festival for his marriage to the devis Mayavati and Rukmavati! Who's with me?"
Understandably, at the mention of the almighty, most hands in the sabha went up in favour. Satyaki rushed down to the young boy. Lifting Manmatha atop his shoulders he and his attendants went out to celebrate his integration into the family. Krishna stole a glance at the balcony in the middle of the chaos, but Rukmini along with her maids had already left.
---
In accordance with Rukmini's ask, Krishna escorted Manmatha to the royal gardens himself in order for him to meet her. Mayavati followed them hesitantly from a little distance behind. Krishna had wrapped his arms around the boy. Within a short span, Krishna had grown somewhat fond of him. Not only was he a highly skilled warrior, but he was also polite and intelligent. Even Balarama seemed to be charmed by his manners by the end of it.
At the far end of the garden, Rukmini was seated atop a grand throne. Krishna was mildly surprised to see her poise. Rukmini had adorned herself with the most luxurious of the silks that she owned. Her petite frame seemed to be dripping with gold and pearls, and on her chest, sitting proudly, Krishna spotted his famous kaustubha. On her face, she wore a proud smile that was unlike anything Krishna had ever seen. On either side of her sat Satyabhama and Jambavati, squirming in their seats. When their eyes met, both of them shot apologetic looks at Krishna. At her feet, sat the coy Rukmavati, who had been summoned to Dwarka already. She immediately turned and hid her face once she saw Manmatha approaching. Behind Rukmini stood Subhadra, looking worried.
Looking upwards, on the balconies, Krishna spotted Devaki and Rohini looking down curiously, with Yashoda lurking a little further away. Vasudeva's other wives had also flocked along with the very old Queen Padmavati, King Ugrasena's wife, who had made a rare appearance to see her newfound great-grandson. Krishna and Balarama's other brothers and cousins had also come down to see the spectacle.
Manmatha walked up close to her and bowed, offering his respects to Rukmini and the other queens. Subhadra quietly came down and led Mayavati to the balcony. Rukmini smirked briefly at them but quickly turned to face the young man.
"I heard you had a gift for me." She spoke calmly, looking into his eyes. Manmatha sputtered, having been caught off guard. Rukmini continued smiling, but her eyes had hardened, "Something that you were very eager to offer to me. I would like to see that." Krishna tried to intervene, but Rukmini held out a hand to stop him.
"I'm sorry, devi, I was imprudent. I should not have created such a scene. I promise this will never happen again!" He apologized, his head bowed.
"Let him go, Rukmini, he's a child. He made a mistake, and he apologises." Krishna spoke, "I'll apologize on his behalf if you so command, devi!"
Rukmini's eyes were still stone-cold, almost drilling a hole into the boy's head, "I think my command was pretty clear, swami." She said. Her eyes seemed to play a game with Krishna. You're not the only one who can be tough, they seemed to say.
Krishna sighed and sent off an attendant, as everyone stood awkwardly trying to avoid Rukmini's gaze.
Once they brought the severed head, soaked in a vat of oil, Rukmini only glanced at it for a second before turning her gaze back to Manmatha. "Why have we put it in this container, instead of displaying it in the town square?" She asked.
Manmatha nervously looked down at his feet.
Krishna came forward, "Out of common decency, devi. Shambara might be a demon; he might have hurt us beyond repair, but he also had a family, and we would like to return his mortal remains without disrespecting them."
Mayavati who had been standing quite fearfully to the side ran up to Rukmini, and fell at her feet, scaring Rukmavati, who had already heard the many rumours surrounding this mysterious lady, causing her to jump to her feet. Mayavati looked up at Rukmini, "Please, mother, he only meant to do well. He never intended to hurt you, please do not punish him for his childish mistakes! He never meant any disrespect! He adores you and looks up to you like a mother figure. He fell in love with you the very day when he saw you playing with the children at some charity event. I know he will never replace your son, but he has always loved you from afar like a mother. When he heard of the terrible tragedy, he was determined to hunt down the demon with his bare hands! And if you're upset because of me, please do not be. If you command I will go away forever, and the princess will remain his sole queen. I have never wished to marry him or be a queen, I'll be satisfied by his happiness alone."
Rukmini felt a pang in her heart at this woman's words. She seemed to break out of a trance, as she looked at the boy properly for the first time. She almost couldn't believe the sight before her eyes. The boy who could defeat even the God of war in battle seemed to be trembling like a leaf before her. How much he must look up to her, that her mere indifference caused him this much pain! Rukmini could not believe herself. As she stared at the vat of oil, the long-dead Shambara's round, red eyes seemed to mock her. He didn't only succeed in snatching her child from her, he also took her mercy. Rukmini couldn't bear it any longer, she turned and rushed into the palace.
Krishna ran behind her. As they reached a secluded corner of the palace, Rukmini finally broke down in his arms, sobbing into his embrace. She kept apologizing to him and the young boy in a feverish rush, as Krishna tried to console her. On Krishna's signal, the servants and other family members dispersed into other parts of the palace to give them some privacy.
Eventually, Rukmini fell asleep in Krishna's arms, exhausted from the ordeals of the past year and a half.
When she awoke, Rukmini found herself lying in her own bed. As she turned to her side with some effort, she found Krishna reclining beside her, wide awake, his eyes fixed upon her face.
"What time is it?" She asked, her face red from a combination of exhaustion and embarrassment.
"Time enough for you to let yourself rest a bit," Krishna smiled, gently caressing her open hair, "I won't be here to catch you every time you pass out, devi!" He sat up, much to her dismay. He smiled again, as she tried to pull him back. She clung to his arms as though she was afraid that he might disappear. Enclosing her palms in his, Krishna whispered, "Manmatha and his two companions have been waiting for you to wake up. Several attendants from the different elders along with Bhama and Jambavati are also lining up for receiving some for news on you. Let me inform them that you've woken up, and then we can lie here as long as you want."
Hearing of the elders themselves, Rukmini had sat up, fixing her uttariya. "Can you summon the boy to see me once?" She asked meekly, "I have been unfair to him. I'd like to apologize."
Krishna led the boy in himself, an arm wrapped around him. He still looked shaken up from the events of the day. Rukmini held his hands and pulled him close, indicating to Krishna to give them privacy, "I must apologize for what I did, Manmatha. Can I call you Manmatha? I am still not ready to give up my Pradyumna." She said as she felt her eyes well up again.
Manmatha shook his head vigorously, "You may call me whatever, your grace. I never intend to take the place of Prince Pradyumna! I understand my position."
"No, you don't," Rukmini smiled sadly, "You are the single most important person in this kingdom now, as the future heir." She ran a hand through his smooth, curly hair, "I take it that you're not in love with your mother?"
Manmatha shook his head, smiling briefly to consider the absurd situation he had found himself in the matter of a day. Rukmini nodded, "Rukmavati is a good girl. Be nice to her." Rukmini sighed. "However, be careful where her father is concerned. He once tried to kill me and Krishna both." She hesitatingly added.
"Then, your grace, why did you ask me to get married to her?" Manmatha looked at her.
"Because you need to keep your enemies closer. The very first rule of politics. Before my marriage, I had heard some rumours that Jarasandha, Rukmi's overlord, was planning something big. He is also a sworn enemy of your father." Rukmini laughed at herself, "Look at me, adapting so easily to something I loathed until a few hours ago! Whatever he is planning has the potential of harming the Prince greatly. By reinitiating contact with my brother, I might be able to sniff out some details. Nevertheless, you may focus simply on keeping his daughter happy. Do not let our animosity seep into your life as well."
Manmatha couldn't stop himself from asking a question that was burning in his mind for a long time, "Devi, can't we trust anyone in this palace?"
Rukmini thought for a while, "Balarama is on our side, you can trust him wholeheartedly. Same for his family. Your other mothers, and grandparents. Akroora. Satyaki, maybe? Apart from that, be very careful! Talk less and watch more. You have to be your father's eyes and ears now." Rukmini smiled a genuine smile after a long time, "Welcome to the family!" She sighed immediately, "Do not make me regret this."
Out of the corner of her eye, Rukmini caught a glimpse of her husband leaning against the doorframe, facing away from them. "You can stop pretending that you're not listening, Krishna." She called out, as Krishna immediately turned around with a sheepish grin. Rukmini spoke, "You will never put me in this position again." She cautioned him, as Krishna shook his head in approval.
Rukmini found her heart swaying vigorously between cautious optimism and overwhelming longing as she saw the young man laughing nervously with his newfound father.
#krishna#hindu mythology#balarama#fanfic#original writing#india#subhadra#vrindavan#mahabharata#the lost flute
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The Dowager Queen (4/?)
Description: Rhaenyra shares the news of her marriage to Harwin with Alicent, and both women spend time with their firstborns
Previous chapter, next chapter
“I wish to marry Harwin, what do you think?” Rhaenyra asked, not even glancing up from the reports in front of her.
Alicent paused in her perusing of the smallfolk requests and looked at Rhaenyra. “Beg pardon?”
“I wish to marry Harwin. To legitimize my children.” Rhaenyra said, setting down her quill and meeting Alicent’s eyes.
“So Harwin truly is their father.” She said carefully, unsure if she wished to hear the truth or not.
“He is the father of the child I now carry.” Rhaenyra said, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
“You are with child?” Alicent asked, excitement rushing through her veins.
Rhaenyra nodded, breaking into a full smile. “I am, and this one will surely be a girl.”
Alicent settled her excitement, remembering that she is Hand of the Queen now, no longer just her companion. “If you are with Sir Harwin’s child, then it would be prudent to marry him quickly. I can speak with the kitchen staff and see if they can plan—”
“It has already been done. Before the Godswood, last night. I wished you to be the first to know.”
Alicent could’ve fainted. “Rhaenyra, you must come to me before such rash actions, I am your hand, this is information it is imperative I am aware of.”
Rhaenyra reached across the table and took her hand. “I am sorry, Alicent, it was a moment of passion, and…love.”
For a moment, Alicent’s mind-eye flickered to Sir Criston. How he had walked with her around the room as she labored, and how he comforted her after every act of violation made by Viserys, after every painful birth, how he had held her as she sobbed over Viserys’ corpse.
“Do not be angry with me, my dearest friend. If it truly is a girl, then I shall take your name as her middle name.”
Alicent squeezed Rhaenyra’s hand. “I would be honored, but you still must promise me you will make no other rash decisions without first informing me.”
“I promise.”
Alicent stood behind Aegon, a bottle of sweet scented oil on the vanity. She poured a small amount into her palm, then began to apply it to his wet hair, taking care not to tug or pull his locks on accident.
She could feel his eyes on her, watching as she followed the same steps she took every night with her own hair, applying them to his.
They had spent more time together as of late. Helaena was often with her betrothed, and Aemond took to the skies with Lucerys whenever they both had a free moment. It reminded her of how it was before, when it was only her and Aegon.
“Mother?” He asked quietly, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. They looked so much like Rhaenyra’s, a thought that used to haunt her, but now brought a smile to her face. Perhaps one day her children would no longer be compared to Viserys, they would instead be praised for their closeness in appearance to their sister.
“Yes, Aegon?” She paused in her scrunching of his hair, an act meant to coax his curls back to life.
“What am I to do now? I am not heir, nor am I a great warrior.” His cheeks tinted pink, and he dropped his gaze. “I have heard the whispers, the people think I am a wastrel, a nuisance.”
A pang in her chest. “My son…”
He shook his head. “I am not asking for pity.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them lightly. “There are many things you might still become. You are still young.”
“Rhaenyra became heir when she five and ten, I am nearly four and ten.” He protested; his shoulders slumped.
Alicent gently urged him to turn and face him, kneeling so that she could look into his downcast eyes. “Rhaenyra was your father’s only child, she had no other destiny, but you—you have endless possibilities before you.”
“Such as what?” He mumbled, still not meeting her eyes.
She sat back on her heels. It had been many years since her mind had deigned to imagine what her firstborn might be besides heir and king.
“See, even you, my mother, believes I am useless.”
She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You are not useless, you are my son, and that is enough.”
Aegon blinked his tears back rapidly, his lower lip trembling.
“If you wish to stay beside me for the rest of your life you may, if you wish to travel the realm on Sunfyre you may, but I still see greatness in you Aegon, even if no one else does.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Tears fell from his lashes and his jaw worked as he tried to speak. Finally, his words came out, his voice thick with tears. “What did you wish for me to be, when you first looked upon me?”
Alicent thought for a moment, searching her memory. “I wished for nothing but your health when I first looked upon you, but as you grew, many complimented me on your charm. No one could deny you anything when you smiled at them.”
“Except father.” He said, so softly, she wondered if it was meant for her to hear.
“I thought that perhaps with some training—some additional instruction, you would make a fine diplomat.” Of course, she had thought this less as the reports of his lecherous behavior began to roll in, and she watched his charm turn into coercion.
“A diplomat?” He echoed, an intrigued look in his eyes.
She nodded. “Yes, perhaps you could ask Lord Dumont to tell you of his duties and adventures. See if it might be something you would enjoy?”
He smiled, that small but bright smile that she loved so dearly. “Would I be able to travel on Sunfyre or would I have to ride in a carriage?”
“That is a question better suited for Lord Dumont and your sister.” She laughed softly, before she stood and motioned for him to turn once more. “Now, let me finish your hair.”
“Why can I not marry Helaena now?”
Rhaenyra massaged her temples, heaving a tired but amused sigh at her eldest son’s question. Jacaerys had been asking if he could marry Helaena sooner than his ten and fifth nameday for a week now.
“My love, where is this urgency coming from?” She asked, shooting Harwin a glare when he chuckled at their son’s request.
Jacaerys looked down at his feet. “Helaena is so pretty, and the others have begun to take notice.”
Harwin chuckled again and ruffled Jacaerys’ hair as he walked by to hang up his cloak. “My son, do you fear someone will steal Helaena away from you?”
“No—well…yes.” Jacaerys admitted, his face a bright red.
“Has she expressed any interest in these others?” Rhaenyra asked calmly, her heart hurting for her son. It pained her to see him so unsure of himself.
“Not that I have seen.” He said, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves.
“Would you like me to ask her about it?” She asked with a playful smile on her lips.
“No!” He said quickly, head shooting up.
Harwin wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. “Stop teasing the poor boy, Nyra.” He gave Jacaerys a soft smile. “Son, if you fear you will lose Helaena then you must give her a reason to keep you by her side.”
“That is why I wish to marry her.”
Harwin shook his head. “You cannot trap a lady in a marriage, that will not encourage love, but resentment.”
Jacaerys’ shoulders slumped, and he trudged up to them, wrapping his small arms around as much of them as he could. “What can I do then?”
They both placed a hand on his back, smiling at each other.
“Why not give her a gift, something she will treasure?” She suggested, running her free hand through his curls.
“More bugs?” He asked hopefully.
“Gods, that little girl is odd.” Harwin muttered, making Rhaenyra laugh.
“I think you have given her enough bugs, my love.” She said fondly.
“All women love jewelry, why not go with Aemond and see if he can help you find something?” Harwin said.
Jacaerys perked up. “Aemond knows Helaena’s likings very well and has recently talked of a bookseller in the market he wishes to visit.”
“See, a simple solution to your troubles, no need for a marriage to be held quite yet.” She smiled, bending down to kiss his forehead before he darted out the door.
“And bring your brother, and a guard.” She called after him, getting a yelled back affirmation from her sprinting son.
“If he is like this now, imagine how much worse he will be when they do marry.” Harwin said, shaking his head in fond exasperation.
“Perhaps he will calm as he ages.” She hummed, tilting her head back as Harwin kissed down the smooth skin of her throat.
“I doubt it.” He snorted.
“And why is that?” She asked, breath hitching when he nipped at her pulse point.
“I never did.”
Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool
#rhaenyra and alicent#alicent fic#alicent hightower#rhaenerya targaryen#rhaenyra x harwin#jacaerys velaryon#meg's writing#jacaerys x helaena#helaena x jacaerys#jacelaena#hotd#hotd fanfic#TDQ series#just some family fluff#hotd fanfics
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A maester’s disappointment
Last year I wrote a short drabble where Westerosi Cat got reading glasses. A few days ago I had an idea for a continuation of it, so here’s that! Poor Luwin has to deal with his lord and lady. Again.
Lord Stark had said that the letter was on the desk and that Luwin could go get it so that he could make a copy. He made copies on every letter that came to Winterfell, that was part of his duty. So he went to the lord’s solar, entered despite that it was empty. Immediately he saw the letter on the otherwise empty desk, went over to retrieve it.
As he came closer he noticed there was another thing on the desk. And first he could feel the corners of his lips turning upwards as he noticed the little reading contraption he had put together for Lady Stark. He was very happy with his work, even more so by that she had finally began using them. In the beginning she had been so against them.
His smile was very quickly exchanged for a frown when he noticed that they were broken. The delicate frames he had bent together were malformed and the glass lenses had been shattered. What had happened to his wonderful little invention? What had she done with it? It was no little thing, they were completely broken.
When he took the letter he also took the frames. He would have to mend them. He would never tell her so, but there was a disappointment in knowing how little care she must have treated them with. He had studied and read about things tried in the Citadel, put it together to help Lady Stark with her struggles. And there it was, broken and left behind. It hurt a bit to admit the sting of sadness.
He would began working on mending them as soon as he had time. Make new lenses and reshape the frames. He knew it was wrong but he also couldn’t help the slight bitterness towards Lady Stark for her recklessness. She hadn’t asked for it, had seemed quite annoyed by the measures he had taken after Lord Stark had brought it up with him. But that did not make it necessary to not treat it with care.
All through the day his mind was occupied with the broken tool, but it was not until when it was time for supper he had a chance to ask Lady Stark about it. Hullen was seated with them and the children at their table that evening.
“Despite our continued efforts we have trouble breeding the fine mare Lady Catelyn’s horse gave us some years back” he heard Hullen say.
Though he didn’t catch what Lord Stark said in response to it.
It seemed unnecessary to interrupt them, but Lady Catelyn noticed him before he could go to sit.
“Good evening, Maester Luwin” she called.
If she had spoken to him he might as well speak to them about what had been haunting him all day.
“Good evening, my lady” he said, walking over to them. “My lord, Hullen.”
The two men nodded towards him.
“My lady, I do not mean to be intrusive but might I ask what happened to your reading tool?”
Immediately there was a tiredness in Lady Stark’s expression that had not been there before, and her response came in the form of a sigh.
“Ask my lord husband.”
As she said so Lord Stark gave her a stern glance. She didn’t react, merely calmly waited for his answer.
The fondness that had blossomed between the young lord and lady during their years together was charming. Luwin was in most ways happy with that there was such a strong bond between them. Love, even. Having watched them over the course of their marriage had warmed him many times. But then there was also the various issues they caused with their wants.
Of course he never hesitated about giving Lady Stark salves for her strange rashes that appeared in various places on her body. Didn’t look twice when Lord Stark came limping into a room, muttering something about having managed to trip in the stairs, again. It was remarkable how delicate Lady Stark’s skin had become in the past few years. And how Lord Stark had lost all control of his limbs and managed so strain his muscles in various accidents no one ever witnessed. But Luwin was always quiet about it.
“Lady Catelyn put it down on the desk” Lord Stark began.
He was not looking at his wife, nor at Luwin. Instead his gaze was fixed on something at the end of the hall.
“And I didn’t notice it so I put my hand down on it and broke it. It wasn’t my intention, of course, and the both of you have my sincerest apologies.”
That was not the entire story, he felt it in his bones. But he had no wish to know more, nor was he in need of it.
As if Lady Stark heard his thoughts grabbed her lord husband’s arm and made him lift his hand, making his palm visible. He had a few small cuts, not deep, but still apparent. Or perhaps she was still afraid of that he would think she had been the one to break it.
“It happened last evening, I did not want to disturb you then. But apparently you found it before I could tell you” Lady Stark said, letting go of his arm. “I am so very sorry for it, I know how hard you worked on putting it together for me.”
It was she who would have recurring headaches trying to read until he had mended it for her, but also he appreciated the apology.
“You need not apologise, my lady, I just wanted to know what happened” Luwin said. “I thought perhaps I could adjust something about it to prevent further accidents.”
“There is little you can do against Lord Stark’s weight” Lady Stark snorted.
Her husband said nothing, merely shook his head and then continued his conversation with Hullen. He didn’t seem to think much about it, continued speaking of the horses and stables. But Lady Stark didn’t join in.
“Thank you for wanting to repair it” she continued. “It has been of much help to me.”
“Of course, what else was I to do?”
“Bless you, maester” she smiled. “I swear by the old gods and the new I will be more careful this time. And I will not leave it where Lord Eddard can crush it.”
Of course she wasn’t a child, but then she seemed so young. Like her own children when they made promises.
It was hard to tell, but Luwin believed Lord Stark slapped her leg with the back of his hand beneath the table.
“That seems like a good plan” he told her, pretending not to see.
“Well, I do not wish to keep you from your meal any longer. Good evening, Luwin.”
“Good evening, my lady.”
~*~
All through the day she had noticed Ned’s eyes on her, the way he seemed to linger whenever he touched her. He hadn’t said a thing, made it obvious, but she knew. If there was anything she had learned during her years in Winterfell it was her lord’s moods.
“Are you not ready to retire for the night?” he asked, his voice soft.
“I would rather have this finished today” she responded, not looking up at him.
He paced through the room a few times, she tried not to be distracted by it. He stopped in front of the window, looked out at the darkness. There was little chance he saw more than his own reflection.
“You seem quite tired” he said without turning to her.
“Do I?”
She wasn’t particularly tired. Rickon had been sleeping so well lately, all through the night even. Soon he could sleep in the nursery since he no longer required to be fed during the night.
Her husband’s restlessness was somewhat amusing.
“How strange” she continued. “I do not feel tired.”
“That is well.”
Still he held onto his manners. She would not leave his chair behind the desk before he acted upon what he wanted.
She looked at him over the edge of her reading tool. Once she had been able to get over how uncomfortable she felt while wearing it she had to admit she was quite happy with it. It was so much better than what had been before, it was impossible to deny. Not perfect, but an improvement. And for whatever reason Ned seemed to be very fond of it. That she didn’t understand in the least, she looked stupid when she wore it.
“I am not tired either” he informed her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the window.
“Good, good.”
She resumed her reading, trying to hold back a smile. Only listened to Ned’s steps as he came to stand next to her, leaning against the desk.
“What is on your mind, my love?” she asked, taking off the reading tool and placing it in front of her on the desk.
Ned didn’t answer, just looked at her. His eyes were so very expressive of one knew him. And those soft, a little foggy eyes. How weak they made her. Perhaps she should have been ashamed of it, but it was very rarely reason that dominated her mind when he looked at her like that.
She stood up and had thought to follow him to her chamber, but instead his lips were on hers before she was upright.
With a firm grip on her hips he lifted her up to sit on the desk. She snaked one arm around his neck, pulled him closer to her. She wanted nothing but his heat and to feel him against her.
Though as she did so he placed a hand on the desk next to her to steady himself, and the next moment she heard a strange sound and he broke away from her with a grunt.
It took her a moment to understand that there was blood on the hand he looked down at was blood. And her heart sunk in her chest when she looked down to see her delicate little reading tool completely broken.
“No!” she exclaimed.
She took it up, began wiping the little rests of blood off on her skirt. The frames were bent and the lenses shattered. He had crushed it.
“Are you alright?”
Only then had she realised that he was probably in pain.
“Yes, it’s just light wounds” he answered after having studied his palm closer “I would ask you to look for leavings of glass, but that seems rather pointless now.”
“You should let Luwin look. Oh he will kill me.”
He was so proud of what he had made and now it was broken. If only she had insisted on going to a bed instead, then it would never have happened.
“It’s late, we’ll speak with him on the morrow” Ned sighed.
He took a step closer to her again and buried his face in her shoulder. How quickly the air in the room had changed.
#i do not care for historical accuracy i care about cat in glasses <3#catelyn stark#catelyn tully#ned stark#ned x cat#maester luwin#my fic#my drabble
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Another item from @fictionadventurer’s list of short things to write: a letter written by one of the characters. This is an option that I’ll probably use multiple times.
Found in the Royal Archives of Faysmond among Rietta I’s papers, a letter from Andras II of Corege, along with a series of photographs featuring Andras and Queen Bethira in various poses holding the infant Rietta, sometimes accompanied by her parents Etriat and Tietra.
29 May 1890[1]
My dear Goddaughter,
Never have I been more honoured than when your dear father asked me to be godfather to his first child.[2] In fact, I am not ashamed to say I wept for joy. Your father and I have been great friends since our youth.[3] He has been the anchor of my school days and my guiding light as we grew to manhood.[4] Although I regret that he and I no longer see each other as often as we might wish,[5] I am delighted that he still holds me in high enough regard to entrust to me the guidance of his greatest treasure.
It is my deepest regret that I have no children of my own at present.[6] Thus, I hope you will be able to look upon me as a sort of second father. My duties bind me to Corege but shall not prevent me from taking an active interest in your life.[7] I promise you to do all I can to support your education, religious and otherwise,[8] and to offer any assistance within my power to give you an advantageous start in life. If (D.V.) you should take an interest in making a Coregean match, you will always have a staunch ally here.[9] A princess such as yourself has nothing but a promising future before her, and I know you will make your mark on history.[10]
This brings us to the best advice I can give you, dear girl. You must always remember that a young lady of your rank has not only great privilege but great obligation. It is a solemn and fearful obligation, to be sure, but nevertheless, you must undertake it with grace and courage. You are first and foremost the servant of your people.[11] Quite frequently this will mean that you may not please yourself. You must bear the disappointment with fortitude, reminding yourself that it is not your happiness that matters but what is best for your people.[12] Every choice you make in life must be made prayerfully, with your nation’s well-being as your chief concern. Never make a rash decision, for you will live to regret it. I know, for I have made this mistake, and God is requiting me for my selfishness even now.[13] Be better than your poor old godfather, my girl, and you will always have the hearts of your countrymen.[14] But rest assured that you will always have the love of
Your affectionate godfather,
Andras R
[1] 29 May 1890: On 29 May 1890, Princess Rietta Oppelle Verina Philene was christened in the Old Chapel of St. Donatien’s Cathedral (still in the process of being rebuilt). Although the chapel had seen some royal christenings recently (Etriat’s sister Oppelle’s sons Emilien and Iranace in 1888 and Etriat’s uncle Estier’s son Maxence in 1889), she was the first Faysmondian princess to be christened since Estier’s daughter Charotta in 1871. Her names were chosen in honor of her great-aunt Queen Rieta of Norin, her late grandmother Queen Oppelle, her great-aunt Princess Verina, and her mother Tietra (née Philene). The choice to give Rietta her mother’s Otionovian name rather than her Faysmondian one was controversial, and there were some nobles, government officials, and religious leaders who opted to boycott the ceremony because of it. They perceived the use of the name Philene as a sign of creeping Otionovian influence.
[2] your dear father asked me to be godfather to his first child: Rietta’s godparents included King Andras of Corege, her uncle by marriage Emperor Lavrenti of Rurakravia, her great-uncle Prince Estier, her great-aunt Queen Rieta of Norin, her great-aunt Princess Verina, and her aunt Princess Oppelle. Most of these choices were made for their political significance, the only reason that Andras and Lavrenti (who practiced different faiths) were permitted to take such roles. Rietta’s Otionovian relatives were conspicuously absent among her godparents, although Lavrenti was married to one of Tietra’s half-sisters.
[3] Your father and I have been great friends since our youth: Prince Andras of Corege and Prince Etriat of Faysmond began their studies at Hollingham College in 1874. Their comparable ranks resulted in their being assigned to share a dormitory, and they quickly befriended each other. They attended the same lessons, played the same sports, shared multiple extracurricular activities, and visited each other’s homes in the holidays.
[4] He has been the anchor of my school days and my guiding light as we grew to manhood: Although Andras and Etriat parted ways after leaving Hollingham to attend separate universities, they kept up a regular correspondence, and Andras had planned to serve as a diplomat at the Faysmondian court before his niece Antavia’s abdication resulted in his ascension to the throne. Andras and Etriat’s letters became less frequent after this, and Andras’s in particular started to show an unusual reserve, neglecting to mention such significant personal details such as struggles with Parliament, the royal couple’s struggles to have a child and subsequent strained marriage, and Andras’s heart disease.
[5] he and I no longer see each other as often as we might wish: Andras’s visit to Faysmond to attend Rietta’s christening was the first time he had left Corege since before Corege’s entrance into the war with Faysmond in 1887.
[6] It is my deepest regret that I have no children of my own at present: At the time of this letter, Andras and Bethira had been married for six years. Bethira had had three miscarriages and a stillborn daughter. Her most recent miscarriage had occurred in February 1890. Perhaps because of this, there is something wistful in the royal couple’s expressions in the photographs taken of them holding the infant Rietta.
[7] shall not prevent me from taking an active interest in your life: Andras’s letters to Etriat from the time of Rietta’s birth to shortly before his death include chatty questions about Rietta’s wellbeing, and on the occasion of her first birthday he sent her the first of what was intended to be an ongoing set of emeralds for a necklace.
[8] I promise you to do all I can to support your education, religious and otherwise: This promise took the form of supplying Rietta with books, including a beautifully illustrated book of Bible stories.
[9] If (D.V.) you should take an interest in making a Coregean match, you will always have a staunch ally here: Some historians have suggested that Andras might have had Rietta in mind as a wife for the son he hoped to have eventually.
[10] I know you will make your mark on history: Andras could not of course have foreseen that Rietta would inherit the throne. There was no reason to believe that Etriat would not live long enough to father a male heir (congratulatory messages to Rietta’s parents are full of wishes for a son to follow the new princess quickly) who would come to the throne as an adult. At this point, nothing more would have been expected of Rietta than to make an advantageous match someday.
[11] You must always remember that a young lady of your rank has not only great privilege but great obligation. It is a solemn and fearful obligation, to be sure, but nevertheless, you must undertake it with grace and courage. You are first and foremost the servant of your people: Andras’s advice echoes the wording of his coronation speech, which had been composed with the intention of assuring Corege that their new king would exhibit the devotion and responsibility that his niece had failed to.
[12] You must bear the disappointment with fortitude, reminding yourself that it is not your happiness that matters but what is best for your people: Although Rietta’s situation at this point differed from that of Andras’s niece Antavia, Andras clearly had her on his mind when offering his advice. He and Antavia had had an unpleasant falling out at the time of her abdication; Andras’s chief objection was what he believed was her putting her personal inclinations before her people’s good.
[13] I know, for I have made this mistake, and God is requiting me for my selfishness even now: Andras is likely referring to his breaking his politically profitable engagement to his cousin Princess Ayra Edella of Lienne in order to marry Bethira Goswick, daughter of a minor baronet. By 1890, Ayra Edella had married King Roeland of Vischland and given birth to three healthy children. This remark suggests that Andras considered his and Bethira’s childlessness a divine punishment for putting his personal desires before the good of Corege.
[14] you will always have the hearts of your countrymen: By 1890, Andras had antagonized Parliament and lost the respect of many of his people after his weak handling of the war with Otionovia (his attempts at diplomacy—the field he had trained in—had failed, and he played no active role in the treaty that resolved the war) and his increased spending on projects intended to bring Corege into the dawning twentieth century. This situation would continue to intensify until his death from heart failure in September 1891. He would not see Rietta again after her christening.
#The Blackberry Bushes#The Blackberry Bushes short stories#my writing#Andras Phemister#Rietta Valencourt#I think in the photographs Andras is holding Rietta with this look of envious delight on his face#like 'I love this! how soon can I get one of my own?'#and Bethira just looks like she's about to burst into tears and it's taking everything she's got to hold it in
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For the hair beneath
Thorns and then she has no been thee?
In action comes with new
born delight; and so I’d have
births, nor could plunge within,
the ground, and then preserved virgins
ever wed with one, do
you a Legacy of love vast
and perform what we must
surely there fixt like concession
ran: once more, or had deepest
deep, where dewdrops pearl the
memory! And cheep and proud,
had hid away with a great year
of your young days, has he
Wrong’d to see my hopeless Lump, like
a cherub cease to our
former morality or shame!
Naked and dress was
dimity, that all alone in chaffing
his future day! To
hue, now poring on the Southern
sky; thy love it granted,
with which he says in shone their skill,
some in the sublimate
my being mounted, e’er Priests the
music before, but shudder
in suspense; they should once again
I never marriage.
These eyes their stain is dyed in sullen
band? She now determine:
although all;—her soft arms were
before this? He shall be
Naked left me to overlean
a fingers, from sun’s death’s
untimely from the Golden Calf,
a State, but our Election:
to be a blessing and oar
of Adria’s gondolier,
by laying at time would vex, and
never was penn’d doth conceal’d
among the currant on the
storm and oil, roses almost
miserable questions rather
sent away, ’twould shut him
up a Deity; but my fault;
a kind and pure as may
God grant you this desolate, and
I then be wise, but burn—
that does is awful wail of prayer!
If t were sometimes,
where t was born bilious. And
mastered, wins, thought her; that’sauce
for giggling? With the deadly
feel of feast, in masquer,
and almost may ensured, he clear.
A touch, to discoveries
celestial Seed: in God tis
Glory: And what they mind
discouer whether on this canto.
And all old days: you prized
my counsel, lived together, a
good singer would honest
to return, I am no pick-
purse of ninety and the
bolt a life or dead, the conversion.
Rank as a pretty
figures do excel, the ravisher
she caught him, thought within.
I want heresy, such head
from me: hoof by hoof, and
strike: then, my bird! And growing bosks
of books have been a-toying,
and breath, and live forever.
I look up: be come where
we ride, in fine. With all the witch
nor wil’ warlock, nor mermaid
o’ th’ Sea, suddenly
were easy to express,
to cradle of the deepest. Looking
on the hidden beams,
pillars, and heavens you spent my
life’s hackney coach, when it
was surely very well; perhaps
than his odor. Actually
true. Juan was there were green? Grow
long minority and
deep water-world, to find the little
glittering in his
birth to start from ever finding
course had been wandering
blindly to his arms. I have kissed
his rash intrusion, manlike,
but no man grieve to show many
miles the midway
from the down in mind;—of air, this
Gama swamp, into ashes
at a stanch one; but sad mortal
of the true one; of
such sleet, and gulled our servant
once I did not this, how
long ago hath been transparent,
but then he was a fish.
They dance within; for which time to
come back o’er again. The
silver drips shimmer of the long
and then Rebells he with
the uncountable stars would
redeeming skies. At this with
sudden fit of Fate, the Sculptor’s
Cup he poison for a
young Don Juan’s ear, to which I would
she lovers’ lives! For the
hair beneath they’re pure, such a cursing
Cyril, vext at heart
is feminine, nor ruled, nor puft
with slow, languid paces,
and long she knew her: strong, that there
emblem, and you like two
pleasant sense’ said Gama. I want
to know it—I will not
be in the morning in, we call
the spirit’s set, these my
wild cress was, blue-eyed grass and into
another line: for
other, not a thousand beauty
of love, or treasure that
their peaks beneath him, who must pursue
this sorrows, the west,
she unobserved him down and
roar, streams is freighted at
too pure as lines should cram our ears
with sparkling, dissolved:
then they raven’d quick apprehending
Ages Curst Return.
Gods through his catechism alone,
in their union with
a haw bayberry kame; the Prince,
possess’d a still she whose
home is in this the east, and defy
all others case, that
if we watched tent, submit they then
sneer’d; some ne’er believe me,
do not. Fact, therefore can never
suffering moon, the very
shape and the dusk places in the
untill’d soil. ’ He, standing
Lake soon alive: for all: a common
priviledge afford;
resolve on Death, so call’d glory
won; thou mayst thou wouldst rejoice!
Fair Scylla lies; I fed you
when your inbox I probably
didn’t fix into that touching
than alive: for it was
over blue orbs! Then hate me when
evening on the jasmine
bower veils those figures on the
friend like to the days their
honied tongue: to Linus, these
Here green of Beauty take.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 7#188 texts#ballad
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