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redwinetalks · 1 month

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I Won’t Let You Sink

Chapter 2

(Previous Chapter)

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Finnick X Fem!OC

Warnings: slight self harm, angst, fluff kinda, protective Finnick, the Capitol sells them unfortunately, hurt/comfort, pre-canon, young Finnick and Silk, Silk AND Finnick pov, Silk doesn’t understand that’s she’s crushing on Finnick,

Summary: Silk is back a the Capitol and she’s in for a rough night! She’s real stressed and Finnick tries to comfort her teehee.

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~ Silk ~

Only a few weeks have passed and I find myself back at the Capitol. It feels too soon. Like the days sped up so I couldn’t even try to feel the happiness I found back at home. I only was given a few days before any thought of peace was stripped away from my arms.

I feel greatly exposed while standing on the small platform in the middle of a room filled with mirrors. Everyone who’s here to help make me “beautiful” is just staring at me. I wish I could sink through the floor.

My stylist, Bijou, is filled with much more excitement than I am as she rips the last wax strip off my leg. I purse my lips at the pain.

“Last one! Now you’re all silky smooth. Just like your name!” She smiles widely and laughs at her unoriginal pun. I try to smile back at her but I can only muster up a slight twitch of my lips. She doesn’t seem to notice. “Now, you’re going to get your makeup and hair done, then you can just step into your dress! Oh, you’re going to love it! I worked extra hard on this one. I have to make you even more eye catching.”

Bijou has always been very kind just maybe a bit oblivious. She probably doesn’t even know why I’m supposed to stand out more than usual tonight. I wonder if she’d be sick to her stomach like I am if she knew what was happening. But maybe she does know, and that makes it even more gut wrenching.

She continues her rambling while the makeup teams tries to bring back the life drained from my face.

“You know, I’ve always liked District 8. I mean, yes it is very dreary, but your people created the beautiful fabric used to make the dress! And the clothes you all wear look so bright and colorful. It’s such a shame the place has to look so drab.” Her words actually cause me to let out a small laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone speak nicely about 8, especially in the Capitol.

“Thank you, Bijou. That’s very kind.” She smiles widely again and I notice the little jewels on her canines. The people here seem to want to bejewel everything.

I can tell that the purpose of my makeup was to makeup me look more innocent. They used an excessive amount of blush and made my lips look quite pouty. They straightened my hair and curled it just slightly at the ends. A few strands are tied up in the back with a delicate bow. If I didn’t know the purpose of this look was to make me have more “doll like” features, maybe I would like it. But I’m just thinking of the sick creatures who desire me looking like this.

Bijou leads me back to the small platform to put on my dress. She was right, the fabric is beautiful. The light pink dress has a corset bodice adorned with pearls and floral lace skirt that goes to my ankles. It leaves my shoulders exposed which must be why the makeup team made them look so shiny.

I wonder if they were asked to make me look specifically like this, as if by request. Am I wanted to be in pink because it’s someone’s favorite color? Are my lips supposed to look this pouty so they can seem more irresistible? These thoughts fill me with a sickening feeling of dread. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at myself again without wondering what predatory thoughts fill those who see me. Is this how I’ve always been thought of? Someone who can be easily taken advantage of and damaged?

“Darling? Come now.” I quickly turn to Bijou as she takes my hand. “You have a short meeting with Snow before you go to the party.” I look at her with a panicked expression. I didn’t know I was to be meeting with him. “Oh don’t look so nervous! He’s only a little intimidating.” She giggles and leads me out the room.

I walk a few steps behind her, my uneasiness slowing down my pace. I know he’ll probably only give me more information about tonight, but that thought does nothing to ease my anxiety. The corset doesn’t help either.

The walk to wherever we’re meeting is incredibly daunting. Part of me hopes the walk never ends, but the other part can’t wait to get this over with. It’s not even like I’ll be filled with relief once I’m done talking with Snow. I’ll immediately have another thing to worry about. It’s an endless cycle of horrors.

“Here we are!” Bijou stops and opens a door. I struggle to make myself move. “Darling?” She looks at me with her cheery face, but there’s a hint of confusion.

“Sorry, I…” I trail off. She doesn’t understand and I can’t explain it to her. There is no one here that I can express my true feelings to. There is no one to comfort me. I just have to push through on my own.

Apprehensively, I walk through the doorway and there he is. He sits in a large, dark leather chair with his back facing me. Drink in hand, his arm drapes off the armrest and on the floor I can see his foot tapping. Not impatiently, but as if he’s counting the tempo of a song stuck in his head.

The room isn’t at all inviting. What I’ve seen from the Capitol’s style so far has been over the top and extravagant, but this is much different. Everything seems to be curated to Snow’s image, very poised and crisp. He is tasteful, not at all gaudy, and it makes everything intimidating.

Unlike the beginning of his first visit, he isn’t ushering me to sit. He’s letting me take my time to walk around to the chair directly across from him. It feels like I’m walking to my death and the fearfulness radiating off my body is adding to his entertainment. I try to look more composed and unbothered by his presence, but I know it falls flat. He can see me inside and out. I am wrapped around his finger and it’s agonizing.

“Miss Fabelle, you look lovely. Thank you for meeting with me to discuss tonight’s events.” He gives me a small, cunning smile as I sit. He gestures to an envelope on the small table beside my chair. “That, my dear, contains all the details you will need. You are to be on your best behavior and arrive to your room at your scheduled time.” I tensely nod at him. He looks directly into my eyes and I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to talk back to him. It won’t do me any good. Snow does a good job at staying calm and collected, but it’s not hard to see the true evil that’s inside him. He is successfully sucking the life from me.

“Yes, sir.” He stands and then walks to the window behind me. I shut my eyes and put my hand on my chest to try and calm my breathing. The smell of roses fills my senses.

“That’ll be all, Miss Fabelle. I do hope you enjoy tonight’s festivities, but remember dear girl, you are here on business. This party isn’t for your entertainment.” I stand and nervously straighten out my dress.

“Yes, President Snow. I understand.” And I am thankfully dismissed from this suffocating room, on to the next horror.

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~ Finnick ~

The amount of linen my stylist chose to put me in isn’t at all ideal considering the weather. It’s still a bit chilly out and the thin cloth makes me feel practically naked, well that and the fact that my shirt is barely even buttoned.

It’s only been an hour and I’m already fed up with the amount of women that have all but drooled on me. Women that are probably ten or twenty years older than me. It will never not be completely disgust me, the Capitol’s obsession with teenagers that have been forced to murder. Getting aroused by that is fucking psychotic.

“Finnick! It is such a pleasure to see you again.” A woman I faintly remember from one of the last parties walks towards me. Her bright orange feather dress is practically blinding.

“The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” I wink and kiss her hand. I’d say she’s blushing but it could just be all of the makeup she’s wearing.

“You’re always so charming. I can’t wait to see how you’ll charm me later tonight.” She whispers in my ear and then gives it a swift lick. Her boldness almost makes me jump back. I could gag, but then I’d ruin the facade.

“C’mon now, don’t get me all riled up here.” I whisper back, thankful she can’t see my face. I know the look in my eyes isn’t at all believable. “Save it for later.” I smirk at her before walking away.

I walk towards a table of drinks and finger foods. I’m gonna need to down a bottle of something to get through his night. I see her as she goes to grab a glass of wine at the opposite end of the table. Silk. Wine seems to be her drink of choice. She almost goes for the red, but pauses and then reaches for the rosé. Probably a wise decision considering the color of her dress. The pink really looks stunning on her.

I didn’t expect to see her again so soon, but there she is. They didn’t even give her time to get her bearings before dragging her back over here. She looks like she’s glowing. I’m sure part of that effect is from her stylist, but not all of it. There’s something about her that makes her shine. In a way that’s soft and ethereal, like moonlight. If she is the moon, Silk pulls me into her world like the tides. And I go willingly.

I’m not sure what it was, but when I first saw her I felt immediately drawn in. When she was standing away from the crowd, finally getting away from the vultures, I felt like I had to meet her. It could’ve been my only chance. And she was nothing if not astonishing. I didn’t have enough time with her. I was left wanting more, but there was nothing I could do since I had other obligations. I’m not as busy tonight which is a relief. I may have more time to get to know her.

I walk towards her, looking around to make sure no one is itching for my attention.

“Hello again, Silk Fabelle.” She flinches, not unlike when I first met her, but it’s even more noticeable this time. “You know, I really don’t mean to startle you with every greeting.” I laugh but her expression doesn’t change a bit.

“It’s fine.” Something is off. The air around her is different.

“What’s going on, doll face?” She looks at me and glares. Shit. Why did I say that? Of course calling her by what the Capitol has deemed her as would be triggering. I wish I would think before I fucking speak. She has a way of making me so nervous, something others can’t do so easily. I’m usually more grounded. I’ve gotten so good at this confident facade of flirtations that it’s almost as easy as breathing. But with her…I feel it melting away. Like I’m having to relearn how to communicate.

“Don’t call me that.” She turns away from me and looks at her glass. I swear I can see tears brimming her eyes.

“I..I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve known not to.” She doesn’t look back up at me. I reach out my hand to her arms and she backs away slightly.

“What do you want, Finnick?” Her tone isn’t malicious, it sounds defeated. When she finally looks back up at me I can almost feel my heart breaking. She looks so empty.

“I just…are you okay?” And then it hits me. They’ve started selling her. But It isn’t her time to start. It can’t be. She just finished the games, they can’t be moving this fast with her.

“Just trying to make it through the night.” She gives me a pitiful smile. “You should go enjoy it while you can.” She starts to walk away, but I can’t let her leave yet.

“Silk, please.” She stops and turns back towards me. I wish I could embrace her and tell her it’ll be okay. But I can’t and it won’t. There’s nothing I can do to stop what Snow has planned for her.

“I’ve got places to be, Finnick. People to meet. Maybe another time we can finally have a full conversation.” Sorrow fills her voice. I watch her walk away and the pull that I feel from her just gets stronger. I want to be wrong. I wish that she could just be left alone, but I know how her night will go. I know that in the next few hours she will have yet another trauma. Another nightmare that will wake her in the night. But I refuse to let her suffer alone.

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~ Silk ~

The man that bought my time for the night finally leaves and I’m left on the bed, still face down. Maybe if I lay here long enough I can melt away. I could just become a decayed mess that was left here to rot. My skin burns and I can feel the tears trickle across my face and onto the bedspread. I finally sit up to cover myself with the sheets and make my way the bathroom. I only make it two steps before my legs give out on me and I drop to the ground. I just continue with a slow, pathetic crawl. I can’t imagine what I look like, but the thought is enough to make me vomit once I reach the toilet. Once I finish I continue to sit there and let go of the sobs that I was holding in. I want to scream until my throat turns raw and bleed, but I have to suck it all up. The punishment that my mom would have to pay the price for constantly floats around in my thoughts. It torments me.

I finally try to stand up and I brace myself against the counter. I stare just below the mirror for what feels like hours until I shakily raise my head to look at myself. I don’t even know who is staring back at me. She’s looks broken and filled with dread. I see only a shell of a human being. I feel so infuriated with what she has just gone through. What she has been going through. Before I realize, I grab a candle that was sitting on the counter and throw it at the mirror. My hands are shaking as the shattered glass falls into the sink. If only that had helped release some of my built up tension. All I can do is stand there and look at the mess.

I’m startled by the door to my room opening and I wrap myself tighter in the sheet. An avox enters to fix up the bed, but she notices me cowering in the bathroom doorway. She looks at the broken glass and doesn’t seem phased at all. I feel guilty for her having to clean it up, but hopefully she can forgive me all things considered.

She stands just outside the bathroom door once she’s done making up the bed. As if she’s ushering me to leave so she can start clearing away my breakdown. I hesitantly walk past her back into the bedroom. I see a change of clothes on the dresser for me and since she’s shut away in the bathroom I go ahead and put them on.

I don’t think I can lay again in that bed, let alone sleep in it, so I just sit down on the floor by the loveseat. I feel quite pathetic. I feel angry. I feel like I could burst at the seams, just like my dress did. I wonder how Bijou would feel knowing the dress she worked so hard to make is now ripped up on the floor.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about the mirror that I shattered. I don’t care about her. I don’t care about anyone or anything here. I don’t fucking care.” The saliva built up from my tears and sick spit out slightly as I whisper angrily to myself. Without realizing, I’m also sinking my nails into my shoulders while holding myself. I’ve grown to do that a lot now. Mostly when my anger and sadness builds up. The sight of me is a disgusting mess, I’m sure of it. I didn’t used to feel this weak and despondent. I used to be confident and full of so much life. I was passionate about caring for my district, but I tried to always remain positive. I tried to stay hopeful. But I’m scared that’s all gone. That I’ve lost who I was and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find her again. She has sunken into the abyss and there is no one to bring her back to the surface.

The avox walks out of the bathroom finally and looks at me on the floor. She looks like she has a some pity in her eyes, but it quickly fades away when she turns to leave the room. As she opens the door I can see a figure standing in the hall. Is there going to be someone else? Am I not done? My nails sink farther further into shoulders and I stare into the hallway, not even trying to hide the panic in my eyes.

The avox walks away and I can see that it isn’t someone here to use me, it’s Finnick. But why is Finnick here? How does he even know that I’m here. I know I didn’t even try to hide my misery, but how did he find me?

“Silk..?” He looks at me with that familiar softness in his green eyes. “Is it okay if I come in” he speaks in a whisper.

“How’d you know I was in here?” I say quickly as if I’m accusing him of something.

“I bribed an avox into pointing me to your room.” I can tell he was about to use his suave way of speaking to lighten the mood, but it isn’t the time. He knows to be serious.

“Why?” I say so plainly. He doesn’t have to be here. He doesn’t know me. There isn’t anything to gain from being here. But he looks at me with hurt, but it’s hurt for me. Is it so insane to wonder why anyone would want to be here with me right now?

“Because, I know what happened here. And I said I didn’t want you to have to go through this alone. I meant that. Especially with this.” And the sadness in his eyes is back. The same look from when we met. The illusion has faded and I can see that this is what is causing him to sink. I shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that he is going through this too, I just didn’t think about how many others Snow is forcing to sell their bodies.

I nod at him and move over on the floor, allowing him to come in. He sighs and smiles sadly at me but I look down and continue to hold onto myself. Like I’m scared I’ll float away. He walks in slowly to not cause any sudden stress and then sits next to me. I move over a bit more. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong, but I’m scared to be close to him. I’m scared to be close to anyone. Just him knowing what happened in here is terrifying to me. What if this gets me in trouble? What if it leads back to Snow?

“How…how are you doing?” I huff out a laugh. Like the audacity of the question makes it humorous.

“Fucking fantastic.” I then turn to look at and I know he sees the anger in my face. His entire demeanor shifts from worry to guilt.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just-“

“I know.” I cut him off, “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.” I look back at him and wish he could just read my mind. The words feel too difficult to say. “It’s just…” I hesitate, trying not to start crying. “…they took my girlhood…that was mine. No one is supposed to just take that from you. But they snatched it up with no remorse. I thought that I’d get to go home. That when I won, I’d get to go home and be with my mom and live my life. I knew I’d still have to relive the pain again every year when mentoring. I knew I would have guilt and nightmares and all of these horrible memories, but I’d at least be home. But I can never go back home. I am trapped in this hell forever.” I no longer try to stop my tears from falling. My shoulders ache from me grasping on for dear life. It’s all too much and I hate it.

“Silk” he tries to calm me. He tries to move my arms.

“Don’t touch me.” I snap at him. I don’t mean to, it just comes out and he immediately withdraws himself.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. Just, please, you’re hurting yourself.” I shakily remove my hands from my shoulders and instead mess with the hem of my shirt. I try to tell him I’m sorry, but I can’t speak. I want his comfort but I’m too panicked. My breathing is rapid and he can tell. He shifts just slightly closer, but he’s cautious to not get too close.

“Hey, just look at me. You’re safe. You’re okay, I’m with you. No one else is coming through that door. Just keep looking at me and follow my breathing.” He takes deep breaths in and out and I try to follow. It’s shaky, but my breathing calms down. I keep looking at him and try to ground myself. “That’s good. You’re okay, yeah?” He gives me a small, reassuring smile and I nod. I timidly reach out my hand. I want to touch him. To feel that he is real. He reaches back to hold my hand, but not before intently looking at me to get the okay. His thumb rubs my palm at the pace that he was using to calm my breaths. I close my eyes and sigh deeply. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

I nod and stand up, still holding his hand. His other hand is ready to help if I stumble. When we walk into the bathroom he lets out a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah...I broke the mirror.”

“I can see that. Good work.” He looks at me and smiles. He inspects to counter to make sure there’s no leftover glass, and then helps me up to sit. He grabs two washcloths, one for my face and one for my arms, and runs them under warm water. He hands one to me and I start cleaning up as much of the makeup and dried tears as I can while he tends to my shoulders. The focus that Finnick puts into cleaning my small cuts is so caring and gentle. I can’t help but look at him. He looks so concentrated and beautiful. Like he was carved out of marble, and then I see his dimples forming from the smirk he’s giving me.

“Like what you see?” I roll my eyes and turn my face away from his.

“You’re annoying” His face looks dramatically hurt and shocked.

“You’ve wounded me. I’m heartbroken.” I can’t help my lips from twitching. “There’s that smile, pretty girl.” I turn my head back to face him and sigh. He is so unusual to me. There is so much more to him than what meets the eye. His cockiness and flirtatious spirit is just one of playful banter. It’s not who he truly is. It’s his cover for the Capitolite, but besides that it’s just to amuse. To lighten the mood. The real Finnick is much more complicated and I’m so compelled to uncover his true character.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me.” He rolls his eyes.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” He laughs lightly and I shrug.

“I just don’t understand. You just met me yet you keep being so kind to me. You keep going out of your way and there is nothing to gain.” He sighs and looks down at the washcloth in his hand.

“Remember when you helped that kid in the arena? That girl from 2 got his leg pretty good with a spear and you could’ve just left him there. Let someone else find him. But you helped him up, led him to a place where he could hide, and tried your best to clean up his wound. You even gave him some of your food before you left. You didn’t know him. You had nothing to gain from that, but you did it anyway.” I remember him. He was so small. I didn’t want to help him, I wanted to ignore everything around me. I wanted to shut off my emotions, but he was just a little boy. He didn’t deserve to be left in mud, waiting for someone to kill him. And I knew that if I saw his picture at night, it would’ve been my fault. That wouldn’t have been survival. That would’ve been inhumane.

“He was from 4. He was yours.”

“Yeah..he was a good kid. You didn’t treat him like a tribute you had to kill, you treated him like a person. He was able to survive longer because of you. Your kindness, it meant something to me.” I look down at my hands. I don’t even know if that was kindness. I did it to save myself from the guilt. But, I guess sometimes that’s what kindness is. Maybe that’s why Finnick is here tonight.

“I guess I’ve been having a hard time trusting people’s motives.”

“For good reason.” He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Come on pretty girl, let’s run you a hot shower.” He holds my hand as I hop off the counter and then goes to start the water. He holds his hand under it to feel for the perfect temperature. He decides everything is ready and steps towards the door. At first, him caring for me made me feel a bit uneasy, but I guess it’s not too much. It is better than doing this all alone.

“Alright, I’ll be just outside if that’s okay. I don’t have to stay, though.” His sweet green eyes look into mine. I can tell he wants to, like he wants to protect me.

“You can. I think..that’d be nice.”

The warm water washes over me and I run my hands through my hair. I wish I could easily scrub away the events of today. The most I can do is scrub away the feeling of disgust. I guess this is supposed to be my future routine. Every few months I go up to the Capitol for a day or two, go through hell, then go home. I’m sure that’s how they think of it. So simple. I can easily get over it. How is someone supposed to get over having their body taken advantage of? They’re not, but I’m not thought of an actual person here. Just a toy.

This is happening to Finnick too. He said he knew what happened. He knew how to calm me and what to do to help. This is all so hard to come to terms with. Finnick won three years ago at just fourteen. Did Snow make him start immediately, like me? If so, he’s been doing this for so long already. All on his own. No one to soothe him after the torture. How is he still standing? Has he become numb to it? That thought doesn’t make it any better.

From how I have felt tonight, I cannot imagine what Finnick felt his first night. Fourteen years old and left to suffer in silence. I can only hope that they weren’t so horrible to him that young.

I could have stayed in that shower for hours and still wouldn’t have felt completely clean. I dry myself off and I’m relieved I can barely see what I look like because of the broken mirror. I don’t know how I’d feel seeing myself naked right now, but I know it wouldn’t be positive. It’d probably set me off again.

When I’m finished getting dressed I walk back into the bedroom. I see Finnick waiting patiently on the loveseat and he smiles when he sees me. He has such a beautiful smile. His dimples and the creases near his eyes make him look so warm and inviting. I sit on the opposite side of the couch, keeping some space between us. I think I’m beginning to trust him, but he still makes me nervous. That feeling I don’t quite understand. It’s not necessarily negative, it’s just…different.

“Feeling a bit better?” I nod and wrap my arms around my legs, giving myself a sense of security. The worst of the night is over, but it’s hard to feel at ease.

“I think so. Thank you, by the way. For being here and being patient.”

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl.”

“Maybe, but I want to. Your kindness means something to me.” I smile softly and he looks down at his hands, blushing slightly. I feel like I can see him more clearly. Like I’ve uncovered a portion of his mystery. So much has happened to him tonight too, but I haven’t seen him upset. Like he holds it in. Like he wants to care for everyone else first.

“Finnick?” He hums in response immediately. Ready to help in any way I’d need, but I don’t need anything from him right now. I just want him to know I would do for him what he has done for me. “How are you feeling?” He shakes his head, brushing me off.

“I’m alright. You don’t need to worry about me.” He smiles, but I know this one isn’t as genuine. He is hiding his pain and my heart aches for him.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but just like you have worried over me, I am going to worry over you.” He turns his head to the side, looking out the window at the city below us. He stays that way for a minute and I give him his time.

“They were quick with you. They didn’t give you any time to settle. They didn’t start immediately with me. At least not like this. They gave me the illusion of peace. I would come to Capitol parties every few months or so. Get dragged around by different women, but just to talk. Every now and then someone would touch my arms or my chest while flirting, but that was it. When I turned fifteen, things started to slowly escalate. It was secretive, but I’d be taken to backrooms for quick sessions. Nothing below the belt, but then I turned sixteen.” He takes a breath, somewhat shaky. He still isn’t looking at me, but I haven’t taken my eyes off of him. “Nothing was off the table. They could do whatever they wanted and I had to go along with it. And Snow would make sure of it.” I look at him sadly. I know how he was threatened. How he didn’t actually have a choice. He takes another deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. He’s looking at me now. His eyes are just slightly red. Like he is holding back tears that he refuses to let fall. “Every time I go back home I spend the entire day at the beach. I ignore everyone else and just swim as if I could swim away from this. It’s the only place I can let go. To try and distract myself from what happens here.”

“Tell me about it. The beach, the water.” He tilts his head, but I see his lip twitch slightly. It’s like just the thought of the ocean can bring him some ease. “There’s a place just past the border in 8 that I go to get away from everything. There’s a very small, rocky beach, but the water is too polluted from the factories. All I can do is listen to the waves, but it’s my favorite thing to do. Ever since I found that spot I wanted to know what a real ocean is like. How the water feels on your skin. What it sounds like washing up against sand.” He looks into my eyes and smiles, no longer trying to suppress it.

“It’s my favorite place in the world. Every morning that I can, I start by running to the beach and immediately jumping in the water. It’s so cold when it’s early, the sun is barely even up, but it’s breathtaking. You feel the coolness against your skin, flowing with you as you move. You can taste the salt in the air when you go above to breathe. It’s a feeling of freedom that you can’t feel anywhere else. When the breeze hits your body as you get out of the water. It’s unlike anything you could imagine. It’s hypnotizing.” He looks so captivated by his thoughts. Like he’s been taken to another world. I don’t know if I have anything like that. Something that can bring me so much peace and happiness.

“I hope I can experience that someday” Now it’s me turning to look outside. The hope that I feel is so strong. The hope that one day things can be good. That this world will no longer be suffocating and terrifying.

“Maybe one day you can.” I turn back to him and he’s looking into my eyes so earnestly. There’s a warmth that I feel from him. He thinks the same thing that I do. That strong feeling of hope is what can keep us going.

I keep trying not to fall asleep, but my eyelids have become so heavy. Thankfully, my conversations with Finnick have distracted me enough that I can feel somewhat relaxed. But I can’t get back in that bed. I can’t sleep there.

“I’ll grab some blankets.” He gets up to start turning the loveseat into my bed for the night.

“I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to sleep. I’m sure the second I’m alone with my thoughts I’ll be too anxious to.” I let out a nervous laugh.

“I can stay if that’d be okay. If it would help.” I watch him walk back over to me. The moonlight from outside glows on his tan skin as he stands near me. His golden blonde waves have gotten messier throughout the night, but he still looks perfect.

“You don’t have to do that. I mean, where would you sleep? Unless you’re okay with the bed.”

“I’m fine on the floor. And then, if you need anything…I’m right there.” He says that so casually as puts the blanket over the cushions, but I can see the slight tint of pink sneaking up on his cheeks. I can feel my face heating up as well.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, Finnick.” I help tuck the blanket into one corner.

“Sure I can. I’ve slept on worse.” He shrugs. He’s not wrong and I can say the same, but still. Am I even sure I want him to stay? My thoughts are quick to say yes, the night with him has been lovely, but what if that got back to Snow? Does that actually matter? I was never told I couldn’t develop a friendship with other victors. However, something tells me that whatever happiness I find here will be stolen away from me.

“It’s up to you. If you’re fine with the floor I’m fine with you staying.” He grins so sweetly. I can tell he doesn’t want to be alone either.

I lay on the loveseat, facing Finnick as he lays on the floor. We both talk about home, learning about each other’s district as we grow more and more tired. When I finally fall asleep, my arm is draped over the cushion and I swear I can feel the touch of Finnick’s fingers lightly on mine. As if he’s reaching up to tell me he’s not going anywhere. His protective touch saves me from any nightmares that dare to enter my mind.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

Thank you so much for reading! You all were so nice with my first chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one :) As always I am open to kind feedback. Also let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the next chapter!! <3

Tag list <3 (I again tagged some people who liked the related posts. Hope that’s okay!!)

@ghoulbabs @lusy98 @marvelescvpe @simplymurdock @marcyss @miserablebl00d @wife-of-all-dilfs @mrsnancywheeler @gremlin515 @bruuhky @0ceanautical @princessofyourmom @babypaperwitch @readawaythereality2

Next Chapter!

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spiritualviolation · 11 months

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yknow what? fuck you. *hi-fi rushes your cod duo*

anyways i’ve given this au a slight bit more thought so click read more to see my inane ramblings which are. not much.

- it’s literally just an mcc9 pink parrots x hi-fi rush au where nothing really changes except for the main heroes... yeah. i was 3 months late to martyn’s hi-fi rush playthrough...

- tbh i’m not sure whether i should put cc’s as the bosses or just keep them the way they are... i’m apprehensive because the bosses are kinda ableist and putting a mcyt character in their place feels... wrong. the alt option is making ocs but even that i’m kinda bleghhh......

- ANYWAYS martyn is korsica bc ‘self-proclaimed datastream defender’, ‘head of security’, it’s literally right there. martyn is trying so hard to keep a straight face at his own accidental ‘strong arm’ joke during his boss fight. his backstory largely remains the same as korsica’s, except martyn leans more to wanting to work in a position where he could also help people the way he has been helped, rather than korsica who wanted to work at vandelay because she idolised the company. martyn is somehow more and less stubborn than korsica.

- joel is macaron because i think it would be funny but also just could not genuinely think of anyone else. (maybe would’ve used big b...) joel’s backstory is the one that deviates the most from the original, if only to fit his personality, but i kinda think it parallels zanzo a little (as former head of r&d) which would be fun (also hermes is cnmn)

- as seen above, jimmy is chai and grian is peppermint, their backstories remain pretty much the same as chai and peps’, except jimmy isn’t as adamant on being a rockstar as much as chai is, just thinks being a rockstar would be an easier way in life.

- 808 is pearl! i considered using maui at first, but i thought it would be nice to reference both pearl (grian’s cat) and pearl (pearlescentmoon) for 808

i wish there’s more character content bc i genuinely do love the main team a lot

#hi-fi rush #mcyt #hermitcraft #i do not know what to tag this.#empires smp #evangenny aus #this all stemmed from picturing jimmy and grian as chai and peppermint #just cause of the silly sibling dynamic both duos have #i can guarantee you that now it's out of my system it'll probably fully disappear from my head #in about a week #give or take #evangenny art #i applaud people who can draw chai's guitar btw bc Jesus Fucking Christ #hi fi rush #solidaritygaming #grian #solidaritygaming fanart #grian fanart

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emilykaldwen · 27 days

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seven

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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CHAPTER SEVEN - THE LOOK YOU GIVE

Abby and Helaena find their voices in different ways, and we have new arrivals at the Red Keep.

Abby pressed her hands against her bared collarbones, feeling the prickle of heat that crept down her cheeks and flushed across every bit of skin that was revealed by the square cut neckline of the new gown. Wylla Karstark’s ruby red pout was pulled into an amused smile while she tugged at the laces of the other girl’s bodice. The pale blue taffeta had a satin shine and was, by far, the loveliest thing she’d ever owned. The neckline and cuffs of her fitted sleeves were edged with the finest ivory lace. Her golden red curls hung freely down her back, with delicate, mother of pearl combs keeping her hair from her face and the light, ivory veil that covered her hair in place. She watched Wylla move in the reflection of the mirror, wishing her own hair could look as thick and lovely as the elder girl’s raven curls.

“You look lovely, my lady.” Wylla’s northern accent was a song in itself, her amusement nothing but lighthearted. “You might make him swallow his tongue, since he already can’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Aegon’s…” Abby bit her lip before Wylla tsked at her like a cat so she could dab some coral paint onto her mouth. Abby remained still and silent until she was done. “Aegon does, well, I mean I do catch him looking. But,” her brow furrowed and her hands fluttered and smoothed over the bodice of the dress. She missed her woven belt, and the feel of the tiny mends she’d made in the fabric.

“But what?” Wylla asked with a finely arched eyebrow and promptly reached up to pinch Abby’s cheeks until they went a deeper pink. She’d been here only a fortnight, having come south with her brother while he discussed some sort of trade agreements, and was promptly pulled into service by the queen. Better than a Hightower cousin, in Abby’s book. With Wylla, she didn’t feel spied on like Lady Penrose, nor belittled. In the short time they had known one another, Abby thought she might be making a friend.

‘Maybe', came the shy, giddy thought, 'she could be a sister.’ She loved Helaena, who had been her sister and companion, with all her heart, but Wylla had quickly filled the empty spot in Abby’s chest that she suspected her own sister, Corynna, should have filled.

It was a strange feeling to not have to take care of someone. While she was still struggling to get used to the idea of being waited on, she wouldn’t deny that there was something in her that ached to be cared for. Wylla’s no nonsense and relatively pleasant manner, and surprising sarcasm, was a delight and a surprise and she found herself hanging on her every word, looking to her for guidance in only these last few days.

“But what, my lady?” Came Wylla’s repeated question, and her cool fingers touched her chin, rubbing off a bit of stray lip paint with her thumb. Abby crinkled her nose and huffed.

“But I feel as though this is too much. That I shouldn’t be… that it’s unseemly to attract attention.”

“Och!” Her fingers flicked the tip of Abby’s nose. “What southern nonsense are you spouting now? You’re betrothed to a prince, are you not?” Abby nodded. “You want him to admire you, and no others, right?”

A heated sensation curled in her chest thinking about Aegon looking at other girls, and resolutely ignoring her. “Well, of course I want him to admire me. I want to please him.”

“And he should also please you, that’s what my mother always says. A woman takes her own pleasure in a marriage, just as much as the husband, and if you flush any redder, you’ll turn into one of those apples, I’m sure.”

Abby nodded again, pressing her hands once more to the expanse of collarbone on display. She felt so silly being self-conscious about her dress. It was nowhere near as revealing as some of the dresses the ladies of the court wore. Nowhere near as revealing as what some of the women she’d seen Aegon flirt with wearing. Collarbones and shoulders and the swells of their breasts teased in the candlelight; Aegon flush with wine and preening beneath the attention.

“Mayhaps I should tug the shoulders down some more?”

Wylla did little to disguise the indelicate snort she let out and Abby felt her hands tug along the tops of her sleeves. “Won’t work on this dress but maybe you should push your breasts up.”

“My what?” Abby squeaked, her hands now pressing against her perfectly concealed bust.

Wylla rolled her eyes, and shoved her hands down her own top to adjust her breasts. “Now you try.”

“I… Oh, just…” Muttering soft curses beneath her breath, she reached down into her tightly fitted bodice to push her breasts up so they swelled ever so softly, framed by the lace. “Do you think he’ll like this?”

“My dear girl, he won’t know what to do with himself. Lucky for me, I get to watch. Now come on.”

Abby’s fingers carefully clasped the thin, silver chain around her neck. The charm was the shield and rivers of her house, tiny against her decolletage. It was so delicate she was always afraid of snapping it, but it was the one bit of jewelry she had. So fretful over herself, Abby did not immediately notice Helaena falling in step beside her, dressed in pale pink and silvery blue, sleeves puffed at her shoulders and elbows. Abby noticed her breasts looked nice in the wide cut of the neckline, not as deep as her own.

“It’ll be better once you have the jewels on you,” Helaena said as if picking up Abby’s self-conscious thoughts, or maybe she simply understood the look. “I like it when Aemond looks at my breasts. Aegon likes breasts, he talks about them all the time. Aemond says Aegon talks about yours a lot.”

Wylla, half a step behind, positively cackled. “Oh, this is going to be glorious.”

Abby knew she was as red as her hair. “I-I can’t do this, I have to change.” Helaena grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back, her other hand coming up to straighten the necklace around Abby’s neck.

“No you don’t. You change nothing, do you understand? There is nothing lacking, and there is nothing wrong with you,” Helaena said softly, brushing a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

She opened her mouth and then shut it with a click of her teeth, nodding mutely and took a deep breath. “I’m not this nervous seeing him day to day,” she said softly.

“Nor when you pulled him behind the tapestry outside mother’s room to kiss him,” Helaena said knowingly, a smile playing across her face. “Or when Aemond found you pushing him up against the bookcase.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see Wylla’s face going red from how hard she was trying to keep her grin at bay. Failing, of course, but she appreciated the effort. She shifted on her feet and smoothed her fingers over the delicate satin bodice once more. “I don’t think that’s true. Tis I who…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely into nothing. “It’s rather unbecoming. He never initiates anything. He’s exceedingly good about it.” Which continued to confuse her to no end because she’d seen the way he’d ogle serving maids and the other ladies, not to mention how he did, in fact, like kissing her. She’d seen him reach and pinch a lady’s hip while passing, that stupid and devastating smirk crossing his features. His hands would encompass her waist or cup her cheeks, but other than that, he surprisingly did not reach for her.

He also didn’t complain when she reached for him. Aegon didn’t resist when she was the one who dragged him into quiet spots, grinning at her giggles and returning her kisses.

“It’s Aegon. He’s a fool, and he drinks too much, and if you don’t think he’s as nervous about you as you are of him, then I don’t know what you’ve been paying attention to our whole lives.” Helaena’s tone was gentle, if firm, as if patiently explaining to a child that the sun rose at dawn and set at dusk. Her lavender eyes looked down the hall towards the grand staircase and then reached up to adjust one of the combs in Abby’s hair. Helaena’s own silver-gold hair was braided back from her face, a vine of pearls woven into it. Guilt stung her that she hadn’t been the one to do Helaena’s hair.

“So you’re saying he’s too nervous to, um…”

“Accost you?” Wylla supplied helpfully. “In a good way.”

Abby huffed. “Yes. Accost me the way I want to accost him. No, surely there’s a better word than that.”

A smirk crossed Helaena’s features, wicked and lovely across her pretty mouth. “You want him up your skirts the way you want to see beneath his breeches.”

“Helaena!” Abby gasped just as Wylla let out a bubbling screech of giggles, unable to contain them. Helaena joined in the mirth and Abby growled at them both. “I am not dignifying that with an answer.”

The Targaryen princess, a dragonrider in her own right, with a mount older than most, leaned in to brush her cheek against her own, mouth close to her ear. “I know you were thinking about Aegon when we practiced kisses,” Helaena murmured, mirth in her voice but even amidst all the teasing, Abby didn’t feel belittled. “And you’ve been putting it to good use.” She pulled back, and Abby breathed through the heated pool in her belly and all the squirming wriggling that came with it. “It’s Aegon,” Helaena repeated.

She nodded. “It’s Aegon.”

“He calls his horse Mighty Mighty, and if he could get away with it, he’d likely go sleep in the Dragonpit next to Sunfyre.”

Abby felt herself smiling at that, a soft hint of a giggle escaping her. “Mighty Kostōba, the mighty mighty horse.” None had the heart to correct him when he was young, but the eventual teasing still made him growl. Helaena pressed her hands to her shoulders, turning her back towards the stairs and pushing her forward, smacking her bottom for good measure and earning a yelp for the trouble. The princess grinned, tongue poking between her teeth and blushing, Abby returned it, heading through the growing throng of people moving through the corridor.

“You’re not used to this, are you, my lady?” Wylla murmured beside her.

“Abby, please,” she returned with the anxious thread still in her voice, picking up her skirt out of habit. Thankfully her skirts did not trail. She wouldn’t want to ruin the finery worrying about picking her way through the city.

“Mmm, we’re in public now,” Wylla said but bumped her shoulder against her and the warm fondness usually reserved for the clutch bloomed in her chest at the elder’s camaraderie. “How scandalous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Abby giggled, inclining her head in greeting as they passed Lord Tyland on the stairs, who only spared a surprised look at her as he headed up. “You’re ridiculous and I love it, truly.” She felt the northerner keep close and Abby reached a hand behind her to take Wylla’s and give it a reassuring squeeze. The Keep was a lot, she knew, and she’d grown up there. She couldn’t imagine how much it was for a woman from the edge of the world and silently hoped that chaperoning them through the city would not be too much.

It was then her eyes fell upon Aegon, lounging at the foot of the stairs against the bannister, arm slung over the carving of the dragon that reclined along the the end, its forelegs and head resting at the pillar. His moonlit hair was a cloud of soft waves around his head, his pale skin pink and very scrubbed clean. The leather jerkin he wore was new: buttersoft black leather with shining, golden clasps in the shape of dragon heads, their gaping mouths swallowing the flame closures. The shirt beneath was red, of all things, instead of the green his mother forced him and Aemond into. As crimson as the Targaryen dragon embolized on the banners around them, the cuffs of the linen were tied with gold lacing that criss crossed their way up his sleeves, his arms crossed while he waited. The golden belt around his waist was carved to represent dragon scales, and a dagger in a matching scabbard hung from it, the pommel also a golden dragon. Even the leather trousers he wore, shoved into shining black boots, had the same gold lacing up the sides.

She bit her lip, admiring him while he hadn’t noticed her approach, until she saw that his gaze was towards a group of women laughing near the doors. The fluttering, heated squirming in her belly increased, and she made a sound in the back of her throat, aware of it only because of how it scratched.

“Did you just growl?” She barely heard Wylla mutter before she was making her way down the stairs.

“There you are!” Abby declared, a smile on her face, feeling the chain of her necklace slide against her collarbones, feeling the warm metal of her sigil charm fall into the slight space between her breasts. Her voice felt too loud, for she did her best to ignore the other gazes that turned in their direction, focused only on Aegon who craned his neck at the call before he jerked up from his languid position to turn fully towards her.

There was a deeply satisfied feeling that trickled down her spine at the way his head meant to turn before looking back again, his lilac eyes widening and turning fully toward her. She smiled far more genuinely this time, feeling the flutter start up again as she approached and took the hand he offered her. “You look very handsome,” she told him softly as he simply gaped at her, her own mouth dry. Her belly fluttered again, and she reached up with her free hand to hook her fingers in the gold necklace he wore, the sapphires winking in the light streaming through the windows. She used her hold on it to tug him down enough to brush a soft kiss against his cheek, leaving behind just a slight shine of the coral paint over the flush of pink that suffused his own cheeks.

She heard Aegon exhale a muttered curse that had her swallowing, his hand warm where it enveloped hers, and he turned his head as she pulled back so his nose could bump against hers. It surprised her, and she let out a soft chuckle that had a grin spreading slowly across his face. Sharp and playful, safe and edged in danger all the same.

His pupils had blown black, the lilac a vibrant ring.

Abby rocked back on her heels, smiling back at him and let go of his necklace.

“Good thing we’re taking the damned carriage,” he said, his thumb stroking against the palm of her hand while he guided her down the last few steps.

“Why is that?” she asked and Aegon tugged her closer so she could slip her hand into the crook of his arm. They were being watched - they were meant to be watched - and she wanted to hide her face against his arm, but instead she only tilted her head towards his as he inclined his own.

“Because I fear someone would try to pull you from the horse and spirit you away,” he said, a sidelong glance towards the guards. She squeezed his arm, her other hand coming up to press against his chest while they made their way out the main doors to the courtyard. The usual smell of the baking red stone had given way to something that was earthier and fresh - the storms the previous few days having washed away the dust and dirt that clung to the air.

The carriage was waiting, the pair of horses attached pawing at the ground, their bay coats freshly brushed and harnesses clinking with the shakes of their heads. The Cargylls were both mounted on their horses as their escorts for the outing, Ser Harrold beside them, his polished helm gleaming beneath his arm.

Kostōba, Aegon’s horse, nearly as precious to him as Sunfyre, stood patiently beside the carriage, reins held by one of the stablehands while the footman stood at the open carriage door. The stallion was a gift for Aegon’s eighth name day nearly a decade ago, and had grown larger than most of the other horses in the stable that didn’t belong to the Kingsguard. His coat was a creamy gold color, dappled in a way that made it seem like he had scales of his own. Kostōba’s eyes, bright and brilliantly blue, took in his surroundings, and he let out a soft sound when Aegon whistled to him.

Abby’s fingers tightened in Aegon’s arm when he started to pull away, confusion tripping at her words. “A-are you not, are we not riding together?” The previous warmth had given way to an icy discomfort, and she reached up to press a hand to her belly, her fingers scraping against the fabric with nervous tension.

“We’re going into the city, so I thought you’d feel more comfortable riding with Lady Karstark.” He avoided her gaze, looking at some other spot on her face. His eyes darted lower, along her low neckline. Heat prickled against her skin, but she was not as giddy for it now.

“You said we’d be riding in the carriage, Aegon.” She hated how unsure her voice sounded in her ears, and she dropped her hands from him and instead held her skirts. A deep breath, and a glance at Wylla to give her a slight, reassuring smile. “Is this because we’re not alone? Because of last time?”

Last time they’d come from the Dragonpit had resulted in them being caught upon arrival, Abby half dragged across his lap, her fingers in his hair and his hands bunched in her skirts. The Queen had subsequently forbidden them from riding Sunfyre together. Abby’s feet were to remain firmly on the ground until the wedding.

She’d been the one to initiate that as well.

Aegon shook his head, a sound escaping him, and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Immediately, she felt her mouth water, wanting to bite on the tip of his finger, and she allowed him to tilt her head back. The jealousy that lingered hoped those ladies saw this; that he touched her so intimately and not them.

“I meant what I said about rather you being in the carriage than someone thinking that you’re ripe for the picking.” While it was endearing in its own protective way, it now rang hollow to Abby’s ears. They were burning beneath her curls and the soft, ivory veil that hung around her.

“We have the Kingsguard, Aegon, I don’t understand. For that reason, I shouldn’t leave the Keep at all.” Aegon pulled away, brushing a kiss against her forehead, and she longed for more. She longed for his lips in other places. “Aegon-” she made to follow him but Wylla caught her elbow and ushered her towards the footman.

“Get in, make yourself cozy, I’ll handle this.” She said it so matter of factly that Abby could only stare at her. Wylla merely smiled back, bobbing a curtsy, and gathered her dove gray skirts in hand, marching over to Aegon.

Abby climbed in, but lingered in the doorway to watch in fascination as Wylla Karstark hissed something to Aegon, unafraid of whatever royal protocol should be followed. There was some gesturing, and she watched her lady point toward the carriage, angling her way into Aegon’s space, not to flirt, but very clearly to intimidate. Aegon seemed to hesitate, and then shoved the reins back in the stable boy’s hands, tenderly petting the stallion’s neck and murmuring to him, before he marched towards the carriage. Abby hurriedly drew back and took her place against the far corner from the door, smoothing her skirt.

“Better this than me getting Ser Harrold,” she heard Wylla mutter, half in the carriage to glare at Aegon who was behind. “I’m not afraid of some pampered southern boy, dragonriding prince or no.”

Wylla gave her a smile as she climbed in and Abby stared at her in confusion while Aegon followed, throwing himself into the seat across from her as the door latched shut.

“Kostōba not so mighty today?” she asked, her hurt feelings demanding she needle him, even as her usual cheerful mask slid over her features. Aegon barely spared her a glance, pouting like a child instead of a man grown.

The carriage jerked as they headed through the gate and down the road. Wylla had turned her attention to unlatching the lattice covering on the window to peer out, the illusion of privacy appreciated. Aegon’s neck was as red as his shirt. He was clearly refusing to look at her and it wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, Aegon had jumped from any casual touch she gave for the past few months. It was why they hadn’t ridden on Sunfyre together until they’d gone flying on the picnic and he’d apologized to her. Where she’d kissed him. In the subsequent weeks, between kisses she’d stolen because it was her stealing all the kisses, and dragging Aegon behind blind corners, although he never complained.

“I meant it, you know. That you look handsome today.” While she didn’t mind silence, she didn’t like this silence. The type where it felt like there were teeth along the edges, chewing into it if they weren’t careful. “I don’t know why that seems to have offended you so much.” The words came out a little harsher than she meant, her arms wrapped around herself and her gaze turned away.

“It didn’t offend me. I just thought that you’d like some privacy.” There was a crack at the edge of Aegon’s voice and it drew her gaze to the prince. Her betrothed. The one who tasted like whatever sweets he’d stolen from her, and whose hands felt like they’d swallow her whole, so hot that she could feel them through the layers of her gowns.

Abby turned from the window to look at him and met his gaze. Not as black as it had been in the hall. His eyes always went dark when she kissed him, so she knew that it was supposed to be a good thing, and she couldn’t understand why he was acting like this. She had been agonizing for days about this. She had just been lamenting to Wylla and Helaena about this and thought ‘This is just silly, Aegon cares for me, look at how he watched me come down the stairs’ but his mercurial behavior was nearly as bad as his mother’s.

The comparison was on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she met his lilac gaze with her own, blue eyes fixed upon his face, and said, “One moment, your hands are in my hair, and you look at me like I’m some sort of salvation or that you want to devour me. The next moment, like just now, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Lady Wylla had to threaten you to get in here-”

“She did no such-”

“I absolutely did,” Wylla interrupted. “Oh, wait, I’m not supposed to be listening.”

Aegon’s mouth snapped shut, and Abby didn’t glance over at the other side of the carriage. She kept her eyes on his. “If you don’t want me, then we’ll turn the carriage around and tell your mother.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt and took a deep breath. She was worried that tears would threaten, but her eyes remained mercifully clear and she raised her eyebrows at him. Aegon was staring at her, the pout faded from his sullen expression to look wide eyed in surprise. “We can. You can stop this. It’ll fade away, only just a rumor. A dalliance. There is no shame in being a prince’s momentary plaything, since we haven’t… I kissed you first, after all. I have only ever kissed you first and I will not let you keep doing this to me-”

One second, Aegon was frozen in his seat staring at her, the next, his hands grabbed hers and yanked her to him. Abby fell into him with the rocking of the carriage, and before she could straighten herself, Aegon kissed her.

Aegon kissed her first.

One large hand wound around her back while the other cradled the back of her head, his fingers tangled in the hair that escaped her veil. His mouth wasn't as soft as it had been before, this time moving as if he would claim her here in this carriage. She gasped when he tightened his hold against her, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue between her parted lips, to curl it behind her teeth. She swallowed his sigh, her fingers bunching up the soft, red linen of his shirtsleeves.

Wylla’s presence was forgotten. All that existed was the way Aegon was kissing her like he was starving, as if someone had tried to take her from him - like in a song, like she was the source of every breath he needed. When they finally parted, Aegon tilted his head back against the side of the carriage, watching her with half lidded eyes and his mouth smeared with coral lip paint.

He hummed and she could feel it vibrate through her and she found herself humming in return, still holding herself with her grip on his arms. “I’ll fight anyone who suggests you’re a mere dalliance,” he said with his voice heavy. Abby reached up to cup his chin and stroke her thumb along where the color had smeared, wiping it away.

“So you’ll fight yourself, Your Grace?” She couldn’t help but point out that kissing her senseless was well and good, but her heart still felt sore and confused by his treatment.

Aegon scoffed and drew her closer with his fingers still cradling her head. She felt warm, and soft, and the sound that escaped her was equally so - a little mewl and a question she didn’t have the words to voice but that he seemed to understand because he licked along her cupid’s bow, teasing her and nipping at the swollen pout of her lower lip. “This is why I am the way I am, hunītsos.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured with a shake of her head. Aegon’s fingers tightened briefly and drew a soft gasp from her when his grip tugged at her scalp. She shivered and his eyes glanced down to her low neckline, his teeth scraping over his own lower lip like he wanted to bury her face between her breasts. The understanding of why Wylla was in the carriage with them nudged at her, because had they been alone, Abby didn’t think she would even deny him. In fact, she thought she might even invite him to do so.

“What don’t you understand?” he asked and his fingers slowly loosened from her hair and pet her curls back into place before drawing his fingers slowly down her jaw and along her hammering pulse in her throat. “Do you not understand how badly I crave you? Because I thought that I made it abundantly clear.”

She blushed and shook her head. His thumb stroked along the front of her throat and she stilled, the weight and warmth of his hand making her tremble, the ache in her breasts taking her aback. “Sometimes, maybe. I’ve felt very…” She tried to find the words amidst her shyness. “I’ve felt like I’ve been chasing you, that I desire you more than you do for me.”

The wicked smirk she adored cut across his plump mouth and he squeezed her throat gently, pulling a gasp from her. “Abrogail Strong, I desire and crave you to madness and if I let myself go, I fear that I won’t keep myself from devouring you whole.”

Helaena pretended not to notice that there was a smudge of what looked like strawberry jam on the corner of little Floris’ mouth. Instead, her eyes took in the way one of the girl’s black braids was a little looser than the other. It lacked symmetry in a way that made her fingers itch to fix it. The girl’s dark eyes were wide with excitement and she could hardly keep still - a grasshopper bouncing on her feet and trying as hard as she could to contain herself in their presence. It did little to stop her from darting her gaze around, little mouth parted in wonder. She supposed the Red Keep was a magnificent sight to one who’d never seen it up close like this, let alone on dragonback.

Helaena’s lavender eyes slid to the elder girl.

Cassandra, the eldest of Lord Borros’ daughters, was more sedate in her observations. She did not share the same bubbling excitement as her little sister, and the black traveling gown she wore underscored the radical differences between her and the butter yellow clad Floris. Despite outer appearances, there was a blatant curiosity in her gaze as she took in the bustle of the courtyard; the Baratheon caravan had arrived ahead of the ladies, and the last of the trunks had just been carried inside to their new lodgings. Now it was courtiers and guardsmen, and servants all.

She felt Cassandra’s eyes fall on her critically, not unlike other ladies at court. Helaena had grown used to their gazes and the fact she did not fit the mold of a princess. She was not vibrant the way stories of her elder sister painted her - The Realm’s Delight, laughing and shining and riding and dancing. Helaena was quiet, far preferring the solitude of the garden to being in crowds, but she made every effort to be nice, to be friendly, and while she’d never heard a whisper about some perceived cruelty, Helaena felt as if she couldn’t quite get it.

She could not mirror the way Cassandra Baratheon looked to her, a golden necklace made up of antlers around her regal throat - a look that even a good week in a carriage could not take away how utterly put together she appeared..

How much of a princess she looked.

‘Sharp and soothing,’ Helaena thought. ‘The mint winds and chokes like ivy. The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.’

She blinked, shifting, and her shoulder brushed against Aemond’s where he was a warm presence beside her. His mouth was pressed in his usual stern expression, but at her movement, he lifted a hand to touch between her shoulder blades.

It was moments like these where Helaena felt most grateful for Aemond. Not when he was railing about their future together, the one that he’d decided and she didn’t deny, or about his place in life. It was the softer moments, when it felt like before: before the loss of his eye, before Vhagar, when it felt like her brother was there beside her once more. Quiet in his companionship, unwavering in his support, near supernatural in his understanding of her.

This was the Aemond she missed. The Aemond she cared for, the Aemond who was so absent.

Emboldened by the moment, Helaena straightened, a smile soft on her face. She did not need a crown or a herald to announce her place.

“It is our pleasure to welcome you both to King’s Landing. I hope that your journey wasn’t too difficult,” Helaena said, pushing past the urge to scream nonsense and make scary faces at them both to send them running all the way back to Storm’s End.

“We saw a bear!” Floris exclaimed with bright excitement. “Didn’t we, Cass? It was huge! I thought the guards were going to kill it, but they managed to chase it -”

“What my sister means to say is that the journey had its moments, but thankfully was uneventful, your Graces,” Cassandra cut in, a hand placed on the younger’s shoulder and a smooth curtsy performed. Her voice wasn’t unkind, but perhaps the long journey had made Lady Cassandra less tolerable to her younger sister’s excitement.

“Hmmm,” Aemond said, and Helaena smiled. Floris’ gaze was darting back from Aemond’s face to Helaena’s hands and she felt her brother shift beside her uncomfortably. “If you’ll follow us, we’ll take you to her grace, Queen Alicent, to be greeted.” Floris’ eyes went wide and Aemond was already turning on his polished boot to lead the way.

Cassandra’s own eyes widened some, her hands spasming against her skirts before reaching for Floris’ hand, jerking her behind. “Come along and don’t gawk,” she hissed softly, and Floris whined in response, a grumbling, “Not so tight, Cassa.” Helaena pursed her lips and followed Aemond, leading the pair.

It was, amusingly enough, Cassandra who let out the first quiet gasp entering the entry hall to Maegor’s Holdfast. The ceiling rose up so high that it was obscured with shadow. It was the early afternoon and the place was bustling with courtiers and administrators, all giving Aemond wide berth as he cut a path like a shark through the water.

“Your rooms will be within the ladies apartments,” Aemond explained when they reached the second landing. He paused, gesturing to the right. “It’s where the unmarried attendants of our mother’s stay.” His voice was even and steady, ever the proper one, ever the confident speaker. Ever everything, that was Aemond. Yet it rankled her that he would take charge of this when it should be her.

‘He’s only trying to protect you’, Helaena thought and while he was good at that, while she was grateful for it, Mother did the same. Everyone did the same.

“However, since you shall be serving me,” Helaena said, raising her voice and plastering a smile on her face, remembering that smiles could be heard in voices, “And Lady Abrogail, you shall come to us in the mornings for duties once things are settled. No need to worry about that now.”

Floris nodded excitedly, but her sister looked on more sedately, her expression polite. “Is it possible to have our own rooms until you… have everything sorted?” She asked. “I hope you can appreciate that given our station and our familial connection, such things would be appropriate.”

Familial connection? Helaena thought. She did not look at Aemond, not needing him to think he had to step in for her.

“I appreciate your concerns, Lady Cassandra. If you are concerned about your sleeping arrangements, you may bring it up with our mother, the Queen.” Helaena smoothed her hands over the soft pink of her skirt and gestured for them to follow. “This way!” Her voice rang through the hall and she fell in step beside Aemond, head held high.

Wylla stepped on her heels again with a half-distracted ‘sorry’ that Abby waved off, again. King’s Landing was bursting with activity that threatened to rival the crowds that were sure to arrive in the next moon for Aegon’s nameday tournament. The festival was to go on for a fortnight at least, as apprentices across the guilds presented their masterpieces to be judged and reviewed. It meant that the stalls were filled to bursting and more had sprung up in every nook and cranny and side street of the city. From finely woven fabrics and dyes, to ropes and carefully crafted saddles, the market was bright and loud with the calls of commerce.

Aegon’s right hand gripped her left, fingers entwined, and kept her between him and the stalls rather than risk losing one another in the stream of traffic down the center lane. They paused in front of a smith, the heat of the forge not as uncomfortable in the heat of the city for the breeze that kicked through.

“Oh, he’s a handsome one,” Wylla murmured, and Abby followed her gaze to the handsome smith covered in sweat and black soot, his linen shirt soaked, his arms bulging with the effort of hammering. Abby giggled softly, humming in agreement. She glanced at Aegon, who was perusing over the line of daggers on display, and noticed his own gaze flicking towards the blacksmith with clear appreciation.

Abby hummed and leaned over to brush her mouth against his ear. “Do you think he’s prettier than me?” she whispered.

Aegon didn’t glance at her, he didn’t even pause in his dual inspection of the merchandise nor the man before him. His tongue darted out, pink and wet, to slide along his lower lip in thought as he reached for another dagger. “I think he’s taller than you, which has its own advantages, especially with those shoulders,” he told her softly, tapping the hilt of the dagger. “Open, I want to see if it fits you.” She held out her free hand - she still hadn’t let go of his and he had not let go of hers - and he pressed the dagger into her palm, instructing her to wrap her fingers around it. “Sometimes one needs a good handling.”

Abby’s gaze flicked up at him, Aegon’s lilac eyes fixed on adjusting her grip. “I don’t usually hold a dagger like this. Aemond did teach me properly. Also, are you implying that I couldn’t give you a good handling?”

“I don’t think you are big enough to pick me up over your shoulder and slam me down on something.” Aegon’s lilac gaze met hers from beneath the soft bits of silver hair hanging in his eyes and he pulled the dagger from her grasp and set it back down. Even as she blushed, Abby didn’t look away. She smiled prettily at him instead and was pleased when he grinned back. She liked this side of him. No, she adored this side of him. The way he flirted, and held onto her, and the way it felt as easy as breathing between them like it always had. Only now, her gaze was more obviously drawn to that infernal tongue of his that kept swiping along his lower lip.

He was doing it on purpose. She was sure of it.

“I feel like you’re challenging me, Your Grace. Must I also now throw myself in the training yard and hope that I grow as big and strong as my brother? I think you’ll be sorely disappointed.” Aegon snorted and picked up another dagger. This one had an ebony handle carved with grooves for the fingers to fit and a thick silver inlay that encircled it and along the guard. “I don’t need a dagger,” she protested when he had her hold it and frowned at the fit.

“You see,” he murmured, releasing his hold on her hand and having her properly adjust her grip. “I already know you can handle me, my Lady. I think you’re a natural at it, even small as you are. But if you’d like to be handled, be exposed to new ways of doing things…new techniques…” He trailed off and made an approving sound at how she was holding the weapon. Somehow it made her flush all the more. “I’m at your service to give you whatever demonstration you desire.”

He met her eyes then, mouth twitched in a slight grin, but she saw the nervous look in his gaze.

Abby pushed up on her toes to press a kiss on his smirking mouth and drew away before either of them had a chance to deepen it. “I’ve been told I’m a very astute learner, and I always like to learn new things, especially with demonstrations.” Flushed, she reached for Wylla who was still admiring the blacksmith and took her hand. “We’re going to look at the fabrics over here.”

She’d much rather they do that than make a scene in front of the attractive blacksmith.

“If you two wanted privacy, then we’ll find it. I’ll stand guard outside the carriage door. Or, he’s the prince, I’m sure he can just get a room somewhere.” Wylla’s look was innocent and compassionate when Abby looked over her shoulder to glare at her, cheeks flushed red. “You know, people like us don’t marry for love often, but if you have that with one another, there’s no shame in being so affectionate before marriage.” Wylla nudged her shoulder against hers while they plucked at the delicate spools of ribbons and carefully embroidered lace.

“Being accosted in front of the blacksmith is something I’d hardly call simple affection,” Abby said.

“Weren’t you only just complaining that he didn’t accost you?”

“I need to find another word for that, and yes, I know I was! That’s not what I mean.” Abby ran a length of silky, vibrant green ribbon through her fingers, and tried to find shades of red and blue to match. “I just mean there’s a difference between doing it in public! And…”

“And?” Wylla prompted, plucking up a spool of black linen thread in hand.

“And I simply get very flustered. That’s all.” She reached into her the small purse hanging off her arm to retrieve the delicate fabric samples the seamstress had brought the previous week. “I need embellishments to go with this.”

“Oh,” Wylla breathed and ran her fingers gently over the ivory satin. “Abby, these are lovely.”

“Do you think so?” She held the pieces up to the spools of lace. “I’m half tempted to simply make my own lace but that feels so extravagant and excessive.”

Wylla clucked her tongue. “Must I remind you again, Lady Strong, that you are marrying Aegon Targaryen, Prince of the Realm? You will become a princess on your wedding day. You should have extravagance and excess because if you don’t have it for that occasion, what occasion will you allow it?” Her voice was not quiet and Abby noticed the pair of girls managing the stall perk up from where they were attending to another lady and her daughter at the mention of marrying Aegon Targaryen. The other customers looked at her as well, and Abby smiled politely back and resumed her perusal of the lace embellishments. She let her veil fall forward enough to hide some of her face, uncomfortable with the attention now that Aegon was not distracting her, moving easily through the crowds as if he were born for it.

That’s because he was born for it, she reminded herself.

“These look a bit like dragon scales, don’t they?” Abby ran her thumb gently over the uniquely shaped scallops of soft lace, mind thinking of decorations and embellishments and appliques for the gown that they were making. So many Myrish knots to embroider. She knew there was more fabric on its way, and that the delicate and sought after Myrish lace would be beyond comparison but presented with what was before her, Abby’s mind turned in contemplation. “Excuse me, my lady.”

The woman did not appear much older than Wylla, with a shock of golden curls peeking out of her little white cap. She was the younger of the pair who were manning the booth, and she bobbed awkwardly behind the counter.

“I am no lady, milady,” she said, her accent a proud, Westerlands clip. “Neva, if you please. Is there anything that you like before you? This isn’t everything we have but-”

Abby smiled, raising a hand to slow the girl down. “Neva, is this all your work? It’s absolutely beautiful.”

She glowed as bright as her hair, nodding exuberantly. “It is, milady! I’ve been an apprentice for nigh on ten years. I’ve submitted my masterpiece for guild acceptance.”

She couldn’t help but keep smiling back at the excitement Neva shared and gestured for the threads that Wylla was picking up. “Well, I’ll take these, if you’d be so kind, as well as… well I don’t want to take the whole spool of this.” Abby pursed her lips.

In the pause, Neva continued. “I can also make custom pieces, should you need something particular, milady.” The girl blushed but pushed on. “I did hear you mentioning a wedding, but I wasn’t dropping eaves! So if there is something in particular you’re looking for.”

Abby hummed softly, fingers still holding the delicate spool of scalloped lace edging. “I would like that very much. If you have more samples, I want you to bring them to the castle a sennight from today. The seamstress is coming back to do a fitting and I would like to look at what we can make. Is that too soon?”

The blushing cheeks of the Westerland girl went pale before flushing even deeper and she looked as if she was about to burst like a Dornish fire flare right there in the street. “Milady, I don’t know what to say! Yes, yes I will certainly be there. Thank you…” She trailed off suddenly, eyes widening before dropping into a curtsy, followed by the other women behind the booth. Abby felt Aegon brush against her back as he leaned over her shoulder to pluck at the lace.

“Pretty,” he said. “Do you like them?”

She nodded. “I thought the-they would look nice for my wedding dress. Do you like them? I want you to like them.” Abby tilted her head to look at him, teeth catching at her lip while Aegon’s cheeks flushed lightly pink.

“Aye, I like them.” His voice was soft and he gestured to the lot, almost negligently. “And the ribbons? We’ll take it.” Aegon spared a look at the gaping Neva, plucking the bag of gold from Wylla’s hands and tossing it to the girl.

Abby blushed, glancing between the gaping girls and Aegon, who was already looking around. “Thank you, Neva,” she said, which seemed to pull the other girl from her shock and start plucking items. “I do hope this isn’t all of your hard work.”

“Oh, no, not at all, milady.” She was positively glowing. “Good fortune to be sure."

[Chapter Eight]

#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #hotd #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #house strong #aegon x abby

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florencemtrash · 8 months

Text

The Wisp Between Worlds

CHAPTER FIVE: LOOK AT ME

Acotar fanfic/rewrite. Inner Circle x OC. Eventual Azriel x OC.

Summary: Have you ever wondered what you would do (and do differently) if you found yourself trapped in the fantasy world of your dreams? For Nora, this fantasy of hers is about to play out when she finds herself portaled away to the Moral Lands south of Prythian. But all is not as it seems. Feyre Archeron is missing and the deadline to break Amarantha’s curse draws near. Who will save Prythian now?

Warnings: None for this chapter

Masterlist

*Let me know if you would like to join the taglist*

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The library was a safe space full of softness and comfort. Tucked into a quiet corner of the manor, it overlooked the drowsy gardens with a solemn and watchful gaze like some silent sentinel. Soft sunlight, colored in vibrant greens, blues, and pinks from the stained glass windows, cast itself on the deep stained bookshelves that rose from the floor to the ceiling three stories up.

When Nora laid herself out on the lush velvet and stared up at the ceiling she could trace the shapes and careful brushstrokes of the fauns and river nymphs that raced across the pearl-inlaid canopy. When she fell asleep, clutching the leather-bound history books to her chest, she imagined the eyes of those creatures beginning to glow, watching her with careful interest as sleep finally came to claim her.

She was a ravenous girl, barreling through at least one book a day as she paced around the library, head bent and mouth silently making shapes of the words that flooded her mind. The first day she had scoured the first few shelves of books, searching for anything and everything related to history, politics, economics, and magic - though mainly history. The next few days she carefully and methodically worked her way through the stacks of books that she arranged on the empty desk by the window, stealing every inch of sunlight before the encroaching dark eventually forced her to return to her room, books in tow. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat until she could repeat from memory the names and children of the seven High Lords of the seven courts of Prythian dating back seven generations, until the drawings of the magic creatures that existed throughout the courts invaded her nightmares.

Lucien held the reins loosely in his hands, feeling the muscles of the horse beneath him ripple and flex as they moved along the uneven earth. These were deep and dark woods they found themselves in, woods that had fallen outside the bounds of Tamlin’s waning powers. He wouldn’t have dared to trek this far into the Western Woodlands if it weren’t for the High Lord that stalked beside him looking more comfortable as a beast than as a fae.

Four months. They had four months to break this curse.

“Nora seems to be settling in nicely.” Lucien said. He knew Tamlin had slipped into the library on multiple occasions, too hesitant to interrupt the girl whose blazen quest for books had overtaken the space. Still, he was glad to see the space used. It had been a long time since anyone had walked their halls with any real sense of purpose.

Tamlin grunted in reply.

“Last I heard she’s stowed herself away in the library.” Again, silence. “Reading.”

“That is what you do in libraries, Lucien. If you’re going to say something, say it simply.”

Lucien started at the movement of shadows out of the corner of his eye. Brushing off the unease of feeling watched, he said, “She likes books. Might be an avenue to court her.”

“Court her?” Tamlin said with no small amount of derision, “I remember you saying I should drop her in these woods for the Bogge.”

“And like most other times you chose to ignore my advice.” Lucien kept the irritation and bitterness out of his voice with practiced ease. “Whether I like it or not, she’s here. You’ve allowed a murderer into our home-”

“Into my home. I know what I’m doing.”

Lucien stilled, the horse pulling at the bit to continue forward - she wanted to finish their hunt and get out of these woods just as much as the son of Autumn on her back.

“If you know what you’re doing, then you know how important it is to get her to fall in love with you. It’s the only shot we have, Tamlin, and time is running out.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” Tamlin roared in frustration, turning on his heels and barring his teeth, “Don’t you think I know we are teetering at the edge of a knife? The future of my court, of Prythian, is in the hands of some human girl. A human girl that dozens have died to bring here.”

Dozens of friends sent to their death beyond the wall, murdered and cut apart and sold to the highest bidder for nothing. Everytime he thought about it too closely, his mind would descend into dark places that took days to emerge from. It was what kept him away from the manor, chasing after beasts of shadow and darkness that prowled the edges of his court, nipping at his heels like the evil omens they were.

“I don’t need you to remind me that time is running out.” Tamlin muttered and sighed, eyes looking off to the slivers of green pasture that slipped through the crowded woods, “Go back to the manor, Lucien, and keep an eye on the girl. I’ll finish this myself.”

“Tam-”

“GO!” Tamlin growled. The horse pawed anxiously at the ground, twisting its neck back towards home. Lucien allowed her to follow her instincts. She transformed the brisk trot into a gallop as they escaped the woods together leaving Tamlin behind.

Nora sat at the table, flipping through the pages of an index of magical creatures as she broke off bits of a chocolate scone and sipped at the cup of tea before her. Alis had all but dragged her out of the library to have lunch in the dining hall like a civilized person. It seemed pointless to Nora - why have lunch alone in the dining hall when she could have lunch alone in the library. It wasn’t even like Alis stayed with her all day, despite Nora’s frequent requests to be taken out of the manor to go horseback riding or to explore more of the manor’s grounds.

“Don’t know what you want to go out for.” Alis would say, “There are creatures in every corner that would love to sink their teeth into you.” Nora wondered if Tamlin was included in that group.

She hadn’t seen Tamlin, or Lucien, in two and a half weeks. Two and a half weeks of holing up in the library and only emerging to take extended walks around the manor or for mealtime. She’d already given up on trying to learn weapons fighting - reading techniques in books and practicing with an old fire poker didn’t equate to proper instruction from a swordsman and after months of surviving on so little, she doubted she had gained the strength to lift a real sword. Maybe if she pestered Tamlin or Lucien enough…

Her head shot up from the page on the Suriel as Lucien sauntered in, mouth flattening into a thin line when he saw Nora sitting at the table. She never looked quite right in Spring colors - pale pinks and blues too pastel against her skin, which had steadily been taking on a tan now that she was removed from the winter months in the Human Lands.

She swallowed her last bite guiltily, quick to move her papers and books from the dining table to make space for him. He waved off her efforts, sinking into the seat furthest from her and beginning to help himself. Her dark eyes tracked his movements as keenly as a hunting dog.

“Where’s Tamlin?” she asked carefully.

“Out hunting.” His words were quick and to the point. He’d tried to shrug off the sting of Tamlin’s words on his ride back home to the manor.

“What would he have to hunt? There never seems to be a lack of food.”

“He’s not hunting to eat, he’s hunting to keep these lands safe. You didn’t seriously think all fae would be as welcoming as we’ve been?”

Her eyes flitted down to the book she’d been reading, “No. I didn’t think that at all.”

With a snap of his fingers the book appeared in his hand. She jumped from her seat, running around the table to try and steal back the book, but Lucien merely stood up and held it out of reach, golden eye whirring as he read aloud, “The Book of Beasts - Erudition and Mesmerism. This is what’s kept you trapped in the library?”

She pushed roughly at his chest, frowning when he didn’t budge.

He walked over to her abandoned notes, eyes skimming the pages of her handwriting which progressively worsened the more tired and anxious she became. All notes on how to protect from magic and wicked fae of every variety. A familiar figure kept cropping up - The Suriel. Lucien examined everything thoroughly, tracing the words she’d written with a careful, if not quick, hand.

Nora scrambled to pick up her notes and books when he finally stepped away, hurrying back to the library in a flurry of tulle and anxiety. Would he think her strange for her research? Would he begin to suspect her plan?

No, that’s ridiculous. There’s no way for him to know what I know. He wouldn’t even believe me if I told him.

Wherever Tamlin was, he’d sent Lucien back to keep an eye on her. She might have enjoyed having company if he didn’t hover without so much as a word, slipping in and out of the library with a quietness her poor human ears couldn’t pick up on. He seemed infinitely curious about all the time she spent in the library and would occasionally get up from his seat on the sofa and take a turn around the room, brushing past her shoulders and peering over to look at her reading for that day, at which point she’d slam the book shut or gather her notes to her chest like they were her own children. There were few things she could call her own, and so she wouldn’t give up these scraps of knowledge, not even for Lucien.

“Who taught you to read?” Lucien gazed up at the girl. She’d moved around the library like a ghost on a mission, only huffing and muttering underneath her breath when the pages refused to yield their knowledge to her.

Nora gripped the ladder tightly. She had to crane her neck to look past the many layers of her seafoam green dress to where Lucien stood at the base of the ladder. With every passing day that Tamlin neglected to appear at the manor, the more anxious Alis became. Nora was no longer allowed to pick her dresses. Instead Alis would spend the first two hours of every morning carefully arranging her gowns and her hair to look perfect in advance of Tamlin’s arrival. Lucien had to admit that Alis’s efforts were working, paired with the simple fact that Nora was slowly filling out her dresses with regular meals and time to rest. Her skin no longer held that pallor of poverty.

“Excuse me?” She looked at him like he’d grown horns.

“Where’d you learn to read?”

Nora blinked, briefly forgetting that illiteracy was a prevalent problem in the Human Lands. “Jaskiel taught me. He was a merchant.”

“And who is this Jaskiel?”

Lucien didn’t miss the droop of her shoulders or the sad memories that glazed over her eyes. She missed him dearly.

“I suppose you could call him my adoptive father.” The smirk on Lucien’s face faltered. He only knew the briefest account of her story - taken by slavers from the Continent and forced to survive by the Wall on the kindness of strangers.

“Merchants are taught to read contracts - bland and boring things.” He said, fingers dragging over the shelf with a look of boredom.

“Words are words.” She said, eyes returning to the soft leather spines of the books in front of her, “Just because you start off reading contracts doesn’t mean you can’t learn to enjoy other things.”

“Like bland and boring accounts of history.”

She shot him a look of indignation before returning to her search, “What do you want, Lucien?”

Lucien shifted beneath that gaze - a look that spoke of exhaustion and a sadness deep and unbroken. It was a feeling he was well acquainted with.

He should hate her. She was here solely because she hated fae strongly enough to murder one in cold blood, but the longer and longer she remained at the manor, the less he felt that to be true. How hateful could someone be who seemed so genuinely curious about their way of life, their magic, the creatures good and bad that roamed the lands wild and wicked? More than once he’d passed by the library to find her pouring over pages with a light in her eyes that could rival the powers of the Day Court.

More than hateful, she just seemed lonely.

Slowly the pieces began to fall into place. The second set of tea cups on the table, the hours upon hours spent alone reading about Prythian, the unfinished letters to her family, blotted and torn from tears - they laid out a story of loneliness and a fear of a world wholly unfamiliar to her and filled to the brim with people that would like nothing more than to see her dead. It was a miracle Amarantha hadn’t found out about her.

“I thought you might like some company.” Lucien said, abandoning the snide comment he’d been planning to tell her, “Maybe time spent away from this stuffy place.” After all, she would be of no use to anyone if she went mad in isolation.

She perked up at this, climbing down the ladder in her ridiculously lavish dress that felt more appropriate for a Court ball than a day spent indoors.

“Where will we be going?”

She stretched out her arms, breathing in the familiar scent of the woods. After trading in the dress for riding pants and a cloak, Lucien had led them out on horseback to the Western Woods, still close enough to the manor that they would be safe. Birds chirped lazily from their nests, drunk on honey and nectar and the wind whispered between the gaps in the trees. The spare bow Lucien had given her rested comfortably on her back. It wouldn’t be of much use in the hands of an untrained human, but if it made her feel more relaxed in his presence he would allow it.

Maybe I should strap a sword to her back when Tamlin’s around. Lucien thought with a silent chuckle, then immediately stopped. Tamlin would hate to see her armed.

He took the lead, a few paces in front with his own sword strapped to his side in a sheath of glimmering gold. Nora wondered if it had ever been used before.

“You said Tamlin’s been out hunting but you never told me what.” Nora said, breaking the fragile silence and surprising Lucien.

“A creature called a Bogge. A creature you should pray never to cross paths with. I assume you’ve come across it in your readings?” He turned in his seat, the tail of his riding cloak catching the light to shift between gold and forest green - colors fit for a bright autumn day.

Nora nodded, “A species of lesser fae. Children of one of the First Gods, Lanthys. Formless and filled with malice and hate, they don’t become real until you give them the power to become real by looking at them.”

The corner of Lucien’s mouth twisted in a half-smile. She sounded like a prized pupil that had been waiting for an examination.

“How do you fight it?” She asked, “In the Human Lands people say fae are vulnerable to iron and ashwood. Iron does nothing and most weapons here aren’t made from ashwood. So how do you kill other fae? How do you kill an idea?”

“You’ve been doing your research.”

“There’s been little else to do.” Nora said, looking off to the side as a squirrel darted out from the underbrush, “Boredom made me rather productive.”

“Like attracts like,” Lucien said, repeating the words that most high fae children heard first from their tutors, and then from soldiers and generals if they were ever trained in the art of warfare, “Like protects like, and like destroys like. Contradictory, I know, but it’s magic that can transform typical weapons into ones capable of killing other fae or magic embedded into fae-crafted weapons that give them power. Ashwood is special - it has a natural magic of its own that allows it to be deadly to us, even when wielded by humans. You can still find fae-crafted weapons with ashwood inlays.”

Nora pulled out a glistening silver arrow from her quiver. Sure enough, threaded through the metal as finely as veins in a living body, were slivers of gray-stained ashwood. Lucien slowed down to walk shoulder to shoulder with her, tracking the gentle sway of her body as she ran her fingers along the shaft of the arrow.

“As for the Bogge,” He continued, feeling her hang onto his every word, “Only a High Lord has the power capable of destroying it.”

She nodded thoughtfully, “Hence why Tamlin’s been hunting it for the last two weeks.”

Lucien stiffened in his seat, then swore loud enough for the sterlings nearby to take flight.

Nora chuckled - a sound he’d never heard before.

“How long have you known Tamlin was High Lord?”

Always. “Since the second night.” The lie rolled easily off her tongue, “I found a genealogy tome in the library. You’re in there too, obviously.”

At the briefest mention of his family, Lucien’s expression darkened and Nora knew not to brush the subject again. Memories, dark and terrible, floated behind his eyes almost as easy to read as a book. He schooled his face into one of bored neutrality, but there was a bite behind his words when he said, “Be careful of the things you learn, Nora.” It was the first time he’d ever said her name.

“If Tamlin’s a High Lord, the Bogge should be easy to track down and kill, shouldn’t it? He’s one of the most powerful beings in all of Prythian.”

Lucien set his teeth together. “It’s not as simple as that anymore.”

“And why not?”

“I can’t-” Lucien growled in frustration, rubbing at his temples and brushing against the borders of the mask on his face with hate. Strands of scarlet hair fell out from his elegant braid, as if highlighting his distress. The timing was almost perfect enough to be comedic. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? I’ve done my reading, magic is as much a part of Prythian as water is to the sea.” Just tell me about Amarantha - as much as you can say under the curse. Say the words and I’ll figure the rest out myself, “Nowhere does it mention the capacity for anything to go wrong with the-”

Lucien grabbed hold of Nora’s waist and dragged her over onto his horse, clamping one strong hand over her eyes and pressing her against his chest. Curses spilled from her mouth as she slapped him. She may as well have been hitting a stone wall.

Why the fuck are you so goddamn strong?

“Stop it. Stop it now.” Lucien hissed into the curve of her ear, fear lacing through every fiber of his voice. It was enough to make her freeze in her seat. “Don’t move. Don’t look. No matter what happens, don’t look.”

The tan of his face had been all but drained, leaving the space between the mask and his jaw pale and sickly. She felt it then, the presence of something lurking at the edges of her mind and soul. Something as old as time itself, ancient and horrible in every way imaginable. It waited outside of her mind, knocking and slamming its hands against doors and walls that remained firmly shut.

She clamped her eyes shut tightly enough to see sparks behind her eyelids and silently latched onto one arrow with a vice-like grip.

Lucien’s breath was trapped in his chest as that inky, devilish voice invaded his mind and made his stomach turn.

Look at me…Look at me. LOOK AT ME!

I will devour you whole - your flesh, your body, your soul. I will be your worst nightmare. I will drink your blood and gnaw on your bones.

Look at me.

Lucien flinched, pathetically attempting to steel his ever-weakening resolve against the Bogge’s temptations. Every cell in his body screamed at him to end his misery, to end it all and gaze upon the Bogge. Anything to stop this madness.

I will leave you for the crows. I will bury you in the earth.

LOOK AT ME.

I will fulfill all your desires. I will give you everything.

Nora waited with bated breath for the feeling to leave her and slowly but surely, she felt the turning of her stomach ebb away into nothingness.

“You can open your eyes now.” Lucien gasped out as he gestured for Nora to remain on his saddle and set the mare into a quick pace back to the manor. Nora’s horse followed close behind, edging ahead of them now that it had reason to run and lacked the weight of a rider.

“The Bogge?” Nora asked quickly.

Lucien nodded, taking the time to assure himself that Nora was alright. And she was… surprisingly. Aside from the pale tint to her skin and the way she leaned against his chest, curling in on herself as if he could shield her, she was handling it remarkably well.

Tamlin paced at the front doors, immediately alerted to Lucien and Nora’s presence in his lands when they emerged from the woods. His green eyes, alight with fury and fear at returning to an empty house, narrowed in on the pair. The riderless horse arrived first, chestnut brown coat slick with sweat and foaming at the mouth from exertion.

Lucien stilled, pulling at the reins ever so slightly and dreading what thoughts might be running through Tamlin’s mind. He’d taken Nora off the main grounds without permission, and nearly gotten the both of them killed in the process. From the way Tamlin’s jaw clenched at the sight of the two of them sharing a saddle, he was not pleased.

“Where the hell have you been?” Tamlin growled out when Lucien leapt off the horse. He brushed off Lucien’s hands and helped Nora down himself before she could say anything, hands gently grasping her waist.

When she was on solid ground he placed himself in between her and Lucien.

“Tamlin, I can explain.” Lucien said, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Explain it then.” He pushed back on Lucien’s chest and unlike the times when Nora had done so, he was forced to step back and regain his balance, “I come home expecting the two of you to be here. Next I hear you’ve disappeared into the Western Woods. Do you understand how dangerous these times are?! And for a human girl no less!”

“I wasn’t thinking-” Lucien stumbled over his words and his steps. Tamlin opened his mouth, anger and power rolling off his body.

“I asked him to go!” Nora shouted, pulling at Tamlin’s arm that was pointed firmly at Lucien’s chest. “I was bored to death in that house and I asked him to go. I begged him.”

A sliver of relief swam behind Lucien’s mask as Tamlin turned towards Nora. She immediately let him go and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself and making herself small.

“Don’t blame him.” She murmured, “It was my idea.”

“I suppose I should’ve done more to make sure you were taken care of.” He said through gritted teeth. None of the tension left his shoulders when he acknowledged Lucien once more, taking in the thinly veiled fear in his eyes, “What happened in the woods? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I nearly looked at the Bogge.”

Tamlin froze, “The Bogge? In the Western Woods?”

Lucien nodded.

“That’s impossible. I already checked every inch of those lands. The wards-” Tamlin bowed his head and cursed the ground beneath his feet. “Lucien, get Nora back to her room. And neither of you leave the manor until I get back. Understood?”

They both nodded as the ground beneath him began to glow. It was as if the land itself was draining its magic into Tamlin’s body, setting his skin alight in shades of bronze and gold. In the blink of an eye the beast that had first brought her to Prythian returned and Tamlin barreled towards the treeline.

“Come on, let’s go.” Lucien said, tilting his head towards where Alis waited by the front steps, gnarled hands as wrinkled as a tree branch twisting in front of her stomach. “I’ll walk her to her room, Alis.” He said.

She bowed deeply, sneaking a glance at the ruined state of Nora’s riding boots and the flecks of tree bark in her hair. But then her eyes softened and relief flooded in. The girl was safe. That was all that mattered.

“You did well, not looking.” Lucien said as they wove their way through the labyrinth of hallways and then finally stopped in front of her door. The words, thank you, lingered on the tip of his tongue, daring to dive out of his mouth.

Thank you for taking the fall for me today. Thank you for lying.

But instead he said, “Most fae fall for the Bogge’s temptations.”

Her brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

Lucien tilted his head in confusion, russet and gold eyes narrowing, “The Bogge speaks to you in your mind and shakes your soul. It promises you things great and terrible - anything to get you to look at it.”

Nora looked stealthily down to the floor, hiding her face and trying to match the lingering terror in Lucien’s countenance. She imagined she was painting an image of herself in his likeness.

Lucien gently held her shoulders, shaking her until she looked up at him with worry. He scanned her face, eyes widening, “You didn’t hear the Bogge, did you?”

“I did.” She lied, but he caught onto it.

“No… No you didn’t.” Lucien snapped his head up and looked around the empty hallway quickly. He bent down until she could look directly in his eyes and murmured desperately beneath his breath, “Tell no one about this.”

Nora gaped, “What?” She whispered back.

“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something strange about you, and that is dangerous. Tell no one.”

She nodded dumbly, stunned and overwhelmed by everything that had happened today. The weight of it crashed around her as chaotically as a tsunami. Lucien opened the door and ushered her in, giving her one last careful glance before leaving her to her thoughts.

________________

Taglist: @myheartfollower @impossibelle @chybay22 @lahoete

Author's note: Lucien deserves more love - that's it. That's the note. Oh also, apologies it's taken me so long to get this chapter out. Life has unfortunately happened.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #eventual azriel x oc #lucien x oc #lucien vanserra #tamlin the tool #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #acotar rewrite #the spring court #acotar spring court #eventual inner circle x oc #found family #writeblr #azriel shadowsinger

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mrslunasnape · 11 months

Text

Eye of The Beholder

This work was created for the Snapebang 2023! @snapebang

Author: @mrslunasnape Artist: @deathnotelu Artist: @okeydokeylackey Rating: PG Pairings: Severus Snape x OC Trigger Warnings: Bullying Tags: Teen Snape, Marauders Era, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Snape getting the love and support he deserves, bullying, inner monologue Summary: Severus comes from a hard upbringing. His father was abusive in multiple senses of the word. It's left him with an image of himself that he hates to look at. He's afraid to let anyone else really see him, for fear that they too might see him as the wretch that he sees himself as... Until his potions class partner challenges Severus to see him through her eyes.

“I want everyone to partner up! Partner up, everyone! Come now, let’s not slog about!” Professor Slughorn bellowed all too cheerily for a 7:00 in the morning class.

The room filled with the sound of students grumbling and the shuffling of feet as the practically zombie students took their seats.

The dungeons were dimly lit by candles on their last bit of wick. The bricks lining the walls were stained with the smell of smoke, ash, and herbs. An unusual ochre colored growth flourished in some of the cracks, but no one dared to investigate what it was.

“Do you want to be partners?” Luna nervously asked Severus.

“What?” Severus mumbled as he pried his focus away from his well loved potion’s textbook. He had been hunched over it, scribbling in any space he could find in the margins…which wasn’t a lot.

“For the assignment today, do you want to be my partner?” Luna repeated.

“I…um….yeah, sure.” Severus managed to get out before moving his satchel off the chair next to him to make room for her to sit.

Luna had dark chestnut hair that’s untamed curls spilled just past her shoulders. Her eyes were oceanic blue with a faint green lining around her pupils.

She was the middle child of the Black family, and it always seemed to perplex Severus that she would want anything to do with him. Her younger brother was cordial enough with him, but her older brother was downright cruel.

Severus was tall and lanky. His obsidian eyes housed no hidden flecks of light in them and matched the oil slick black hair that draped down to his chin. He was frequently referred to as a bat by the other students, and deep down Severus didn’t really ever blame them. He avoided looking in mirrors, not just because he didn’t like his physical appearance, but because he had a deep seeded fear that if he starred at the coal black eyes looking back at him in the mirror for too long that he would see himself. Really see himself. His father was a monster who abused both him and his mother, and he feared that a part of him slumbered deep within him. He was terrified that one day that part of him would awaken and turn him into his birthright; into a monster akin to his father.

Luna sat on the stool beside Severus and nervously tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

Gods. She can’t even look at me. Am I truly that hideous? Did I brush my hair this morning? Does it even matter? Focus, Severus.

“Amortentia!” Professor Slughorn announced as he lifted the lid off a large cast iron cauldron at the front of the room to reveal a swirling pink potion with a mother-of-pearl sheen to it. Most of the girls in the class giggled while several of the boys either groaned or mockingly made gagging noises.

Professor Slughorn ignored the commotion and continued, “A combination of the French word Amour, meaning love, and the Latin word Tentia, meaning held; the Amortentia potion can defined as a potion that reveals to us what we hold a special place in our heart for. What we love some might say.”

Professor Slughorn leaned over the swirling concoction and inhaled deeply; almost comically. He leaned back from the cauldron, his back practically crumpling as a euphoric exhale escape his lungs, “Ahhh, smells like success, fame, and recognition.” He chuckled heartily, “Many people make the mistake of thinking that the Amortentia smells only of romantic love, taking on the scent of the love interest of whomever smells it. Of course this is common enough, but it isn’t always the case. Some people have things that they love more than they love other people, and those smells often shine through in Amortentia. For example, the smell of money is a rather common one.”

Professor Slughorn turned his attention to Severus, who sat in the back row and was who once again preoccupied with the contents of his potion textbook, “I suspect Mr. Snape’s Amortenia would smell like books and ink. Honestly, my boy, I’m shocked how you manage to keep ink off that nose of yours with how close you get to that thing the parchment when you write.”

A few students chuckled.

Severus’s cheeks felt as if they were physically on fire.

Please don’t make them look at me.

“Now, while I appreciate your insatiable appetite for learning, Mr. Snape, I would kindly ask that you at least turn that desire to learn towards my lesson rather than your book.” Professor Slughorn lectured.

Severus grumbled something inaudible under his breath, but he returned his quill to its inkwell none the less.

“Moving on!” Professor Slughorn swished his hand in the air in a rather flamboyant manner, “Perhaps Amortentia is misnamed, for as we discussed earlier, its French route suggests it to be a potion of love. Of course, your average witch or wizard off the street will see it that way. But you, my dear students, are not common riff raff off the street! So learn well that Amortentia isn’t really about love at all. Sure, when you inhale its fumes each individual smells scents that appeals to their heart, but when the potion is consumed… well, now that’s a different story entirely.” Slughorn winked cheesily at the students.

“How can a love potion be dangerous?” A Slytherin boy taunted from the front row, “Oh no, my heart feels tingly now, so dangerous!” He pretended to faint into the arms of the student sitting next to him, who was all to eager to play the role of catching him and fanning his face.

Several boys laughed, while most of the girls in the glass shot him dagger eyes.

Professor Slughorn gave a muted chuckle, “That sounds like the talk of someone who has never experienced real love before.”

It was the girls turn to laugh.

Professor Slughorn continued, “Don’t be fooled, love is more dangerous than hate. Hate will make do unspeakable things to another in order to calm your own demons. Love will make you do unspeakable things to yourself in order to calm the demons of another.”

The fainting boy rolled his eyes.

“But, as I was saying, Amortentia is not truly a love potion, but rather an essence of love potion… and the worst essence of it. Despite how many skilled potioneers have tried over the centuries, none have been able to authentically recreate the emotion of love. If they had, they would be exuberantly wealthy and love potions would certainly not be sold from tacky little fountains at Zonko’s.” Professor Slughorn said as he side-eyed a Hufflepuff girl seated in the second row.

The girl had a tiny pink crystalline vial that housed a potion with a mother-of-pearl sheen to it. A distinct Zonkos label was plastered on the vial which read “Aphrodite Amortenia”. She was showing it off to a small group of girls who were huddled over it like a secret treasure. Upon being called out by the professor, she quickly shoved it into her satchel and flashed a weak smile.

Professor Slughorn pulled a small plastic comb from his chest pocket and brushed his hair back neatly, “No, Amortentia does not create love. It creates obsession. Specifically, it creates an obsession for the person who administered the potion to whomever drank it. While not love, obsession will certainly still make you do crazy things. People have killed for less.”

The room fell awkwardly silent.

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together in front of him, the loud echo bouncing off the stone dungeon walls breaking the silence, “Well then, let’s get to brewing, shall we? Open your text books to page 493.”

Severus opened his textbook to Amortentia section, which to his potion partner’s surprise, was already filled well into the margins with notes in tiny fine print.

“You’ve already done your research I see.” Luna said playfully as she nodded her head towards Severus’s book.

“I like to read ahead…” Severus said mousily as his thumb caressed the worn pages of his well loved textbook.

Luna leaned in closer to read the small ink scratchings in the margins. There was so much written in such a tiny area that she had to squint in order to make the writing legible. There were corrections to ingredient measurements, recommended cauldron temperatures, substitute ingredients, and even notes on various ways to procure oils and seeds from herbs.

“Wow.” She whispered.

“I know, it’s a mess. My handwriting isn’t very good and some of the notes overlap because I was trying to squeeze in some information and there’s not a lot of space to work with but-”

“Severus, you’re brilliant.” Luna cut him off.

Surely I heard her wrong.

Severus’s face, normally almost as pale as the castle ghosts, faded to a sweet shade of pink. “Really?”

Luna’s fingertip traced along the lines of handwritten notes, “Yes. Really” She paused and looked up at him with a tender smile. “I should have you tutor me.”

“Oh, well…” Severus stumbled over his words.

“Mr. Snape. Ms. Black. This is the last time I’m going to ask for your attention.” Professor Slughorn scolded.

Severus and Luna’s faces both went red and their shoulders hunched with embarrassment as once again turned their attention to Professor Slughorn.

“The particular version of Amortentia that we will be brewing today was developed by Hogwarts Alumni Laverne de Montmorency. We’ll be using the following ingredients. Ahem.” Professor Slughorn cleared his throat before picking up each clear glass jar on his desk and holding it up so that the students could get a better view of each ingredient, “Ashwinder eggs. The eggs of this fiery serpent will help us to draw in the fiery energy of passion. Rose thorns, to remind us that love often hurts. Powdered moonstone, also known as the wishing stone, to enhance the desire for love. Pearl dust, known traditionally to help with heart conditions. Today it will aid us in a rather unconventional definition of a heart condition. And of course, rose petals, a timeless symbol of love. You’ll find the proper measurements for each of these outlined in your textbook, along with how to prepare them. We have about an hour left in class. That should be ample enough time for you to brew a small batch of Amortentia.”

Luna turned her attention back to her own textbook, “It says here the first step is to grind the moonstone and pearl down into dust using a mortar and pestle.” She dropped the gems into the mortar on their shared desk and began to twist her wrist back and forth in a feeble attempt to grind the stones into dust.

“It works better if you go in a circular motion.” Severus said barely audibly.

“What?” Luna questioned, not hearing him over the sound of several sets of mortar and pestles grinding around the room.

“Like this.” Severus said as he reached out and grabbed the pestle, his slender hand firmly placed on top of hers as he guided her to move the pestle in a grand circular motion encircling the entire inside of the mortar.

Luna turned her head to thank him, and quickly found her face so close to his that she could feel the warmth of his breath. The tip of his unique nose practically touched hers.

Severus, startled, quickly released his grip on the pestle and jumped back. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.” Luna said in unison with his sorry, “Wait, what?”

“Nothing.” Severus added nervously.

Why can’t I just act normal for once? This is why you have no friends.

Severus cracked the Ashwinder eggs and added them to the bubbling cauldron in silence as Luna finished grinding the powder. He tossed the shells into the bin and then turned back to face her, “Rose thorns and petals are next.”

A bouquet of gorgeous red roses sat in a spiral vase on the desk. The pair set to work carefully plucking the velvety petals from the flower and using a small paring knife to extract the thorns from the stem.

Art by @deathnotelu Instagram: amber_dnl

“Ouch!” Luna exclaimed as she dropped her knife on the table with a clatter. A small crimson droplet began to bloom on her thumb.

“Did you cut yourself?” Sever asked, clearly concerned.

“Yeah, but it’s not bad.” Luna said as she sucked on her small cut in an attempt to cull the sting.

Severus winced, “Don’t do that. It’s not good for the wound.”

Luna pulled her thumb back out from her mouth and a small droplet of blood once again formed on the tip of her finger.

Severus picked up his satchel from the ground and began to furiously dig around in it. Finally he pulled out a small bandage roll and a tiny vial of a fine yellow powder.

“What’s that?” Luna asked.

“Yarrow powder.” Severus responded, “It helps to stop bleeding.” He held her hand still with one hand and with the other carefully sprinkled some of the pine smelling powder onto her cut. He then proceeded to tightly wrap her finger with a small cloth bandage. “There.”

“I’m lucky you carry around first aid supplies.” Luna said with a smile.

“I get hurt a lot.” Severus said solemnly.

Luna felt her heart sink a little, “Thank you, Severus.”

I must seem so pathetic.

“Any time.” He meekly responded as he tucked his supplies back into his satchel.

Severus scooped up the collection of thorns they had made and tossed them into the brew. He began to stir methodically, one clockwise rotation followed by two counterclockwise rotation. He repeated this patten over and over as the potion began to swirl and shift colors in the cauldron.

Luna watched him curiously and then looked back down to her textbook, which clearly indicated to only stir the potion clockwise. She was going to bring this discrepancy up to him, but before her very eyes the brew began to shimmer with the telltale mother-of-pearl glow that only Amortentia produces. In fact, the shimmer of their potion seemed to surpass what was in Professor Slughorn’s own cauldron. They certainly had gotten theirs to shift colors faster than everyone else in the room.

Luna began to lean over the potion in an attempt to smell what unique scent the potion would create for her, but Severus reached his arm out in front of her and stopped her before she could get too close.

“Hold on.” He instructed. Severus peered over to Professor Slughorn, who was chatting up a Ravenclaw girl who was rumored to be the top of their class about joining his Slug Club. Seizing his opportunity, Severus slipped to the back of the classroom and into the storage closet. A mere moments later he returned holding a vial of tiny bright green leaves.

“What is that?” Luna whispered as to not attract any attention.

“Peppermint leaves.” Severus responded with a devilish grin only worn by those who have completed a successful heist.

“That’s not on the ingredient list.” Luna said curiously.

“It’s on mine.” Severus said proudly as he pointed to his textbook. Sure enough, scribbled in his own handwriting at the bottom of the ingredient list: peppermint leaves - finely chopped not crushed.

“Are you sure? Have you tried this before?” Luna questioned.

Only about a hundred times.

A warm smile melted onto Severus’s face as he finely chopped the small green leaves into the most delicate little pieces.

Luna couldn’t help but stare at him as he worked. His long slender fingers had a way of dancing with the knife. His face, which all too often had a cold and solemn look to it, now had a warm smile that while subtle, seemed to bring color to his entire face. He was beautiful, completely in his element.

Severus carefully scooped up the chopped peppermint and placed it into Luna’s hand, “Here. You do the honors.”

Luna hesitated, but when she saw the pure anticipation on Severus’s face she tossed the leaves into the cauldron. The spirals of purple smoke that were chaotically spurting out of the cauldron appeared to calm and find a consistent pattern.

“Huh.” Luna mused, clearly impressed.

Severus took a step closer to her and smiled, “Peppermint removes the rather unpleasant side effect of the drinker singing out of tune love songs.”

Luna giggled.

“You can try to smell it now.” Severus said, his head nodding towards the cauldron encouragingly.

Luna leaned over the swirling shimmering pink potion and inhaled deeply, her mind racing about all the different possibilities of scents she would smell. She paused and then stood up with a look of disappointment plastered on her face.

Oh, shit. Did I mess up?

“What?” Severus questioned.

“I don’t smell anything.” Luna said, “Are you sure the peppermint didn’t mess with it?”

“I’m certain.” Severus said sternly, “What do you mean you don’t smell anything?”

“I mean it doesn’t have a smell. It smells the same leaning over the cauldron as it does standing right where I am now.” Luna said.

“Huh.” Severus lifted a hand and rubbed his chin as if deep in thought, “Maybe what you love is Slughorn’s potions class.”

Luna laughed and playfully smacked Severus on the shoulder, “Oh, shut it, you.”

Severus gave a chuckle, and Luna realized this was the first time she had really ever heard him genuinely laugh. It was rich and deep.

“So it really smells like the classroom to you?” Severus pushed.

“I mean, not the classroom per say. The dungeon certainly has a distinct smell to it… I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not the dungeon itself that I smell. It’s just that where I’m standing right here smells no different to me than the Amortentia does.” Luna attempted to explain.

“Can you be more specific?” Severus asked.

Luna closed her eyes and inhaled, “It smells like sandalwood, blood oranges, ink, parchment, and the singe of smoke you get on your fingertips when you’ve spent too much time working with a potion.”

Severus looked down at his ink stained fingers. For a brief moment he hoped that it was him that she was smelling, but he quickly shoved that feeling down into a bottle with the rest of his emotions.

“Oh, just wonderful!” Professor Slughorn sang as he clamored his way over to the pair.

Startled, both Luna and Severus jumped before turning their attention to Professor Slughorn, who was now bent practically in half deeply inhaling the vapors coming out of their cauldron.

When he finally pried himself away from the vapors of their concoction his eyes were glazed over as if he were drunk.

“You two have done a wonderful job! Absolutely superb! Quite the potions pair you two make! Well done! 25 points to Slytherin for each of you on a job well done.” Professor Slughorn mused as he walked off towards the next pair of students, his walk a little more wobbly than usual.

“Oh, Gods!” Professor Slughorn groaned, his face practically turning green. “What did you two do?” his voice was now comically nasally as he had pinched his nose to not smell the brew in the student’s cauldron that was just as offcolor as Professor Slughorns skin.

The class erupted in laughter. Except for the pair who had made the disastrous brew, who began to melt out of pure embarrassment into their stools.

Idiots.

Professor Slughorn walked to the front of the room and removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket. It was painfully discolored, suggested not only that it was not just for show, but also that it was not washed frequently enough. He obnoxiously blew his nose and then tucked the dirty hanky back into his pocket. “Now then, I must remind you that love potions are banned here at Hogwarts. So please, no smuggling out any samples from todays class.” Professor Slughorn motioned towards the previous pair of student’s cauldron, “Especially yours. Who knows what that would do.” He skin began to shift to that nauseating green once more just thinking about the foul smell that pair had managed to create.

Professor Slughorn returned his attention to the Hufflepuff girl from earlier in the lesson, “Which reminds me. I’m going to need to confiscate that vial from Zonko’s.”

The girl grumbled, but handed over the vial to Professor Slughorn, who promptly tugged the vial into the tiny pocket hidden inside his jacket.

Severus and Luna walked out of the classroom together, but Severus stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sirius leaning against the stone wall just opposite the classroom door.

The Hufflepuff girl and her group of friends were now huddled around Sirius, vying for his attention. Sirius was clearing basking in the radiance of their attention, but he was clearly not interested in any of them.

Why do so many girls look at him like that? Can’t they see him for what he really is?

“Lunch?” Sirius asked casually as he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on with his back and strolled towards Luna.

Luna hesitated a minute and turned to look at Severus, who had looked away pretending to be preoccupied with something else.

If I don’t make eye contact maybe he will leave me alone for once.

“Yeah, sure, I’m hungry.” Luna finally answered.

“Great. Meet you in the hall with the guys.” Sirius smiled and headed off. The pack of hormonal girls followed him like lemmings.

Luna turned to look at Severus, “Are you going to lunch too?”

“What?” Severus asked surprised.

“Are you hungry? You can come to the Great Hall with me.” Luna questioned.

She’s just being nice to me because she pities me.

“Oh… No, thank you. I was just going to go for a walk outside. Maybe read some by the lake.” Severus gave a slight smile.

“That actually sounds really nice.” Luna adjusted her satchel over her shoulder, “Maybe I’ll just grab something to go from the Hall and see you out there.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Severus said.

“I want to.” Luna replied cheerfully.

Severus’s smile was genuine this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Severus sighed in relief as he relished the feeling of the cool early autumn air as it kissed his skin. The temperature had just started to drop, but the leaves hadn’t begun to change colors just yet. He felt a weight come off his shoulders as he walked out of the castle walls. The loud hustle and bustle of the castle hallways was replaced by a comforting silence that enveloped him in a hug and calmed his nerves.

He loved going outside to walk or read during lunch. Any other time of day there were plenty of people out walking the grounds, but at this particular time of day he had them all to himself.

Usually.

“Hey Snivellus!” a shrill voiced called out from behind him.

Seriously?

Severus froze in his tracks, and his grip on the leather bound book in his hands tightened so much that his knuckles went white. For a moment he stood there in silence, his breath labored with inner rage, silently praying that they would just leave. He spun around quickly, “That’s not my name.” Severus snarled.

“That’s not my name.” James Potter mocked while making a pigish face. Sirius, Peter, and James all laughed. Remus and Lily hung back nervously, but neither did anything to deter their friends behavior.

James strutted towards Severus, a rather nasty grin plastered on his smug face, “I see you’re out to lunch with all your friends.” James mocked as he motioned towards the empty grounds.

Severus’s lips pressed tightly together in attempt to keep his rage from spilling out. He hugged his book to his chest, but remained silent.

Just leave me alone.

“Whatcha reading?” Sirius teased in a sing-song voice as he reached for the book.

“None of your business.” Severus responded coldly.

“Come on now, don’t be like that Snivellus.” Sirius goaded, the devil burning in his eyes.

“I told you, that’s not my name.” Severus spat, his voice now shaking with rage. He was finding it harder to swallow the venom of the beast that lay dormant within him.

“Ooooh hoooo, tough guy?” Peter chimed in, practically tripping as he stepped closer to Severus. His voice cracked when he spoke.

James scoffed, “The dungeon bat gets out of his cavern for one day and suddenly thinks he can take on the world.”

“Come on, let me just have a peak at the bloody book.” Sirius pushed as he once again lunged for the book. The cheery tone in his voice was gone and replaced with impatience teetering on anger.

Severus stepped back to dodge Sirius’s advances, but tripped on a tree root sticking out of the ground behind him. He stumbled and fell backwards. The stinging on his backside felt like nothing compared to the stinging that he now felt in his pride.

“Pathetic.” James sneered as he pushed his crooked glasses with one finger back up to their correction position on his nose.

Severus attempted to get up, but just as he was getting back to his feet, James reached into his robes and aimed his wand at Severus.

“Expelliarmus!” James shouted and Severus’s wand went flying from his hand, landing in some rather tall grass.

Panicked, Severus began frantically searching for his wand in the tall grass, tossing fistfuls of clumps of weeds and brush to the sides.

Come on, come on!

“Impedimenta!” James shouted, sending Severus once again tumbling to the ground.

This time he fell face first, his jaw smashing against a protruding sharp rock. The pain was instantaneous. Blood began to drip from his chin.

Severus’s thoughts went blank.

“You fucking asshole!” Severus shouted as he wiped his chin and looked down to see his fingertips covered in blood. Another drop fell from his chin and mixed with the dirt at his feet. His gaze returned to the clan of bullies, his obsidian eyes darkening beyond imagine.

“Tsk tsk” Sirius tutted, “What a filthy mouth you’ve got on you, Snivellus.” He placed a hand on his chest and feigned disgust.

“I can fix that.” James jeered, “Scourgify!”

Bright pink soap bubbles began to foam within Severus’s mouth and pour out his lips. They dripped down his face, mixing in a rather unpleasant manner with the blood on his chin. It made his fresh wound singe and burn. The taste was foul and Severus began to choke on the foam building up in his throat that prevented him from breathing properly. He felt as if he was going to be sick, but he stifled the urge to vomit for hear that he might asphyxiate.

“Ha, nice one James.” Peter egged him on. His rat-like face contorted in a rather disturbing smile.

“And now, for the grand finale” James announced, waving his wand arm in the air like a twisted circus ringleader, “Levicorpus.”

Severus began to slowly float in the air. His body writhed in a feeble attempt to keep his feet on the ground. He was about ten feet in the air when his body began to twist to turn him upside down.

“Let’s take a peak under those robes, shall we? Let’s see if you have the equipment to back up the attitude you just gave me.” James spit furiously.

Please.

Lily and Remus both looked horrified, but neither one of them made any attempt to stop James. They simply stood there and watched it happen.

Severus desperately attempted to scream for help, but the pink soap bubbles formed a gag.

I want to die.

“Expelliarmus!” a familiar female voice shouted.

James’s wand went flying from his grimy paw, and the moment it left his hands Severus was dropped back down to the earth with a loud thud.

James turned towards the voice, his face beat red with rage, spit foaming around his lips as he screamed, “Who the fu-”

“Flipendo.” Luna whispered with a soft rage, interrupting James mid sentence and sending him flying backwards into the field of grass where Severus’s wand was still lost.

“Luna!” Sirius scolded, “What the hell was that for?”

“What do you mean what was that for? Look at him!” Luna practically screamed as she motioned towards Severus who was just now getting back on his feet. He was covered in a mixture of dirt, soap, and blood that formed a rather repulsive color when mixed together.

“Oh, come on. It’s just Snivellus.” Sirius grumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair. A nervous habit of his from childhood.

“His name is Severus.” Luna said sternly, noticing the moment of weakness in her brother.

“Whatever.” Sirius scoffed as he reached out a hand and helped James back to his feet, “Come on, let’s just go.”

As the group headed back to the castle, Luna stood there, her chest rapidly rising and falling with labored breath. When she was sure that they weren’t going to return, she turned around and headed over to Severus, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Severus said, clearly trying to hold back tears.

She must think I’m so pathetic.

“What am I saying? Of course you’re not okay.” Luna sighed and picked up Severus’s satchel. She reached inside and pulled out a familiar small vial of fine yellow powder, “Is this the yarrow powder?”

“Yes.” Severus responded meekly.

Luna popped the cork off the vial and poured a little bit of the fine powder onto Severus’s chin. He winced. “Sorry.” Luna whispered as she winced sympathetically.

“It’s not your fault.” He responded.

“All the same.” Luna smiled softly as she gingerly wiped his wound clean with first aide supplies she found in Severus’s satchel.

“I told you I get hurt a lot.” Severus gave a half-hearted laugh, but there was a darkness to his tone.

Luna frowned, “Please tell me this doesn’t happen all the time.”

Please don’t look at me like that.

“Not all the time.” Severus groaned as Luna wiped his wound, “… Just sometimes.”

Luna sighed, “I’m sorry.”

She thinks I’m pathetic. I am pathetic.

“I told you, it’s not your fault.” Severus repeated sternly.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

“Are you hungry?” Luna asked.

“What?” Severus responded.

Luna reached into her own satchel and pulled out two sandwiches, “I stopped at the Great Hall before coming out here. I know you said you were going to come out here to walk and read by the lake. I figured you’d be hungry… and I was hoping that maybe I could join you?”

What the hell?

“S-sure” Severus said, his voice clearly a little shaky.

Luna beamed and handed him one of the sandwiches. Severus took it from her with a faint smile. After relocating Severus’s wand in the brush, the two made their way down the path a bit until they came to a large oak tree on a hill just above the lake. It’s looming height suggested it had been there for years, perhaps as longer than the school had been open. There was a distinct patch of dirt at the base of the tree where grass had clearly stopped growing decades ago. It was obvious that over the years many students had sat here gazing out at the waters of the lake.

“This is one of my favorite spots.” Severus said as he took a seat at the base of the tree.

“It’s beautiful.” Luna remarked as she sat down next to him.

They sat in silence, eating their lunch and watching the wind blow little ripples of water across the lake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

“No, no, don’t cut it.” Severus said as he quickly snatched the silver dagger from Luna’s hand.

“What?” Luna boggled at him, “Did I mess something up already?”

“Technically, no.” Severus grinned.

Luna’s forehead crinkled with confusion.

“You get the juices out of the Sopophorous bean much more effectively if you crush it with the dagger instead of cutting it.” Severus said as he methodically pressed the shimmering silver blade at an odd angle into the bean against the cutting board. There was a soft crackle sound as the exocarp cracked open and thick silver juice oozed out from the pearly white bean.

“Where did you learn that little trick?” Luna questioned.

“Trial and error.” Severus responded as he poured the Sopophorous juices into the cauldron. He flicked his wand at large hooked spoon in the cauldron and it began to stir. It mixed the contents seven times counterclockwise before stopping, reversing direction for one stir, and then continued to repeat this pattern.

Luna watched the ladle dance in the cauldron and then peered back down at her textbook for a moment before turning her gaze to Severus, “Is this trial and error too? The extra clockwise spin?”

Severus simply smiled.

“You’re really something else you know that.” Luna praised.

“What?” Severus practically stuttered, “No, I’m not.”

“Don’t be modest. You’re bloody brilliant, Sev.” Luna beamed.

A faint rosey pink flushed Severus’s face.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were teaching this class one day. Hell, teaching your techniques to all the potioneers of the world.” Luna said earnestly.

“It’s just a few tweaks. Nothing major.” Severus insisted as his gaze moved to the floor.

“I wish you could see you like I do.” Luna resigned.

“… What?” Severus questioned.

“Oh, excellent work you too! You’re turning out to be quite the potioneer duo!” Professor Slughorn chimed as he leaned deeply over the still stirring cauldron to peer inside. “As a matter of fact, I was wondering, Miss Black, if you would be interested in a little soirée I’m holding this weekend. I call it my Slug Club. It’s rather exclusive. I only invite students who I think really have potential to make waves in the wizarding world. What do you say?”

“Actually, Professor, If you’re looking for wizards who will change the world one day, you should really be asking Severus to attend. He’s the brilliant mind behind our success in your class.” Luna insisted.

What?

“Well then, my invitation extends to you my boy. What do you say Mister Snape?” Professor Slughorn solicited.

You can’t say no now that she stuck her neck out for you.

“Um… Sure.” Severus mumbled.

“And you, Miss Black?” Professor Slughorn pushed.

“Of course.” Luna replied.

“Excellent!” Professor Slughorn said emphatically as he open his jacket and procured a pair of embossed party invitations. “I do so look forward to seeing you both there. Please dress formally.”

Ugh, what did I just agree to?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

When Severus wandered into the Slytherin common room after his last class of the day had concluded, Luna and Regulus were sitting together on black leather couch in the center of the room in front of a roaring fire. Luna had a parcel on her lap that was wrapped with brown paper and tied with a simple string. The two appeared to be huddled close together like thieves and laughing.

“Dad is going to kill you if he finds out.” Regulus chuckled.

“Oh, please. He has like a thousand of them. He’s never going to notice if just one of them goes missing.” Luna rolled her eyes.

Curious.

“Evening.” Severus drawled.

Luna and Regulus practically jumped out of their skin, like children caught misbehaving by their parents.

Severus’s eyebrow peaked at this behavior, “Up to no good are we?” he teased.

“No.” Luna said defensively.

“Yes.” Regulus said at the same time as Luna’s denial with a rather cheeky smile plastered across his face.

Luna gave Regulus a playful smack on the shoulder and Regulus laughed heartily in return.

“Come on, join us in our bad behavior.” Regulus teased as he scooted over to allow Severus to sit between him and his sister. He gently patted the spot on the couch in a welcoming manner.

What’s the catch?

Severus cautiously sat down between them.

“Here.” Luna said as she pressed the parcel into Severus’s lap, “This is for you.”

There it is.

“It isn’t my birthday.” Severus said cautiously.

“I wasn’t aware that I needed a special occasion to give a gift.” Luna tormented, “Just open it!”

Severus surgically opened the parcel, taking special care to unfold each little bit of paper instead of simply shredding it. When he finally had it unraveled, a cloak as dark as the night sky lay on the brown parchment.

It’s gorgeous.

“Try it on!” Luna exclaimed. The smile on her face was akin to innocent excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

Severus hesitated, but Regulus gave him a gentle push on the shoulder with his own shoulder, “Come on, Sev.”

Did he just call me Sev? Are we… friends?

Severus stood up and began to fasten the cloak, his slender fingers making quick work of the ties. The cloak enveloped him.

“It looks fantastic.” Luna beamed, her eyes widening to take him all in.

“Well, yeah.” Regulus scoffed, “It’s dad’s. It’s expensive. Of course it looks good.”

“It’s what?!” Severus exclaimed as he began to undo the cloak with a look of pure panic in his eyes.

Luna shot up from the couch and grabbed Severus’s hands to stop him, “It’s fine, Sev. I had Kreacher mail it to me. My father has tons of these, he’s never going to notice one missing.”

“I really don’t want to bring the wrath of Orion Black upon myself.” Severus said nervously.

“Kreacher won’t tell him. Really. He isn’t that loyal to my dad. Now if I had tried to get him to take something from mother… Well that would have been a completely different story.” Luna grinned.

“You’d be dead for sure. Both of you. And Kreacher. And probably me. And Sirius too for good measure.” Regulus chuckled.

Severus gulped.

“I got you this.” Luna said as she tidied up the bits of the cloak that Severus had undone, “So that you could feel like the superhero that you are. You know, like a cape.”

Oh Gods.

Regulus almost choked on his own spit from trying to contain his laughter.

“Don’t.” Luna warned as she pointed a threatening finger at her brother.

Regulus mimed locking his lips with a key and tossing it to the side before raising his arms like a criminal being arrested.

“I know it sounds silly… and maybe childish” Luna said tentatively, “But when you have this on I want you to see you like I see you. Brilliant. Caring. Strong.”

“I’m not..” Severus began, but he was quickly interrupted.

“You are.” Luna insisted, “When you wear this cloak, I want you to feel like a superhero. To be brave.”

Regulus shot up to his feet, “Like this, Sev.” Regulus stood with his feet firmly planet, his chest puffed up, and his hands resting on his hips like a hero right out of a comic book.

They aren’t messing with me… this is genuine.

Severus laughed nervously, and replicated Regulus’s pose, albeit with much less confidence.

“I love it.” Luna giggled as she clasped her hands in front of her chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Severus crooked his neck in a feeble attempt to see past the towering stack of books that he held as he maneuvered from the Restricted Section of the library to a small table in the corner of the room where he hoped to read undisturbed. His face contorted in a wince as his hip banged against the corner of a bookshelf on the side of his book tower that he couldn’t see.

“Aw, hurt ourself, did we Snivellus?” a familiar voice taunted.

Severus froze in his tracks, the book at the very top of the stack fell to the ground with a thud.

“Looks like you dropped something.” A second familiar voice chimed in, “Here, let me help.”

Can’t I just have one day…

The tower of books came crashing down to the ground, revealing James and Sirius in their wake. James had smacked the books from Severus’s hands, and stood there with a smug look on his face. “Oops.”

Severus looked down at the books strewn on the floor, some of which had had their spines cracked. He felt a rage building up inside him that longed to be unfettered.

The pair of boys began to cackle like the witches in muggle fairy tales, watching Severus’s burning gaze towards the ground.

“You’re so clumsy. Did you get some of the grease from your hair on your hands? That’s probably why you dropped that.” James sneered.

Normally Severus would sulk away and have an imaginary argument with his bullies in his mind when he got back to the dormitory. He would think of all the things that he wanted to say but never had the courage or the confidence to in person. Today was different. As he stared at the books on the floor he caught a glimpse of the bottom of his cloak billowing in the light draft that always seemed to be present in the library. Flashes of him and Regulus posing like super heroes in the common room while Luna laughed went through his mind. And he felt brave.

I don’t deserve this.

“Do you have no respect for anything?” Snape annunciated each work with deadly precision as he slowly raised his gaze from the floor to meet James. His obsidian orbs darkened like night as the hurt and rage he had spent years bottling up poured out of him.

Rage from being an outcast. Rage from being tormented relentlessly. Rage from being beat and called names from his father. Rage from his mother who watched it all happen. Rage from the dark thoughts that he poised his own mind with about himself.

James took a step backwards, caught off guard by the sudden change of demeanor, “Wha-”

Severus cut him off abruptly, “Do you have any idea how valuable these books are?”

James snorted, “Valuable? They’re a couple of ugly books. They’ve got torn pages and broken spines.”

Severus gave an exhausted sigh, “The value of things does not lie in their appearance.”

“That sounds like shit ugly people say.” Sirius chuckled.

Severus scoffed, “I am constantly amazed at the level of delusion people must possess to think that beauty is the same as goodness. The ladies may swoon over you now, but your ugly hearts will rot you from the inside out. I only pray that I am there to witness the day people finally see you for who you really are.”

Severus gathered his books, taking the time to inspect each one for damage before placing it on the desk next to him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sirius said, his chest puffed out defensively.

“It means I hope you choke.” Severus said coldly as he sat down and began to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

“Gods, please tell me that you actually said that last bit.” Regulus said eagerly, perched on the edge of the leather couch in the common room, “And I mean out loud, not in your head.”

Severus gave a lighthearted chuckle, “I did.”

Regulus fell back into the couch and full on belly laughed, “Oh, I can’t wait to tease Sirius about this. Good on you, Sev. It’s about time you stood up to that lot.”

Luna walked up to Severus and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a deep hug, “I’m so proud of you.”

I’m proud of me too.

Severus stood with his arms awkwardly straight as his sides, still as a statue as Luna hugged him. His body may have been frozen in that position, but inside his heart flicked with an unusual warmth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Severus broke himself out of his self-induced trance and finally looked up from his potions textbook. How long had he been at it? He could have sworn the sun was still up when he had started, but it was dark now. He could, and frequently did, lose himself in his studies.

He looked back down to his book and glanced over the tiny handwritten notes scattered among the margins. He was more than just a few chapters ahead of the class, he was practically finished with the book. He yawned, but caught himself just before his hand reached his mouth and pulled it away. It was absolutely covered in ink stains.

He closed his worn textbook and tossed it into his leather satchel. He gathered the rest of his things quietly, after all he wasn’t sure what time it was, and he didn’t want to disturb anyone else in the dorms.

He made his way quietly to the bathroom and dropped his satchel on the floor next to the door. The echoing thud of his bag hitting the ceramic tiles of the floor let him know that he was alone. He locked the door behind him, sighed wearily, and began to undress. He always showered late at night so that he didn’t have to deal with other people. The thought that someone might see him disrobed absolutely horrified him. Hell, he even avoided looking in the mirror during his evening routine.

Severus procured a small bottle from his satchel. It was a special shampoo blend that he had crafted for himself. Plenty of people had referred to him as “greasy” and he was experimenting with creating his own blend that would alleviate this issue.

He turned the shower water on, but remained outside the stall allowing the water to heat up. Dancing waves of steam poured out of the shower stall and began to fill the room. The mirrors fogged over and he no longer felt worried about catching a glimpse of himself. He popped the stopper off the bottle and absentmindedly took a whiff of his shampoo. It smelled delightful, like sandalwood and blood orange. Severus froze for a moment as his thoughts raced.

It was at this moment that he noticed the light singe of smoke on his fingertips from working with cauldrons and the splotches of ink along the sides of his fingers and his palms.

Earlier in the week when Luna had described what she smelled in the Amortentia… it couldn’t be.

But there it was, both in and on his hands. Sandalwood, blood orange, smoke, and ink. What she had smelled was him. He shook his head dismissively, as if to shake his own thoughts out of his head.

Surely not?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Severus sat uncomfortably next to Regulus on the black leather couch near the fireplace of the Slytherin common room. He was dressed in a high collared dress robe of varying shades of black and grey. He had also included the cloak that Luna had gifted him. The robes long sleeves with tightly clasped buttons and equally buttoned up beck ensured that very little if any of himself was showing. He felt more secure by hiding his body away behind those buttons. Each one a tiny shield fighting off anyone from seeing him underneath.

He couldn’t sit still, and found his hands constantly fidgeting with the buttons on his clothes. The thread in the button over his wrist had begun to fray as a result. Butterflies danced in his stomach.

This isn’t a date. This is a professor led social event. This isn’t a date.

“You alright, mate?” Regulus asked with one eyebrow peaked.

“What?” Severus said rather surprised. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he had almost forgotten that Regulus was even in the room.

“You’re all…” Regulus fumbled his own hands around rather dramatically, mimicking Severus’s hands, “I don’t know. All twitchy.”

“I’m fine.” Severus assured him as he clasped his hands together and forced them to behave and sit still. The frayed button was all too obvious now and it pained him that he didn’t have time to stitch it to be more presentable before the party.

A sound of a heavy door shutting from the girls upper dormitory entrance filled the room, causing both boys to snap their attention upwards.

Luna was adorned with a black and green layered dress. The top was black with long sleeves and black buttons running down the sides of her waist. The second layer of fabric peaked out beneath the top layer and was emerald green with black lace florals ontop. A small black silk bow was tied in the center of her collar.

“That looks new” Regulus smiled as he went over and gave his sister a hug, “You’re gonna drive those nerds at Slughorn’s party nuts.”

Luna giggled and playfully smacked Regulus, “Shut up.”

“Fine. You look ugly. Is that better?” Regulus teased.

Stop it.

Luna full on belly laughed now.

“A right old maid. You’ll be single your whole life. Mum and Dad will get no grandchildren from you, that’s for sure.” Regulus continued to speak over Luna’s laughter.

“That’s enough.” Severus said sternly.

“What? Don’t you think my sister looks ugly, Sev?” Regulus tormented, “What’s the issue? Do you fancy her, Severus?”

“N-no. Of course not.” Severus stuttered.

Luna stopped laughing. She felt her heart sink to the very pit of her stomach.

“I’m just teasing.” Regulus assured him, “Just keep an eye on her at the dance, yeah? Don’t let any of those nerds get too fresh with her. Bring her back in one piece.”

“I will” Severus smiled nervously.

“Good, because I really would hate to kill you. I actually kinda like you.” Regulus had a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Regulus!” Luna scolded him.

Regulus simply chuckled, “Go on now, you’re gonna be late.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Severus and Luna walked down the empty halls, the light from the tips of their wands the only thing pushing back the pitch black darkness. It was late at night, and most of the school was sequestered to their dormitories. They, along with the other attendees of the Slug Club, had been granted special privileges to be out late tonight to attend Professor Slughorn’s soirée.

Their footsteps echoed so loudly that they bounced off the walls and gave the illusion that someone was walking behind them.

Luna inched closer and closer to Severus as they made their way down the hall until finally the side of her arm was brushing against his.

The sudden sensation of another touching him startled Severus, and the nervousness he felt only heightened as he turned to see Luna’s face lit up faintly by the glow of their wands next to him.

“Sorry.” She whispered, as if they weren’t the only two people in the hall. “Just a bit nervous in the dark.”

“I’m right here.” Severus reassured her.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to Professor Slughorns office. Every now and then the natural sway in their arms from walking would cause their hands to graze one another. Each time it sent a cold panic into Severus, like ice shards piercing his heart.

They gave the secret knock that Professor Slughorn insisted everyone in the Slug Club memorize and the door swung open. Not magically, but by Professor Slughorn himself who stood proudly just beyond the threshold in an ill-fitted plaid suit. “You rushed the triplet in the middle, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

Why did I agree to come here?

He took a step back and ushered the pair into the room with a grand sweeping of his arm, “Welcome, welcome!” he voice bellowed.

Art by @deathnotelu Instagram: amber_dnl

The pair walked awkwardly through the door together. They felt like they had walked out on to stage in the middle of a play; as if the spotlight had suddenly shown on them and they were standing there with no lines rehearsed. It felt as if everyone was starring at them.

They were.

Kill me.

“Drinks are just over there.” Professor Slughorn broke the silence as he pointed towards an elaborately dressed buffet table on the opposite side of the room. It was adorned with several large bowls of varying drinks.

“Thanks” Luna gave an awkward smile and headed towards the drinks. Severus followed close behind.

The novelty of the new party guests wore off quickly and soon the room was back to murmur of voices, fake laughter, and clinking glasses.

“What do you want to drink?” Severus asked as he grabbed two ornate crystal goblets.

“Fizzleberry, please.” Luna responded.

Severus poured himself the same, although he had never actually tried it before. It took him longer than he would admit to pour the drinks, as his hands were shaking. It filled him with self-hatred. Potioneering was a craft that required steady hands, and on any other day he was steady as a muggle surgeon. Not today though. Crowds and parties were certainly not his thing.

I hate everyone.

“Thanks.” Luna smiled as she took the drink from him.

Almost everyone.

Severus attempted to socialize at first, but he couldn’t help but feeling like a lost puppy following Luna around while she talked to the other guests. She would look to him to join in on the conversation from time to time, but remained silent. He was sure she was just trying to include him, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was just a disappointment.

She probably regrets telling Slughorn to invite me.

Eventually, not wishing to be a burden or to spoil the mood of the party, Severus had sat himself alone at a table in the corner of the room. He had been holding the same cup of fizzleberry soda since they arrived, but he hadn’t taken a single sip of it. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if his stomach could handle it, and he was absolutely not going to deal with the embarrassment of throwing up at a party. The other students already had enough ammunition to use against him.

When he finally took a sip of his drink he realized that it had long since gone flat. He wretched and his face tightened up in a painful looking grimace.

Ugh, flat and unbearably sweet.

If it were up to him, he would have slipped out and gone back to the dormitories soon after arriving. Of course he wouldn’t though, he had promised Regulus that he would look after Luna. Although, if he was being honest, he knew that she didn’t need looking after. After all, she had been the one to recently come to his defense.

“Severus?” Luna said his name in a tone that suggested it was not the first time she had tried to get his attention.

“Hm?” He barely got out as he snapped back to reality.

“Let’s go.” Luna said encouragingly as she nudged his chair with her leg.

Please.

“The party isn’t over.” Severus said, although inside he was dying to leave.

“I know, but Professor Slughorn cracked open a vintage wine that he said everyone could have some of as long as they didn’t tell. I’m sure no one will notice if we leave, and even if they do they’ll probably forget come morning. Let’s go. You look so uncomfortable.”

Oh thank the Gods.

“Alright then, if you’re sure.” Severus said tenatively.

“Now when you’ve made a name for yourself, don’t forget who it was who set you along your path, yes?” Professor Slughorn said as he lifted a glass of wine that was certainly not his first for the night high above his head.

Sure enough, not a soul noticed them leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

As soon as the door shut behind them, the loud chattering sounds of the party vanished completely. Clearly Professor Slughorn had placed a silencing charm on the door so as not to draw an unwanted attention to what really goes on in a Slug Club party.

Severus immediately started heading back towards the Slytherin dormitories, desperately wanting to put some distance between himself and that wretched party. When he only head one set of footsteps echoing in the hall he turned to check on Luna, “Coming?”

“Can we take a detour?” Luna asked, her hands nervously clasped behind her back like a child trying to act innocent to gets sweets from her parents.

“I don’t think that’s very wise. It’s late and I promised Regulus I’d get you home safely. He said he would hate to kill me, you remember?” Severus smiled.

“Just a quick one.” Luna pleaded as she leaned forwards on her toes just slightly.

Severus sighed, “Fine. A quick one.”

Luna beamed and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off with her in the opposite direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

It was much lighter outside the castle walls at night than it was inside of them. Thousands of twinkling stars up above lit up the night sky and illuminated the walkways of the grounds.

The sounds of owls hooting and katydids chirpping filled the night air. Sounds like branches snapping beneath creatures wandering in the Forbidden Forest carried so much father in the night; their rustling being able to be faintly heard from the banks of the Black Lake.

The pair was seated at the base of the ancient oak tree by the lake. Hundreds of fireflies danced in the sky, creating little orbs of light that waltzed with them on the surface of the water. Every now and again a firefly would wander over to them, its little green light illuminating their faces for a fleeting moment.

“Beautiful.” Severus whispered.

“Right?” Luna smiled, “Autumn is just beginning, so this is the last chance we’ll probably have to see them this year. I just wanted to see them one more time before we get into the nitty gritty of the school year. A bit of nature’s magick to get me through the year.”

She has no idea I didn’t mean the fireflies.

She leaned back against the base of the might oak, which Severus was already leaning against; their shoulders pushing against each other.

“It reminds me of when I was little. I loved watching them in the garden. When I was very young I would cry when they would go away for the year. Regulus actually caught me some in a jar once to keep as pets… Sirius smashed them and painted his face with their glowing inside. He thought it looked like war paint.” Luna laughed hollowly.

Asshole.

“I’m sorry.” Severus said solemnly.

“For as sweet as he can be to me, he also has a tendency to hurt things that I love. I don’t know if it’s on purpose or not.” Luna sighed.

“What else has he hurt?” Severus asked, his gaze still fixed on the fireflies over the lake. When he received silence as an answer, he turned to look at Luna. She sat in utter silence looking at him.

Severus swallowed, but his mouth was just as dry as his throat and offered no comfort from the nervousness that now muted him like a cotton ball in his mouth.

She can’t possibly mean…

Saying nothing, Luna slid her hand closer to Severus’s.

The pair both looked down as their hands dared to close the gap between one another. Their fingers anxiously playing chicken over who would touch the other one first.

Come on, Severus, be brave.

Finally Severus’s pointer finger gently brushed the top of her knuckle.

Their eyes met and Severus could see himself in the reflection of her eyes. And for once, he could really see himself. Not as how his father saw him. Not as how his tormentors saw him. Not even as how he saw himself… but as how she saw him. Brilliant. Caring. Strong.

Art by @okeydokeylackey https://okdl.carrd.co/

He leaned in towards her cautiously, expecting her to pull away at any moment. But she didn’t. Their lips grazed against one another, and Severus felt his heart stop. In a fraction of a second that felt like an eternity he waited for her to jerk away from him utterly repulsed. But she didn’t. To his utter surprise, she pressed her lips back into his. His hand wrapped gingerly around her cheek and pulled her in closer as he dared to go in for another kiss.

#Teen Snape #Snape getting the love and support he deserves #mrslunasnape #pro snape #severus snape #snapebang

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kingofthe-egirls · 10 months

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PROPOSAL: LUFFY x OC

fox tales

(cw: luffy proposes! sweet sweet luffy fluff. zolu mention :3)

(a/n: i am nothing if not self indulgent. enjoy :)

Luffy pulls out an emerald green, velvet box.

He kneels.

“Mine,” he says, softly. “Pirate queen.”

You nod, hungry, overwhelmed with emotion as you wrap your arms around his neck. You sink to the ground, cuddling him near you.

“Yours,” you whisper, “Pirate King.”

***

He has already said his vows to his first-mate and first love. His saturn rings encircle his fourth finger: all three emblazoned with one of Zoro’s swords. Zoro is wearing a band around his own ring finger: a glinting skull and crossbones ring made of gray hematite. You stare at the rose quartz-diamonds at the center of his silver band. It glitters on your finger like opal, ringed with diamonds and iridescent pearls. They shimmer in the light as you examine the ring.

The stone at the center is pink, shaped like a glittery skull and cross bones. It’s made of pearl.

“Thank you,” you whisper, dumbfounded. Exasperation flows through you at the overwhelming beauty, and you start to cry. Luffy thumbs at your cheek.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he comforts you, his own voice thick, “S’posed to be happy, right?”

You nod, sniffling. “‘M happy,” you shake your head, “It’s too good to be true.”

“No,” he snickers into your face, rubbing his nose against your jawline. “You’re too good to be true. I just got the ring that matched.”

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #fox tales #luffy x y/n #kitsune oc #zolu

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honey-milk-depresso · 1 year

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The Boy I Love (Ove Bell x Reader)

Ove Bell is my OC, this is for @call-me-aesthetic especially 💕 Hope you enjoy! ^^

TW: One cuss word. I think- (very mild cussing)

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love is a jokester.

“Ove…”

“What? I’m scared, s/o. Aren’t you gonna be my knight and shining armour and protect me?~” he playfully reacted as he placed his hand on his hand to look exasperated.

The two of you were in a haunted house as a Halloween date, and you knew jolly well that Ove wasn’t scared of it one bit. No, he just wanted to act scared to cling to your arm… actually no, just cling onto you.

“Are you done pretending?” You raised a brow, monotonously asking your boyfriend. He gasped, touching his chest offendedly. “When your love is in distress, fear, anguish and helpless without you? Oh, how cruel can you be, my snuggle bug?” Ove sighed as he sounded hurt, but that wide grin on his face says otherwise.

“Snuggle bug? Cringe.”

“S/oooooo,” he wrapped his arms firmer around your arm, chin resting on your head. “Protect meeeeeeee~”

“Oh my sevens…” you smiled at him, as he smiled at you back.

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love has bad taste in movies.

“What are we watching?” You asked your boyfriend while looking baffled at the television screen.

You would’ve expected horror, comedy or thriller from this man but…

“It’s an alien invasion movie.”

“Why is the alien invasion movie all stop motion and have un-sync lip sync?”

“It’s from the 1970s.”

You groaned. Oh my god. I mean sevens.

Your boyfriend decided to pick a movie so outdated and cheesy, the plot is almost so cliche with the main characters obviously using the power of friendship to save the day, characters that have the most nonsensical thinking and scripts.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty and I’m not gonna roast you for watching something so awful,” you laughed at the movie for how awful it is, that is somehow became a good film?

“I know. And I know you love the show, too.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love learns something new for me

“Ove?”

“Ah shit… this’s embarrassin’…” You faced Ove who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a poem out loud with a bunch of papers that had messily written verses scribbled with lead.

“I suck at words and I… I heard poetry was necessary for Valentine’s Day..? That and I had other things prepared but writing is a pain in the ass…”

You picked up one paper, reading it. “ ‘Your eyes are diamonds, your teeth are pearls, your hair is silk and your skin is glitter’? That is so cheesy~ I didn’t know you’re that type of guy, Ove,” you teased him, catching a rare sight of him blushing a glowing red on his cheeks.

“Well, sorry, I’m trying. It’s my first time writing something like this you know,” he huffed, pouting as he crossed his arms. “And I really do think so…”

You smiled, touched by his words and you kissed him on the cheek. “Well, I feel very loved, and it’s the feelings from you that matters to me.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love carefully thinks of meaning.

“What the heck…” You entered your room to see green glow-in-the-dark stars messily pasted across your room, with a bright moon and sun lamp illuminating the dark room with a golden glow.

Not that it was bad or anything, but why? You walked over to the drawer at the side of your bed to see a note. More specifically, a note from Ove.

“Did he do this while I was gone?” You asked yourself as you sat down and read the note with the help of your two new lamps.

You’re the stars, the moon and the sun of my world. I did. this so you’d remembered that.

-Ove Bell

PS: I’m getting better at poetry, am I right? Also all this costed me a fortune from Sam’s store so please say you like it I worked hard-

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head as your cheeks bloomed pink. Your boyfriend is such a cheesy little freak.

Sevens, do you love him so much.

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love tries his best to make me happy.

“Hey now…” Ove awkwardly wraps an arm around you as he soothingly hummed.

You know he’s not the best at comforting, and you could feel how stiff he was when he sat down beside you.

He bit his bottom lip, unsure of what to do next. His spider on his shoulder, Todd, tapped on his neck and he showed Todd to your face. “He’s not a scary spider… he wants to see you happy, too..!” Ove smiled, but you hung your head low and only nodded half-heartedly. He frowns, and Todd looked at the boy with a worried body expression of tapping his two front legs together. He placed Todd on his shoulder and scooted closer to you.

“Hey now, look. I know… I don’t know why you’re upset but I think you’re really cool. You’re brave to cry in front of others and… you’re not scared of Todd. Or at least you overcome your fear of Todd. Still I…”

He paused for a moment and pulled you closer to him if that was even possible. “I want you to be happy.” You looked at him, he smiled gently with an almost anxious expression, desperately trying to cover it.

He’s trying his best for you, you thought and you smiled meekly. “I’m sorry for burdening you.” He frowns once more. “Burdening me? I love you why would that burden me, ya sweet bug?” He smirks. “I’d be here for you any day.”

You giggled at his antics, smiling fully as he grins. “Thanks, Ove.”

“No need to thank me.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love loves to mess with my hair.

Ove took of his beanie and sat crossed-legged on the floor with a bunch of hairpins and clips, flowers he plucked from outside and from Heartslabyul a brush in hand as he smiled to himself.

You sat in front of him with your back facing him, sighing unamused.

“Don’t do anything funny like last time.”

“What? You know I love playing with your hair~” he coos, slowly brushing your hair.

It was soothing, honestly, and he began to clip some pins and put flowers onto your hair. You hummed to yourself, subconsciously humming to what your boyfriend hums to himself. From his fingers, he touched them and pulled delicate shimmering translucent strings like cobwebs and weaved them like a spider.

“And… done!” He took a hand mirror and gave it to you, letting you see the cobwebbed veil he made that complimented the clips and flowers on your hair.

“Wow…” “Wow indeed, s/o. You look pretty.”

You blushed. “I… tha-” “Pretty normal.”

“OVE-” “I’m joking, I’m joking!” He smiles genuinely. “You’re beautiful.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love loves me.

He sat beside you in the open field as the wind blew a gentle, cool breeze. Ove looked at you, eyes softening as he smiled a little wider. He looked back at the sky you were staring so mesmerisingly at, the sunset that shone over the horizon was a sight to behold indeed.

But not as much as you.

He looked down at his lap. “Fuck.”

“Ove, don’t curse!” You chided him. He chuckles to himself. “Sorry but I can’t help myself.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I just realised how stupid I am.”

“I mean you’re a little dumb, but not stupid. Dumb in not having movie taste.”

He gasped offendedly in a playful manner. “My taste is superior!” “Dream on!”

You both laughed. “Nah, but… I’m stupid to realise I never had guts to do something important.”

“Like?” You asked him, raising a brow.

“This.” The next moment he leaned in to your face, your eyes widening. It all felt like slow motion as he leaned closer and closer, finally pressing his lips on yours. He pulled a way a few moments later, smirking at the way your cheeks burned red.

“I love you,” you blinked momentarily, the words he spoke flowed like a waterfall out of his mouth, no hesitation and with full confidence.

His simple words left you overwhelmed, as you felt the corner of your eyes stung with hot tears.

The boy freaked out when a single tear rolled down your cheek, frantically waving his hand.“H-hey, did I said something wro-”

“Not at all,” you told him. “I… I love you, too.”

He stares at you, his gaze on you unwavering as he smiled softly. “Man… you’re really something, s/o…”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

Reblogs help! ^^

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #ove bell #ove bell x reader #twst oc x reader #twisted wonderland oc x reader #twst ove #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst oneshot #twst fluff #self insert #oc #oc x reader #okay bye-

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raccoonfallsharder · 2 months

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꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂ chapter three. rasque. [new 3/7] ❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 2/25 | wip | word count: pending.

a daring escape.

“Put your feet like this, pearl,” he grunts at her, showing her how to notch the soft soles of her humie feet into the metal rails framing each pane in the pyramid. “Lean against the glass — it won’t break. This frickin’ stuff is made to hold up on re-entry.” She blinks at him over her shoulder. “The Arete is a ship?” Smart girl. “Focus on your feet,” he orders instead, grimacing. He hovers his hand over the curve of her hip, and hopes that they both get lucky and neither of them get struck by lightning. To her credit, the girl gets halfway to the vertical strut he’s gonna need her to climb down before she wobbles. His hand rises to her flank immediately, pressing her against the glass. Without thinking, he strokes his hand down over the curve of her hip in a way he means to be comforting — as if he could possibly be of any comfort to her at all — but she doesn’t seem perturbed by the gesture. There’s a slight uptick in her heartbeat — a soft little drumbeat beneath the rain — but it evens out quickly. Unlike his, which is picking up speed with every new raindrop that lands on her stupid frickin’ dress. The pale silk of it is already silvering into translucence under the onslaught of the storm, and he realizes — with a stifled groan buried under the low thunder and the sound of the rain hammering the glass — that by the time the two of them get to the stolen runabout he has stowed at the shoreline, she’ll be as good as naked. Worse, really — all wrapped up like the cutest little piece of candy, pink and peach peeking through the transparent layers and clinging wet veils.

read chapter three. rasque. on ao3 :･꧂

WARNINGS: references to the last chapter’s violence. big regrets. sexual fantasies. cutting (to remove a tracking device). some aftercare.

rated with one heart mostly for rocket's filthy mind (rather than anything actually happening). aftercare will resume in the next chapter, which will probably be in about 1.5-2.5 weeks. i hope you joy my lovelies.

꧁･:☁︎⋆.masterlist, notes, & moodboard.⋆☁︎ :･꧂

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

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evita-shelby · 4 months

Text

I vaguely remember trying to put all my moodboards on a list but i can't find it , so imma just do it again

Not in order i am afraid

Peaky Blinders

Sophisticated (Grace, Tatiana, May, Diana and Gina)

Miss Shelby

Something in the Orange (Tommy x Lizzie)

Odette (Lizzie Stark/Shelby)

Odile (Grace Burgess/Shelby)

Victor (Jack Nelson hunger games au)

The Black Hand (Luca Changretta hunger games au)

The Peaky Blinder( tommy hunger games au)

Eva x Tommy

A Shelby Christmas

Prosperina

Pluto

Nothing left to say

Paloma Negra

The Pearl Anniversary

The Shelby Children

Charles Absalom Shelby

Diane Elizabeth Shelby

Luca Changretta x Eva

That Yacht Life

Incantatrice

Chiaroscuro (ft @call-sign-shark Heaven and Arthur)

Faith, love and family.

Jack Nelson x Eva

Christmas in Paradise

Magic

Birds of a Feather (ft. @call-sign-shark Heaven Lavey)

Soulmates

My OCs

The Nelsons of Beals Street

Sun to me (hunger games au)

Eva Smith

Mrs Rosenberg (Frida 'Florence' Solomons)

Like Fine Wine (WWII!Eva)

Apex Predator (Eva ft mean girls, Apex Predator and pink)

They did not know we were seeds (hunger games district 10 au)

Others OCs

Wonderland (Eva ft. Heaven Lavey)

Solomons and Shelby (Diane ft @raincoffeeandfandoms Allie Solomons)

Juliusz (@rysko Juliusz Ferenz)

Inception

Love's a State of Mind

The Fischer Affair

World on Fire

Kasia x Lois

Robina Chase

Tom Bennett x Diane Shelby

How sweet it is

Ewan Mitchell

Pretty Boy

Black Panther:Wakanda Forever

Of Gods and Witches

Eva x Namor

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #luca changretta x oc #jack nelson #jack nelson x oc #diane shelby #tom bennett x oc #peaky blinders moodboard #world on fire moodboard

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joron1a-stardustlor · 9 months

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i need help with a kirby x steven universe au

Steven- kirby

Garnet- ?

Amythyst-gryll @mint-termsandconditions

Pearl- meta knight?

Greg-Dedede?

Connie-bandana dee

Sadie- ?

Lars- ?

Lapis-magolor?

Peridot- marx?

Jasper- ?

Bismuth-?

Pink diamond/Rose-galacta knight

Blue diamond- (oc) nelldae knight

Yellow diamond- morpho knight

White diamond- void? Another oc of mine i have?

Spinel- Elfilis @chaos-squared

Uh feel free to reblog/comment with suggestions im all ears and my ask box is open for suggestions ^^

Feel free to reccomend for other side characters aswell (like the off colors)

I forgot spinel so i put her in

I prob cant thank people correctly but i can put ur user beside the character you suggested :]

#kirby #kirby gijinka #kirby au #Kirby x steven universe au #<-pls use this tag so i can see :]#Eh i'll introduce the two ocs later #“?” are ones i have no ideas for and i highly want suggestions of but feel free to change the very few ones i picked if it makes more sense

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emilykaldwen · 25 days

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Eight

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

AO3 Link

SPICY CHAPTER AHEAD (no seriously it's like 5k worth of smut in here)

CHAPTER EIGHT - SOMETHING IN YOUR TOUCH

Don’t tell me to leave, he silently begged. Let me adore you, let me touch you, let me taste and have you, let me know it’s alright. Aemond has a birthday, the girls gossip, and Aegon is a (sexy) creep. And we earn our explicit rating.

It was Aemond’s nameday and the royal gardens were more alive than they’d been in ages. Three of the terraces that spilled from the Queen’s ballroom were filled with courtiers, from young men and women newly arrived to King’s Landing, to the Queen’s ladies and children of the Small Council, to those who were slowly trickling in preceding Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Minstrels were playing beneath the shaded cover of the cloistered walkway, and there were tables laden with cakes and meats, even a marchpane facsimile of Vhagar that had surprised them all when the queen, beaming brighter than Abby had ever seen her, proudly revealed it.

“Happy nameday, my darling,” she’d told Aemond, slim hands on his upper arms, a fond kiss to his cheek. Even now, at seven and ten, he only blushed lightly at the affection of his mother rather than pull away with complaint. So rare was Queen Alicent’s softness that not even a crowd of peers could dissuade Aemond from pulling away for some sort of manly pride that he was too old for a kiss from his mother; he’d sprouted another few inches, now taller than Aegon, who was rather put out by it all.

In spite of the warmth from the midday sun, Abby could feel the promise of autumn on the breeze, a cool caress that tugged at the fire-kissed curls that hung loose down her back, held back by a pair of lapis and amethyst combs. Normally her hair would be worn pulled back in a knot at the crown of her head, but she was acutely aware of the mark below her right ear that she need not draw attention to.

She tilted her head back to feel the sun kiss her cheeks, ignoring the feeling of Aegon’s eyes on her back, of the shiver and prickle that came when one knew they were being watched.

The scent of lemon preceded the whisper of silk and Helaena’s amused voice against her ear. “You’re blushing,” the princess sing-songed, laughing softly as Abby huffed and lightly smacked her hand against her sister’s chest. It did little to deter her, and Helaena rested her chin on Abby’s bare shoulder, tugging a little at the skirt. “I like this dress. He does too.”

“I didn’t wear it for him.” The light silk organza was luxurious, shifting in colors from the softest pink and periwinkle into sage, baring her shoulders with the low neckline edged in embroidered blue flowers centered with pearls. It helped with the heat of the capital and she couldn’t deny that she felt lovely in it. “If he enjoys it, that is simply a bonus.” She bit her lip and chanced a glance over her shoulder.

Aegon stood beneath one of the cypress trees with a goblet held lazily in one ringed hand, his other arm braced against the trunk of the tree. His own eyes were on her, angling around Aemond who stood in his way, teeth pressed into his lower lip. The moment he realized she had caught him watching, he gave a slight start and Abby scrunched her face at him, teasing. His surprise eased into a satisfied smirk, the gold of his dragon stamped buttons on his black jerkin catching the light as did the rings on his fingers. She watched him tap two of them against the goblet he raised and after a shy moment, she gave him a smile and tapped her own fingers against her chin.

“Adorable,” Wylla teased from her other side, the roll of her eyes evident in her voice. Abby squeaked in surprise, the elder girl having seemingly appeared to seize the opportunity for teasing. Her cheeks flamed and she looked out towards the low hedge maze below on the next terrace.

“I didn’t wear it for him,” she emphasized, and it was Wylla’s turn to smirk as Helaena hummed her own disbelief. “You’re both ridiculous. Did you race across this whole garden just to say that to me?” Wylla raised her eyebrows in challenge. Abby squinted blue eyes at Helaena’s innocent look. “Are you both conspiring to tease me so?”

“Never,” Helaena said emphatically and Wylla was all innocence in her agreement.

“Of course I wouldn’t vault over a hedgerow at the opportunity to tease you. I’m conspiring to tease the foolish one.” She nodded her head in the direction of the brothers and Abby frowned.

“Foolish one? Which one?”

Wylla scoffed. “The one who cornered me in the hall a week ago asking - nay, demanding that I recount the tale of the Night’s King and the Corpse Queen so he could compare it to some moldy book he was brandishing like a madman.”

“Is he still going on about that?” Abby asked, catching Helaena’s own eye roll.

“I wish you’d warned me that he’s on some obsession about some kind of treatise on,” she pitched her voice lower, an attempt at modulating her voice to sound more like Aemond. “Northern Myths In Relation to the Founding of the Night’s Watch and King Beyond the Wall. Who does he think he is, taking my land and claiming to know more about it?”

“He thinks he’s Aemond Targaryen,” Helaena said dryly. “What more do you want?”

“An explanation on if the audacity comes with the dragon and that book to give him a good crack on his big head.”

Abby hummed. “The audacity absolutely comes with the dragon. Have you met Princess Helaena?”

The princess smiled serenely, her silver hair like spun gold beneath the sunlight and her lavender eyes shining with the kind of dreamy mystery they always held.

“Tis true.” Heleana sighed and pressed her hands against the low wall they were leaning against. “One does not need a cock to prove their might when they ride the oldest dragon. Sorry, second eldest dragon.” Even in her annoyance with her brother, there was amusement in her tone. “I can’t lord that over anyone anymore. Well, I suppose I can still lord it over Aegon, but then he comes back about Vhagar and then Aegon says that Sunfyre is the most beautiful dragon and Vhagar is a hoary old beast and then Aemond tells him to come say that to her face.”

The three of them fell into laughter then and Abby was grateful for the attention to be taken off of her dress and the way she was trying to hide the fact that she enjoyed Aegon gazing at her. It was good to have this. It was good to see Helaena freer than she’d been in some time. It was good to have Wylla by her side, a piece that Abby did not realize she’d been missing in her life. With the companionship that Wylla Karstark provided, it had struck her how isolated they’d been, this clutch of theirs. There'd once been a time when they’d played with more children than just their relatives. She recalled great games in the Kingswood carried out between all the children of the court, not just the Queen and Princess’ children, but those of the Small Council and others who littered the Red Keep and the capital.

That was before Princess Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone. That was before that awful night on Driftmark.

“How do you like our new Baratheon friends?” Abby asked, hoping to keep the light mood up.

The princess hummed and folded her hands in front of her. “Floris is very sweet. I think would much rather run around like a little fawn than act so demurely.” The fondness in Helaena’s voice was undeniable as she spoke of the little girl. At present, Floris was running in circles around the fountain with one of Lord Beesbury’s granddaughters, her laughter a bright, bell-like sound.

It was not often that the other children of the court got to spend time amidst the royal family. Abby had suggested the opportunity, both for the Baratheons to be introduced to the court, as well as the opportunity for her and Helaena to start vetting ladies for their households, and to perhaps find companions for Aemond that didn’t involve whatever competition he’d decided there was between him and the Fossoway boy.

“Well, someone must have realized we were teasing him,” Wylla’s hushed voice broke in. Abby glanced up to see Aemond making his way over. In that moment Abby realized how grown he had begun to look, no longer the awkward and gangly boy he had been. Apart from his newfound height, the baby fat had started to melt from his cheeks, leaving behind a more stern look, one with the potential to be frighteningly intense. It appeared that others had noticed as well, eyes following his movement as he approached.

“Oh no,” Helaena groaned. “I swear, his hearing is ridiculous.”

“He’s come to tell us more about his Night’s King treatise,” Abby warned with another giggle, bumping her shoulder against Helaena’s who huffed softly. “Perhaps you can counter with a lesson on the molting practices of that type of lizard for Asshai. The one with the ruff around its neck and the spitting.”

“Your Grace!” Wylla’s voice called out as she gathered her dove gray skirts in hand to intercept Aemond. “I neglected to tell you about the Selkies of the Bay of Seals.”

She felt Helaena’s tension beside her ease slightly, her nails scraping against the sandstone wall and gaze drifting towards the glimmer of the bay and the seagulls that drifted through the air. There was a thrum in the girl beside her, the kind of vibration that Abby could feel in the air, as if Helaena’s very being sang with a tension like a tuning fork.

“Should you wish to find Dreamfyre, I shall set another distraction,” Abby murmured softly, letting her pinky finger touch Helaena’s pinky where their hands rested beside one another. Helaena returned the gesture with a shake of her head.

“I’m not some fragile thing,” she whispered, and the drifting quality to her voice made it unclear if Helaena spoke to her or to herself. “I will not give him the satisfaction, nor will I cause Mother concern.”

“You are not some fragile thing. You ride the second oldest dragon in the world.” Abby smiled and bumped her shoulder into Helaena’s and the princess huffed, returning the gesture. “He doesn’t get to demand something you do not wish -”

“Hush.” The hiss of the word had Abby snapping her mouth closed, head ducking down with instinctive apology. It was a tender subject, painful as a bruise for Helaena, and one that seemed to worsen with each passing of the moon. Helaena would not speak of it, but Abby was no fool to see that she did not hold the same desire that her brother did.

Sometimes, when she and Aemond sat together in the library, her feet resting on his boots while they made themselves at home in the comfortable nook below one of the stained glass windows, Abby thought she saw the same hesitance within him. She wished he’d speak his mind to her, as he had on many subjects, just as Helaena would speak hers. But this? This was a subject that neither of them had any desire to speak of and she could not figure out if they felt too beholden to the performance, or if there was something else she didn’t understand.

Floris Baratheon’s loud shrieks of laughter drew Abby’s gaze up from their hands to smile softly down at the way the girl found such joy in her new playmates.

“If you tell your mother that you do not wish for it, she will not force you, just as she did not force you and Aegon to wed. We both know if she had her heart set on you and Aegon marrying, she wouldn’t have broken the betrothal so quickly when Aemond was making his claims.” Even though she had not betrothed Aemond and Helaena, as Aemond had so fervently demanded. It had not escaped her that the queen and Lord Hand had grown increasingly anxious once Princess Rhaenyra had given birth to her fourth son, Prince Daemon’s son, and the past four years had been increasingly stressful with not knowing what would happen next. Aegon was nearing twenty, he should have been married already, if not to Helaena, then to another daughter of a great house. Helaena could have been sent away to secure someplace like the North and Cregan Stark, who had just taken his place as Warden.

Yet here they were, her and Aegon, hand in hand, counting the weeks until their wedding, and no news yet of Helaena’s potential betrothals and only a few lords out there of an age with her worthy of the hand of a princess of the realm. It was not uncommon for maids to marry young. Queen Alicent herself had been five and ten when she’d wedded the king, the man old enough to be her father. Abby’s own stomach curdled at the idea of Larys marrying her to an old lord looking for his third wife in a young and untouched maiden.

“Rivers drenched in flame,” Helaena murmured, fingernails biting into the back of Abby’s hand and the touch of pain pulled a gasp from her. “Sorry.” Helaena snatched her own hand back quickly and blinked. “I told grandfather that I’d die if he married me to Aegon. Aemond shouldn’t get all the credit for it.”

Abby was silent, watching Helaena from the corner of her eye as the princess scraped her fingertips along the sandstone. Her mind, however, whirled with the revelation that Helaena had never even hinted at before, and Abby briefly glanced over her shoulder to the gathered party.

Aemond had become suitably distracted, peppering Wylla with questions about selkies, and further beyond, there was Warren Fossoway gathered with some of the other young men around Aegon, whose lilac eyes had focused on the telling of something or another that had the boys falling into raucous laughter. Ladies mingled, from younger than her and Helaena to the women who served the queen and wives who had accompanied their husbands to the capital. Queen Alicent herself was below, on the lower terrace where Floris and Lord Beesbury’s granddaughter were playing about the fountain still, their laughter like delighted garden sprites. Then her eyes were drawn to the group near the arched entrance to the godswood.

The Lady Cassandra, eldest of the Four Storms, as the Baratheon daughters had come to be known, was to put it simply, beautiful. She was only a scant few months older than Helaena, older than expected for the eldest daughter of a Lord Paramount to remain unbetrothed, let alone unwed. Abby recalled the sour look on Lady Myrielle Penrose’s face at the news of the Baratheon arrival - Cassandra had been set to marry her brother before Bennard Penrose was caught with Lord Hayford’s daughter at a tournament in the Stormlands. Now, here the heir of Storm’s End stood, with her hair as black as raven wings, a storm of twisted curls and waves half pulled up in a thickly braided net of gold and pearl. Her features were sharp, giving her a cold sort of beauty that was both ensnaring and intimidating, as if she were Argella Durrandon reborn. She appeared older and more worldly than Abby had expected with her gown of gold satin, the bodice embroidered with black lace and appliques that evoked antlers and gave the illusion of armor.

“Do you think she can push her breasts up any higher out of that gown?” Helaena asked. Abby choked on her swallow of cider, only just managing to cough it back up into her goblet before she sputtered everywhere. She did her best to ignore the eyes on her while dabbing at her mouth with her handkerchief, and resolutely ignored the way Aegon was watching her again. His eyes burned into her, stoking something aching low in her gut.

“I think you should worry less about her bosom and how she shows it off, and more about looking for others who might work as ladies for you.” Abby coughed once more into her handkerchief and cleared her throat. Helaena clucked her tongue.

“Is that because you’re jealous of her ample bosom?” Helaena teased, and Abby prickled with indignation, huffing and running her fingers over the ivy design along the goblet in her hand.

“No, I’m not jealous of her ample bosom. I do not want you to be lonely when I’m gone, Helaena,” Abby defended herself, only half a lie, but there was still truth in the statement. She wanted to reach for Helaena’s hand, but just because Helaena had been physically affectionate did not mean she welcomed it from the outside. “We will make sure your ladies will care for you properly, but you have to give them a chance.”

“You don’t have to baby me, you know,” the princess said, her large lavender eyes narrowed in a vague sense of annoyance. “I’m not helpless.”

A soft exhale. “I don’t think you are, and I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to… and I simply want to make sure that-.” That what? Abby could not lie to herself that she liked to be needed, that she needed to be needed, and she loved Helaena. She was protective of Helaena, and the idea of her being surrounded by people that didn’t understand her, that didn’t know what days she needed loose fitting dresses and quiet, or to wake up in the middle of the night, whispering and giggling with each other when dreams became too much for them both.

“Abby,” Helaena interrupted. “You’re starting to sound like Mother.”

She flushed. Alicent Hightower was a gracious and clement queen. She cared for the small folk, she kept the kingdom running as the king fell deeper into his illness. She took responsibility for her after the death of her father when she didn’t have to. Alicent was the closest thing she had to a mother anymore. But she was not kind. She was not soft, nor gentle. She fretted and raged, and fear had begun turning her into a taloned woman liable to strike rather than comfort some days. “I take great pride in being your lady. I would prefer to be assured that things continue as normal, or even better.” Helaena made a little huffing sound before softly laughing and Abby shook her head. “The Seven forbid you end up with a host of Lady Penroses.”

“You are right,” Helaena agreed, twisting her fingers together and plucking at the soft sapphire silk of her sleeves. The neckline of the simple gown was heart shaped, the appliques on the bodice mimicking flame. An appropriate call of the Hightower and blood of the dragon that made up the princess. “I do not like change. I do not want to have to get used to it all.”

Abby tentatively rested her hand on the taller girl’s shoulder, her fingertips only just touching the edge of Helaena’s sleeve. “You are an afternoon’s ride away, whenever you desire to escape the confines of your tower. I imagine there are quite a few fascinating specimens at Harrenhal for you to collect.”

Helaena made a thoughtful face, nodding. “This is true. And I can’t imagine anyone would beg to come along for such an adventure. Their loss, always.”

“Floris might.” Now the pair of girls were balancing on the edge of the fountain, carefully reaching their hands out to put beneath the spray of water. “Unless, of course, you suddenly decide that you would rather Lady Cassandra stay.”

It had been two days since the arrival of the Baratheon girls, and while Helaena and Abby both had grown fond of little Floris, Cassandra was a whole other story entirely. The pair turned their gazes towards the other end of the terrace where Cassandra still remained. Helaena shook her head and looped her arm through Abby’s, tugging her along.

“Come, let us go speak with the heavy breasted storm so you can decide if you’re taking her with you, or if we'll send her back to Storm’s End before she suffocates us all.”

Cassandra continued to hold court across the garden and Abby’s eyes darted around for Wylla, for a moment feeling the ache of insecurity at not having the elder girl around. She was still with Aemond, brow furrowed and the pair of them gesturing wildly at whatever disagreement about the selkies had developed into. Abby stifled a laugh.

“Aemond might end up tossed over the wall should he keep that up,” she murmured to Helaena.

“Good, perhaps that would knock some sense into him.” Abby glanced from Aemond’s arrow-straight form to Helaena curiously. Helaena’s silver hair shone gold beneath the sunlight, and her large eyes drifted to remain fixed on the group of women they approached.

“Your Grace,” came Lady Cassandra’s husky voice, unexpected in its roughness and yet perfect for the image she presented. It gave her an enviable air of mystery, of womanly secret that Abby was acutely aware she lacked. The others around her quickly followed suit with demure murmurs and all dropped into smooth, elegant curtsies. It was a picture of perfection in the gentle swish of fabric. Cassandra’s large dark eyes moved over to her, a dark brow arching in curiosity. “I apologize, but I don’t believe we’ve yet met.”

A slight shake of her head, Abby inclined her head in greeting, unsure if she needed to curtsy to the daughter of a lord paramount now. “We haven’t, although I did have the pleasure of meeting your sweet sister, Floris. I am Lady Abrogail, of Harrenhal. Companion to her Grace, the Princess. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Cassandra, and I hope for us to become friends.”

Cassandra’s smile was wide and broad, all straight, pearly teeth and sharp cuspids. “I’m sure we will, Lady Abrogail. Harrenhal, you say?” A soft chuckle and a curious cock of her head. “That great, haunted place.”

Ugly place was implied beneath the husky tone. It was one that she had heard enough over the years to recognize immediately and though it continued to sting, she would not let it shake her. “Yes, my elder brother is the current Lord, and I’m quite looking forward to seeing my family upon our return there. The lands are beautiful, and the cherry and plum orchards are renowned for their autumn meads.” She laughed, her eyes drifting across the rest of the young women in the group. “Lady Elinor, is it?” she asked the slight woman to Cassandra’s right, hovering and small. Her mouse brown hair looked as soft as fur, curled delicately around her narrow face. Abby smiled. “I hear that Bronzegate also has some of the best strawberries outside of the Reach. I’ve always wanted to attend one of your harvest festivals. I adore strawberries.”

Lady Elinor’s shy look relaxed and she returned her smile with a beaming one of her own, stepping forward into the circle of ladies. Abby kept her eyes affixed upon her, although she noticed the sharp glint in Lady’s Cassandra’s deep gaze. “Aye, my Lady. If you enjoy strawberries, you should try our strawberry wines. They’re not as heavy as the barrels from the Arbor, if I do say so myself.” The pride in Lady Elinor’s voice eased Abby’s nerves and she relaxed. She would not let the beautiful woman intimidate her, especially if Lady Cassandra was going to be the one to accompany her to Harrenhal.

“We will have to send for some, then, for the Prince’s nameday,” she said, glancing briefly over her shoulder in Aegon’s direction and the bickering between Aemond and poor Wylla who was in fact, looking to hold her own. Let this woman see that while she was perhaps the eye of the storm in her own home, she would not let her push her around, nor any of her ladies, and sweet Floris. All bouncing breasts, and hateful thoughts. What an ugly combination. She would have to tell Helaena later.

“I hear the Prince’s nameday feast will be one for the books,” Lady Cassandra cut in, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “Hunt and a tournament? And the feasts should be grand. I do love a good feast. Do you enjoy dancing, your Grace?”

Helaena did not meet Cassandra’s pointed look, but she rarely met anyone’s eyes head on. “No.”

Abby dug her thumbnail into her palm to keep from laughing. The pair of the Queen’s ladies exchanged glances, for the truth was quite the opposite.

“Well, I’m sure there will still be fun and revelry for all,” Cassandra’s smile was stuck in place and she cleared her throat somewhat. It was clear that she would not do to become a companion to Helaena, and Abby brushed her arm against her dear sister’s. “You know, I heard a rumor that the king plans to declare Prince Aegon his heir, that’s why it’s such a celebration.”

There were soft gasps amongst the ladies. “Oh, do you think so?” Lady Elinor whispered, a hand pressed to her cheek. Cassandra tutted, waving over a servant to refill her goblet with arbor gold.

“He’s unmarried, and the celebration is larger than any thrown since Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding. Isn’t that right, Your Grace?” The lady’s dark eyes shot over to Helaena with wide eyed eagerness and a coy smile slashed across her lovely face. Abby felt a prickle of heat along her throat.

Helaena tilted her head, gazing idly over the rest of the party. “I suppose. Mother finds frivolous celebration unseemly when the treasury could be used to rebuild the poor houses that had fallen into disuse.”

“And with the king’s ill health, it doesn’t seem appropriate to throw such festivities,” Abby added encouragingly, her shoulder brushing against Helaena’s.

“The king’s ill health?” Lady Cassandra said, as if she didn’t know after spending a week in the Red Keep that the king was rarely seen. “Well, all the more reason then to finally declare Prince Aegon heir.” Her gaze drifted before she laughed. “But do not look now, my friends, for the Prince in question has not stopped looking this way.”

Something unpleasant churned in Abby’s stomach and she felt a flush heat along the back of her neck and ears. The Queen’s ladies exchanged another glance before drifting their gazes to Abby, and she was not sure if they meant them as pity or uncertainty as to what they should say. It was obvious what Cassandra had meant - that Aegon was staring at her, of course.

“Pay him no mind,” Abby said airly, goblet tight in her delicate hand. “We don’t. It’s best to not encourage him.” Cassandra laughed louder, and Abby saw the demonstration for what it was. The tilt of her head showing off the fine line of her neck, and the jewels that decorated her. That ridiculous bosom with all the secrets inside making them shake with her laughter.

Was Aegon staring at Cassandra now? She was beautiful, and so polished, even with her callous nature hidden beneath the lady’s mask. Aegon didn’t care about personality, that much Abby knew. He liked pretty things. Pretty mouths and smiles and attention. One didn’t need a personality when they were-

“I’m sorry, I don’t seem to understand what’s so funny. Did I miss the joke?” Helaena’s voice interrupted the path of Abby’s swirling thoughts and the princess said it with such a straight face that Abby knew that it was true. Crowds could be difficult for her some days, and the backhanded nature of ladies always put her on edge, with doublespeak being at least thrice as difficult to maneuver as simple polite evasion and conversation.

Was Aegon staring at the raven haired beauty or was he still looking at her? She wanted to turn her head to look, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her doubt or jealousy. Not that Abby was jealous. She wasn’t. This was simply the insecurity of her new dress, and what her station was now, and where she stood and… and…

Abby brushed her hair away from her neck, where her curls had covered the little bruise that Aegon’s mouth left, her fingers trailing over the spot. Cassandra’s eyes caught the motion, and Abby gave a slight smile. “It will be refreshing to have someone so joyful with us at court. The days can get quite boring and monotonous.”

Cassandra hummed. “Truly? You seem like the kind of lady that has no problem occupying her time.” Her hand dropped awkwardly from her neck and Abby felt the heat creep along her throat and up her cheeks. The other girl smiled, the flash of those sharp cuspids again. “You know the sort.”

The servants' passage, one Aegon had taken to perusing on nights when sleep eluded him, snaked through nearly every inch of the castle. He had his half filled goblet in hand, the warmth of the plum cider that Abby favored coursing through his veins. His dagger was in his boot, his shirt loose and light along his skin and breeches half unlaced.

His footsteps were quiet, the murmurs from the rooms behind a soft lull. He stopped at the crosspath to pet Theraxis, the cat stalking for prey in these night hours before returning to his mistress’ room.

“You stay out. Don’t want to be interrupted,” he told him softly. The great furry thing rubbed against his calf before vanishing into the darkness, as if it took his words to heart.

It was the whimper Aegon heard first and it wrenched an agonized sigh from him as he came upon his intended goal. He leaned forward against the wall, eyes to the little peep holes that Maegor had commissioned throughout the Red Keep, and he threw back the remains of his drink before setting it on the little ledge where the one from the day before sat.

Abby was alone in her room, tucked there in her bed, safe and sound. The fire was a low glow, and it turned her creamy skin warm and golden. Her hair was like dragonfire, bloody red and gold against her white sheets. The back of her hand was pressed against her mouth and her knees were drawn up. The softness of her nightgown was bunched along the tops of her thighs - sweet things, spread as they were.

Another moan escaped her, and he bit his lip as he palmed his quickly hardening cock. Aegon had dreamt of her before. He’d pictured her heart shaped mouth rounded out in cries of pleasure, the sound of his name tumbling out of her with her frantic gasping, twisting memory to suit his fantasies of his Maiden. In spite of what he lamented over wine and whores to his brothers, about his fears to touch her, his fears to corrupt her, his self-control was slipping with each smile and each flirtation she sent his way.

He had no way to see the sweetness between those thighs, not from this angle. The ugly thought of someone spying on her tore at his gut, and it was the only reason he was relieved that he could not see. But fuck him, he could hear the wet slick. Maybe it was his imagination; it probably was, but it didn’t matter as he watched her dainty little hand palm down the curve of her belly and vanish between her spread legs.

His cock bobbed painfully as he fisted it, precum dripping over his knuckles while he stroked.

What are you wishing I’d do to you? He wondered with the confidence that came from knowing it was his touch she surely must be fantasizing about. He never missed her casual affection, and the teasing she’d done, stepping right to him in the market fair the previous day. It was him that she desired. And that was after all the adorable kisses she initiated; the first time she’d dragged him behind the tapestry outside of his mother’s room and tried to suppress the giggles that bubbled out of her, the way she cupped his face and pressed the sweetest, clumsiest, most eager of kisses across his face and his mouth.

Yet, she’d thought him disinterested. Even in his lamentations that she deserved better, someone wholly not him, the very thought that she could be taken from him was not something he could bear. Not something he could stand. But, gods, her squared shoulders and her firm speech about how she wouldn’t put up with his attitude, the way her blue eyes brightened like the afternoon sky, had gotten his blood running. So rare was it that Abrogail Strong was ever so firm and he desired to see more of it, desperate to draw it out of her.

Would she be that way writhing beneath him, demanding to ride him the way they rode Sunfyre? Or would she be desperate and wanting, begging and mewling as he pressed those damnable, adorable grasping hands into the sheets while she squirmed.

It was obscene, this tableau, soft, safe and innocent in her bed. It should be the most sacred and tender of images. Yet the sight before him, her thighs spread and trembling, her head tossing restlessly against the pillow, was just as sacred, just as tender, as her usual air of innocence. Abby’s hips rolled up against her stuttering touch. Aegon squeezed the base of his cock, trying to hold off his peak so he could enjoy this as long as possible. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to see if her brow furrowed how it did when she was reading. He wanted to see if her mouth rounded in surprise as it did when they flew together.

As if his precious Maiden had heard him, she turned towards him… and then kept turning until she was on her knees, pert ass in the air and her face pressed into her pillow.

Seven hells, he was going to explode. He watched Abby shove her nightgown into her mouth to muffle those desperate sounds that were growing louder. The nightgown had fallen down from the angle, the round of her ass shoved into the air, rocking desperately against her hand. The firelight caught at the tears on her soft cheeks and he licked his lips, swearing he could taste the salt of them. He couldn’t see the delectable apple shapes of her breasts, the only thing left hidden by the bunched up fabric caught around her arms.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder than he would have liked, but it didn’t appear that she’d heard. She continued to whimper and grind against her hand. As his seed slipped slick over his hand, dripping to the stone floor - and there was a strange feeling of waste at the way it splattered across the stones - he realized that she wasn’t able to come from her own inexperienced touch.

Oh, his poor little rabbit.

He watched her writhe in the low firelight, fitful and sobbing in her bed as she stroked frantically at herself. Aegon’s eyes slid to the left, where the crack of the passage door was just visible.

He really shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t.

He tucked himself back into his breeches and ran his hand along the crack before he located the latch. The stone moved easily, silently, and the sounds within the room suddenly cleared as he stood in the doorway, watching her barely half a room away. From this vantage, he could see the shadow between her pretty thighs, and even if he just came, his cock was twitching once more.

Aegon was relieved that his footsteps made no sound as he approached the bed, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to groan when he saw the slickness of her cunt and the shimmer of arousal running down her thighs. His mouth was watering, and he could feel himself drool at the decadence laid out there, belonging to him. Aegon finally got his legs to move, the firelight catching the cum that still streaked along the back of his hand, but he didn’t care. The bed dipped as he set a knee on the edge and he watched her large eyes shoot open, the nightgown slipping from her mouth.

“Aeg?” she choked out while he ran his fingers soothingly from the base of her spine. He felt her shudder and wriggle in her surprise, and it truly hadn’t occurred to Aegon that this might have gone far worse, that she might have shouted and screamed at the intrusion, that the guards might have found him here, or worse, his mother. He was too focused on the heat of her body against his with only his linen shirt separating them. Aegon marveled at the little freckles and moles that dotted along her back like droplets of ink against her flushed skin. On his knees beside her, Aegon draped himself over her so his arms bracketed her trembling body on the cusp of her peak.

“Shhhh, I’ve got you,” he promised. Aegon dipped his head down and was able to kiss the corner of her trembling mouth and moved to trace his lips and tongue over her cheek to capture at the salty lines of her frustrated tears. His right hand stroked along her arm and he groaned low against her soft skin when he felt the slippery wetness along the back of her wrist. “I’ve got you.”

Abby gasped and trembled and whatever protest she might have had gave way to a low whine at the feel of his touch. Aegon soothed her, kissing her cheek, the corner of her eye, nuzzling his nose into the softness of her hair. The scent of her bergamot oil clung to the damp curls at her temples and twisted a needy sort of pull low in his gut. He was desperate to dive his fingers the last few inches to join hers into the soaked treasure of her cunt, but instead he continued to stroke his fingers up and down her arm. The awareness that her breasts were free and ripe and waiting for him pulled a low groan that he unsuccessfully tried to muffle into her curls. “Come here, hunītsos,” he crooned, and pressed his palm against her quivering belly to hold her against him. Slowly, Aegon rolled them to the left, so he was on his side, her head resting on his arm and cradled in the curve of his body.

Aegon took the moment to meet her gaze fully and admire the way she looked in the firelight. Her eyes were wide and the ocean blue of them was a vivid rim around the black pupil that reflected the light. Her dark lashes fluttered and her mouth was swollen red and bitten near bloody from how she’d tried to keep her sounds in. He could see the scarlet smudged on the bit of her nightgown that she’d shoved into her mouth. Cradled as she was against him, Aegon drew the arm that supported her head around to slip beneath the edge of her rucked up nightgown and graze his fingers along the soft warmth of her breast, just there on the underside, and a slow smirk cut across his face at the way she jerked against him. Aegon glanced down and saw her pretty little toes curl into the bed.

“Good girl, ñuha hunītsos. Whatever is the matter?” He asked, his voice low, crooning softly to her like the skittish little rabbit he had named her. Abby whined and her feet pressed against his shins, tangling their legs, and the smile across his face grew. “Use your words,” he murmured against her temple. “Tell me what it is that has you so distraught?” His voice was low and soft, slow and soothing, and he relished in the way his words made her squirm against him. He felt a stirring in himself and instinctively his hips pressed against the bare curve of her ass, his palm hot and fingers spread across her soft belly. Aegon pressed her closer and his own eyes went half lidded as Abby’s fluttered.

“Please,” she whispered in a breathless tremble. Her pink tongue darted out to lick along her bitten mouth and he leaned down to brush his own against hers. He couldn’t help himself. There was no hesitation to slide his tongue along hers the moment their mouths met. The way her own was languid and needy all at once, the way he swallowed her exhales and she his. She tasted of plum cider and berry tarts from supper, the merest hint of copper from the blood on her ripe lips. “Please,” she said when they broke apart, and the hand that was not still between her thighs came up to cup his cheek.

Aegon did not flinch at the contact. No, there was never a reason to flinch at her hands touching his face. Instead, he nuzzled into the cool touch of her palm and nosed at the curve of it, desiring to taste her fingers, to nibble and drag his teeth along her wrist where her heartbeat lay.

“Tell me what you wish for, Abrogail,” he told her, his eyes fixed on hers, the gentle cadence of her full name on his tongue as familiar to him as his own. The logs in the fire popped and he watched her throat bob as she swallowed. Don’t tell me to leave, he silently begged. Let me adore you, let me touch you, let me taste and have you, let me know it’s alright.

“Please.” A third time. Songs said wishes needed to be said three times. “Let me be the only one you touch this way. Aegon? If you want to have me, let it only be me.”

I’ve never asked for anything from you, Aegon.

Aegon’s heart thudded as loud as a war drum, so loud he swore that it was echoing in the room. His eyes searched her face and she was guileless, as always, soft and pliant against him and he could see the way her own heavy lidded gaze searched his. A soft exhale escaped him when she pressed against him of her own volition this time, the fabric of his breeches all that separated his hardening cock from the curve of her ass.

I loved a maid as fair as autumn, with sunset in her hair. His Maiden, shivering from arousal, for a peak not yet reached, begging for him and begging to be his only. His Abby never asked for anything, and yet she asked for this. This one thing that people like them should never expect, never want.

“Should I be faithful to you,” he murmured with his mouth pressed against the soft pad of flesh at the base of her thumb, “my darling hunītsos, I can have you however I desire?” He had a thousand fantasies of how he’d take her. In her bed, in his, on the back of Sunfyre, in the solar, in the stables, the stairwell… and yet this moment gave birth to a thousand more and he was breathless with it.

His sharp teeth nipped at her palm and Abby jerked, the softest and most surprised giggle escaping her. Aegon couldn’t help but smile at the innocently playful sound and he pressed a kiss to her lifeline.

“Yes, you may,” she whispered. “Mo realta geal.” Aegon blinked in surprise at the foreign words, and it took him longer than he’d admit to realize she’d spoken the Riverlands tongue he hadn’t heard from her in years. Abby’s voice was such a blend of the lilt of her home and the accent of the Keep that he’d long stopped registering it, but the words that flowed from her, musical and light, brought it rushing back.

“What does that mean?” he asked, and she giggled softly, teeth scraping against her lower lip. “You’re not going to tell me?” Abby shook her head, a soft sound in the negative, and squealed when he snapped his teeth against her hand with a low growl. Aegon watched in fascination as the bite and growl had Abby’s answering squeals taper off into strangled moans, and he felt her body shudder and press tightly back, wriggling and shivering. The tugging low in his gut went straight to his cock and his fingers pressed against her belly to hold her in place while he rubbed himself against her backside.

Abby shivered and he felt her toes curl again against his calves. “A-aeg… please.” A strangled whimper, her eyes fluttering and face flushing a deeper shade of red that matched her hair.

“Please?” he asked, his fingers resuming the lazy touch along the petal soft underside of her breast, and his other hand stroked down her stomach to the soft skin above the thatch of red curls. Louder, Abby cried, and he leaned down to capture it before it could get too away from her. Her sounds belonged to him and him alone, and he wanted to taste them and see if they were as sweet as her penchant for all sweet things. “Touch you here?” He wasn’t really asking at all. Aegon stroked the back of his fingertips over her damp curls where her own fingers rested and shifted his mouth to drag his tongue along the bead of sweat coursing down her throat and took a taste of her pulse.

Her answering moan was all that he needed to finally join her fingers. He relished the way her body went taut and her back bowed, how violently she shook with the first experimental stroke of his middle finger skating feather soft over that bundle of nerves she’d been struggling with. His calloused fingers squeezed her breast soft in his palm, thumb swiping over the pebbled peak. Aegon swore he could see the way her blush bloomed like spring across her belly when he looked down to their hands, begging for him to drag his tongue across the clenching curve and the beads of sweat that gathered.

Aegon’s middle finger caressed further down, gliding through her slick folds and over her fluttering entrance to find a soft ridge of skin. Her maidenhead was still intact. The sound that escaped him was something he’d never felt before; the growl he made felt like it belonged to Sunfyre more than he.

His. That fragile bit of skin, that most intimate part of her that belonged to him. He imagined the little streak of crimson smeared on his cock while she writhed beneath and he throbbed painfully in anticipation.

Not tonight. He wanted to take care of her tonight. For now, he focused on his touch. The sound was just as wet and obscene as he’d imagined, the touch of her cunt wet and soft. “Are you going to help me, hunītsos? Tell me what you like.”

Abby whimpered and her hips rolled into his hand through clear instinct and she turned her face into his cheek. He hushed her softly, but not truly meaning it, for he wanted to hear every sound that escaped her so he could learn how to pluck her properly. “Or do you not know what you like, hm?” He kissed her nose and the curve of her cupid’s bow with soft, innocent pecks. “Is that why I didn’t see you peak?”

“I can’t… it’s too much,” she choked out, and her slick fingers gripped the wrist of his exploring hand. He could feel how the skin had wrinkled from how long she’d been working herself. He crooned wordlessly to her and licked along her quivering mouth, twisting his own hand to take hers and twine their fingers together, the back of her hand pressed into his palm.

Poor little thing. She could not have much of an idea of what she was doing if she had not been able to make herself come.There was the warm swell of pride in his chest that she’d never know pleasure that wasn’t by his hands and his mouth, and eventually his cock. That he’d get to do this for her, to treasure her this way, to make her feel the way no one else could ever hope.

Aegon hummed against her mouth briefly before lifting his head and taking a look at the way she was laid out before him. Her thin nightgown was gathered up beneath her arms and useless in covering any part of her and his own heated skin felt like too much. He still had his boots, and the weight of the dagger inside was still there.

Regretfully, Aegon pulled his hand away and the frantic whine that escaped her made him grin and nip at her nose.

“Come back,” she pouted, so very unlike her, and reached for him. The possessive feeling inside of his chest, that tender place where Sunfyre curled inside of him, flared hot and warm at her need for him - him and no one else.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, stroking his wet finger along her lip before he pulled away further so he could sit up. Her head lay on the mattress, the golden red halo of hair that escaped her braid wild around her face and she gazed up at him. Abby was a vision. He could see her shaking from how strong her arousal was, the spray of goosebumps along her skin, how achingly taut her pretty pink nipples were. Her hands reached for his shirt and he grinned, lifting his arms to reach back and pull his shirt over his head and tossed it to some other place that didn’t matter.

Immediately, her hands pressed against his belly. He’d regained some of his muscle since Cole had been putting him through his paces, and the lack of inordinate amounts of wine had ebbed away some of his softness. He groaned low at the feel of her slick fingers leaving streaks over his stomach and watched, mesmerized, as her hand moved down to tentatively stroke over the thick erection barely contained by his half laced breeches.

Aegon sucked in a long breath and reached out to stroke her hair back from her face while she touched him, his eyes trying to shut. But he kept his gaze focused on her face. Trembling, yes. Inexperienced, definitely. But instead of demure and fragile, hiding herself from him, his Maiden had propped herself up on an elbow and her soft face scrunched up in unrestrained curiosity. Pearly teeth bit at her lower lip and her eyes rolled up to meet his.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. In answer, his preening Abby leaned forward to press a kiss against his stomach. Aegon thought the Stranger would take him there. Thoughts of gently encouraging her to take him out and wrap her delicate fingers around him flooded his mind. How he’d tenderly guide her on how to please him, how to take him so he could rest his cock on the soft pillow of her tongue, how he’d watch her eyes as he disappeared inside her succulent mouth.

Fuck, he thought. I’ll come right now. Aegon felt like a new boy again, peaking in his breeches at the sight of a pair of tits and fluttering eyes.

The heated thrum of his blood had him thinking of taking the dagger from his boot to slice away her useless nightgown and he was going through the last threads of his restraint not to. She could keep that last beacon of her modesty, even when she was bare and open to him. Instead, Aegon moved to remove his boots and dropped them to the floor, the dagger finding a place on the side table. He nudged her aside so he could push her pillows up and then took his place reclining back against the headboard.

“Come here, ñuha hunītsos,” he commanded her. The gown fell back down when she moved over to him and uncertainty had pushed away the curiosity that lightened her features just a moment before. Her nerves were coming up and Aegon reached for her, grazing his fingers along her arms. “Only you, Abs, I promise.” Only her. He’d only touch her this way. She eased into his open arms. She was so pliable even while she trembled, exactly like a little rabbit, and it made him hungry. Gods above, he was a man starving. Before he could think better of it, Aegon reached up to the neckline of her gown and tore it in one swift, sharp motion. The sound of it giving way was as loud as the crackling fire and Abby’s beautiful eyes rounded, mouth falling open in shock and she squeaked.

“Aegon!” High pitched and barely a whisper, Abby was caught between giggling and scolding him, clutching at the torn edges of her nightgown. She was so deeply pink, she could be one of the blossoms in the garden. I want to write songs to the way you look right now. “What are you-”

He cupped her face and greedily drank from her mouth again, eager to hear and taste and feel more of those sounds from her. Eager to alleviate her nerves and to draw her back into the heavy lidded decadence she had just been in. He wouldn’t apologize for it either. Seven, he’d keep the ripped garment as a trophy, kept under his pillow to comfort him when he had only his hands for company. To pass away the endless days before she’d be in his bed every night.

Aegon drew her back in and she came into his arms, and something broke in the cage of his ribs to have her curled up against him, her breasts pressed up against his chest, every inch of her curved into his spaces, as if he were Galladon of Morne and she truly was the Maiden herself come down to love him. He’d been with women, too many to count and too much of a drunken haze to remember much, but here and now, it was seared into his memory with the boldest of color and sound and taste. To have her curled against him like this, whining and whimpering his name like a prayer made him drunker than his favored arbor red.

A final, tender kiss, and Aegon regretfully pulled away from the sweetness of her mouth to gently turn her so she was sitting in his lap. The gown had been lost and she was naked in his arms when he coaxed her to lean back. Her pert ass fit against his nearly painful erection, and her head rested back on his shoulder. “Relax,” he told her while he watched the way his splayed fingers encompassed her thighs and coaxed them apart to hook on either side of his slightly bent legs. He did not want to have her closing them during this. Aegon wanted her open for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered for the countless time against her shoulder and laved his tongue along the salty taste of her skin before pressing reassuring kisses against the trail. Abby squirmed, her hands coming up to cover herself and he let her have it for the moment. There was no harm in it, and it brought him such joy to see the way her delicate fingers spanned the soft weight of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful. Such a good girl.”

Abby gulped for air and nodded. “I try so hard.” He smiled against the curve of her shoulder and watched his fingers stroke along the damp, sensitive skin of her thighs.

“I know you do. You try so hard at everything. Let me do this for you, Abby. But you have to promise me something.”

“A-anything. Anything, Aegon.” So trusting. So fucking trusting and he swore he would be worthy of this unyielding faith she had in him.

“You told me you never asked me for anything-” She made a sound and moved to turn, but he bit down into the softness of her shoulder and instead she cried out in shock, in pleasure, maybe a light bit of pain. In the carriage, she has made the softest of moans when he’d tugged her hair, and the way her skin flushed when he cupped the fragile curve of her neck had heated his blood and made him curious what hidden desires he might coax from his hunītsos. His wanton little rabbit who desired him with such bright eyed eagerness, without fear or hesitation. Aegon soothed the bite with a kiss before continuing. “But I want you to ask me for more, to tell me when something feels good. I only desire your pleasure. Let me do this for you.”

Abby met his eyes then, and he could barely make out the beautiful blue in how blown her pupils were. Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips.

“Yes,” she whispered and it sounded like a prayer, it sounded like relief as she sagged into his body, and when Aegon pressed his middle and ring finger against her mouth, she opened up and greedily sucked them down with the lingering taste of her clinging to his skin. His other arm held her close to him and he dragged his fingertips slowly up and down the center of her body, from between her pert breasts down her along the clenching muscles of her belly. The sound of her mouth went straight to his cock and Aegon carefully shifted against her ass to keep his own peak at bay. Slowly, he drew his fingers away and he didn’t hesitate to finally drag them once more between her folds. The sight of watching his hand there, against her curls twisted something deep inside of him that had his head spinning.

Abby was soaking. He could already feel the dampness running onto the front of his breeches and he let out a low, long moan of his own. “You sound like the heavens,” he told her with his mouth against the shell of her ear, tongue licking against the soft skin. Aegon took his time simply relishing in the way she felt, exploring the shape of her before he mercifully began to stroke his fingers against the bundle of nerves she struggled so much with. Abby let out a strangled cry and her body arched, but he held her tight, the same way he did when she tried to move too much on Sunfyre; to hold her close against him so the feel of her could sear into his skin, so she could feel the pounding of his heart in tune with hers.

“More,” she whispered in a strangled voice, and the curl of his grin was a feral thing against the shell of her ear. Her hips rolled into his touch even with the way he held her steady and the whine she made was a heady thing. “Too much,” she said almost immediately after the words spilled. He laughed and continued the steady rhythm of circling that precious spot.

“More and too much,” he teased, and Abby tried to arch again when he tapped gently, the sound of it soft and slick. Her toes spread out as her heels pressed frantically into the bed and he could feel the way she shook beneath his touch. Vibrating and threatening to fall. “You must have worked your poor little cunt for so very long to be this close already.” Aegon’s cock was aching. He felt like his balls would burst and if he couldn’t bury himself inside of her. He wanted to decorate her with his spend and trace it across her fire-touched skin.

Aegon kept the pace, fingers steadily increasing the pressure on that aching clit of hers. Slowly, his hand rose from where he pressed it against her belly to cup the breast he’d teased before. He barely had the time to relish the weight of it before the swipe of his fingers against that tightly pebbled nipple sent her falling over the edge, a cry so loud he had to quickly clap his hand over her gaping mouth so as not to alert her brother in the next room. It did little to stop her. If anything, Abby whined louder, shuddering against his body, her hips rolling up into his hand in a clear seeking motion. It was enchanting, a heady thing more intoxicating than the finest red wine, or her sweet ciders that he favored lately.

“Lykirī,” he commanded her and in response, Abby’s teeth caught on his fingers and nipped sharply. An amused laugh vibrated through him and puffed against her curls and Aegon slapped her cunt, his own teeth catching along the smooth column of her neck. Fingers now two knuckles deep in her warm mouth, he had to hook his leg around one of hers to keep her from squirming away. “I won’t leave you without seeing how you take me,” he promised. Warned, truly, while he pressed warm, wet kisses along the curve of her shoulder. He was pulsing against the curve of her ass, unable to help the roll of his hips up to try ease the ache.

Aegon’s middle finger traced her still fluttering entrance and gently, carefully, oh so tenderly, he pressed the blunt tip of his finger in. Her first peak would make it easier, but he was barely to the second knuckle before he bit down on the curve of her shoulder and let out a low groan.

Abby was a vice, tight and warm, and all he could think was ‘how the fuck am I going to fit?’

He needed to stop for his own self, for her to get used to the intrusion. Aegon was left gasping against her skin and trying to tell himself he couldn’t sink in all the way, that he couldn’t add a second digit and feel her stretch and whine. He didn’t want to hurt her. No, Aegon wanted to show her the pleasure she would find with him, in his arms, in their marriage bed. Abby choked around his fingers, pulling them from her mouth with a gasp, strings of spit connecting his hand to her swollen lips.

“Feels… feels… good.. You’re so good… to me…” she panted, and something warm and bright bloomed within his chest at her praise. Aegon’s finger pressed deeper and she rolled her hips up and he felt her arm squirm awkwardly between them, but he was too distracted by the warm vice of her body until he felt her soft hand over the hardness of him. He gasped and his own fragile whimper tore from him. Unbidden and instinctive, he rubbed his mouth against her shoulder and felt his vision going hazy and spotty. Aegon’s hips rolled up into her hand, wanting to bare himself to her and let her play and explore, but he realized that just as he had snared her into him, she had done the same. “For me?” she asked, and Aegon thought he was going to die. Another whimper, a choked gasp of laughter as he slowly sunk in as far as he could.

“Always,” he promised her. Her fingers squirmed and when she moved her body to give herself more room, it forced herself to ride his finger, which in turn made her tremble and shake. Abby’s petite grasp was scrambling against the half undone laces and Aegon’s hand moved with her body to help her work her hips against him. Her arousal was dripping onto his hand, the wet sound of their joining nearly better than the little grunts and shaky mewls she made. He tried to hush her and Abby lifted his hand to suck down his fingers again to muffle her sounds.

He was going to die. Aegon was going to die in this bed, his Maiden shimmering and shining from pleasure, the last thing he’d taste and touch and see. When her fingers managed to slip inside of his half-laced breeches, cool hands against his warm flesh, he was so utterly lost. Aegon groaned, her name a mantra as he bit down into the curve of her shoulder, his finger moving more frantically inside of her, curling up to find that spot that would make her shake. He hadn’t peaked in his breeches since he was a lad, and there he was, rutting up against her hand.

It was only through his own experience that he kept going until she followed him back over the edge, crying against the gag of his fingers and little rush of damp slipping across his palm while he worked her down. The feel of her squeezing his finger, and her own hand on him, had his mind spiraling, and it was taking everything in him not to shift her body over his and thrust his cock deep into her.

Aegon lost time after that. His head had gone fuzzy and hazy and when his senses had come back, his arms were wrapped around her. Abby had turned against him enough that she could press her face into his neck, and with heavy lidded eyes, Aegon watched her look at the way her own hand glistened with him.

Tentatively, Abby lifted her hand to her mouth and the tip of her tongue darted out to lick him from her finger.

He had died. Aegon Targaryen had died bringing his betrothed her first peaks, and came with just a touch of her hand like a kitling. Now he was in the afterlife, watching her savor the taste of him, smelling like bergamot and sugar, of sunshine and musk.

“You’re…” Aegon’s words trailed off and he nosed against her, licking his way into her mouth and tasting himself on her tongue. He had no words for what he felt. Her hands reached into his hair to tug and bury those messy fingers and Aegon didn’t care. His own hand, covered in her, stroked along her hip and hauled her closer to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, nipples dragging against his skin. Blindly, he reached for his discarded shirt and when they broke away, Aegon shifted them so he could slide his shirt over her head and do up the laces.

Abby was heavy limbed and flushed, the ocean blue of her eyes glittering beneath her drooping eyelids. She was a mess, and so was he, and had this been any other time, he’d order them a bath and fresh sheets. He’d cuddle her in the steaming heat of the water and see how quickly he could make her shatter, and guide her in the desperate dance she clearly was eager for.

For now, it was a secret thing. Something sacred, maybe holy.

Aegon knew nothing except that Abby was yawning and burrowing into his chest and he could do nothing but stroke her sweaty curls from her cheeks and press kisses against her freckles. The night was long ahead of them. There would be enough time to leave.

Not even his mother could tear him from her arms right now.

[Chapter Nine]

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