#savage acts of barbarity
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Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Photo
Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Text
Hostages tortured to death. Parents executed in front of their children. Doctors beaten. Babies murdered. Sexual assault weaponised. No, not Hamas crimes. This is part of an ever-growing list of documented atrocities committed by Israel in the five months since 7 October – quite separate from the carpet bombing of 2.3 million Palestinians in Gaza and a famine induced by Israel’s obstruction of aid. And yet while the western establishment media has been chock full of the most lurid allegations of savagery directed against Hamas, sometimes with little or no supporting evidence, Israeli atrocities are excused or quickly forgotten. Accusations against Hamas are endlessly reheated to paint a picture of a supremely dangerous and bestial militant group, in turn rationalising the slaughter and starvation of Gaza’s population to “eradicate” it as a terrorist organisation. But equally barbarous atrocities committed by Israel – not in the heat of battle, but in cold blood – are treated as unfortunate, isolated incidents that cannot be connected, that paint no picture, that reveal nothing of import about the military that carried them out. If Hamas’ crimes were so savage and sadistic they still need to be reported months after they took place, why does the establishment media never feel the need to express equal horror and indignation at equivalent or worse acts of cruelty and sadism being inflicted by Israel on Gaza – not five months ago, but right now? Israel's torture of doctors, its sexual assaults of Palestinian women, it's leaving premature babies to die after its forces stormed a hospital. Where is the outrage? This is part of a pattern of behaviour by the western media that leads to only one possible deduction: Israel’s five-month-long attack on Gaza is not being reported. Rather, it is being selectively narrated – and for the most obscene of purposes. Through consistent and glaring failures in their coverage, establishment media – including supposedly liberal outlets, from the BBC and CNN to the Guardian and New York Times – have smoothed the way for Israel to carry out mass slaughter in Gaza, what the World Court has assessed as plausibly a genocide. The role of the media has not been to keep us, their audiences, informed about one of the greatest crimes in living memory. It has been to buy time for US President Joe Biden to keep arming his most useful of client states in the oil-rich Middle East, and to do so without damaging his prospects for re-election in November’s US presidential vote. If Russian President Vladimir Putin was a madman and a barbarous war criminal for invading Ukraine, as every western media outlet agrees, what does that make Israeli officials, when every one of them supports far worse atrocities in Gaza, directed overwhelmingly at civilians? And more to the point, what does that make Biden and the US political class for materially backing Israel to the hilt: sending bombs, vetoing demands for a ceasefire at the United Nations, and freezing desperately needed aid? Worrying about the optics, the president expresses his discomfort, but he carries on helping Israel regardless. While western politicians and commentators worry about some imaginary existential threat those brief events of five months ago pose to the nuclear-armed state of Israel, Israel is quite literally wiping Gaza off the map day by day, quite undisturbed.
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bleep
#why do English people act that way#just saw someone say to an American that they’re ‘talking down to English people to feel closer to their ‘2% scottish dna’#like are you that desperate to be oppressed#sorry we’re funner than you#all the English people who live here are welcomed and love it#and you’re a smelly bitch who still in this day of our lord 2023 mock our accents and language#and was it not just last year I had multiple instances where Eddie’s called me a savage and Scottish people ‘barbaric’ 🙃#like ??? is this 1500#i got asked on a school trip to London if we ate grass
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Savage Acts of Barbarity
The barbarity witnessed in Panagurishti reached unfathomable depths, exacerbated by the presence of anguished relatives forced to bear witness to the atrocities inflicted upon their loved ones. These acts of brutality were not isolated incidents but occurred repeatedly, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in their wake. Countless tales of horror emerged, revealing the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, young girls, children, and even infants.
Heartlessness Beyond Measure
The perpetrators, devoid of pity or compassion, displayed a level of cruelty surpassing even that of wild beasts. Unlike the tiger, which refrains from slaying its own young, these Turkish assailants demonstrated a chilling disregard for innocent life. Infants were callously snatched from their cradles and tossed about with bayonets, while others were impaled upon the barrels of guns, their blood staining the hands of their tormentors. Heads of children were severed, and their still-bleeding remains callously paraded through the streets by other children Bulgaria Tours.
Eyewitness Testimony of Unimaginable Horror
These chilling accounts, recounted by eyewitnesses and meticulously recorded by Mr. Schuyler, bear testament to the unimaginable horrors witnessed in Panagurishti. The tears, anguish, and despair of those who lived through these nightmarish events underscore the gravity of the atrocities committed. Hundreds of women came forward to share their harrowing experiences, each one a testament to the widespread nature of the outrages inflicted upon the populace.
The Painful Truth Revealed
The testimonies of these women laid bare the painful truth of their suffering, with not a single woman in the village escaping the horrors of outrage. While in other places, reluctance to speak out may have been observed, in Panagurishti, the women did not hesitate to recount their ordeals. Even at Avrat-Alan, where a sense of reluctance initially prevailed, a delegation of ladies eventually mustered the courage to convey their grievances to Mr. Schuyler, leaving behind a poignant letter detailing the widespread nature of the outrages.
The Depths of Human Cruelty
The atrocities witnessed in Panagurishti stand as a testament to the depths of human cruelty unleashed during times of conflict. The harrowing testimonies of survivors serve as a stark reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability to prevent such atrocities from recurring in the future.
0 notes
Text
It’s fucking insane to me how normal Yankee Liberals are about Hawaii. As in like the way they just treat it as an unremarkable fact that their nation controls the island. Like the annexation of Hawaii wasn’t just any old example of Settler-Colonialism, the subjugation of a decentralised non-urbanised people that could be just dismissed as mere “tribes” or what have you. Not to say that such forms of “typical” Settler Colonialism are any less abhorrent or disgusting, just easier to justify from a Liberal point of view. Easier to claim that they weren’t *really* using the land properly or that they were an hopelessly and eternally backwards who only really benefitted from their conquest or that they were doomed and dying anyway and their fate was a mere tragic inevitability not worth dwelling on or…
Point is all these arguments are all wrong and stupid and cruel but they can serve well enough to downplay or justify such atrocities in the eyes of Imperial Core Liberals.
But like with Hawaii you don’t have that. The Kingdom of Hawai’i was a sovereign state that was internationally recognised as such by the Great Powers of Europe even at the very height of Western Imperialism. Literacy rates were high and compulsory education was introduced in 1841 (pre-dating the US by 77 years), healthcare was given to all Hawai’ian subjects free of charge, Christianity was dominant (so even the most ardent Imperialist couldn’t claim that the people were in the thrall of some “barbaric superstition” that necessitated the “civilising influence” of empire) and it had a well-developed Capitalist economy dominated by Sugar production. Like even if we take the Western model of statehood as the be all end all of what separates the civilised from the savage (to be clear hear you really fucking shouldn’t, but many people do so for a second that’s the frame of reference we’ll employ) then Hawai’i was very much unambiguously the former. But that didn’t stop the US from shamelessly interfering it’s politics Indeed those aformentioned markers of Western-Style “civilisation” and “development” came with the price of allow US missionaries and investors to settler in the islands and become very wealthy and influential. For decades the US used the threat of force to influence the policy decisions of the kingdom, going as far as to regularly send warships in a classic display of “gunboat diplomacy”. In 1887 a US settler militia called the First Honolulu Rifles staged a coup where they forced Kalākaua to accept a new Constitution that heavily favoured the interests of USamerican settlers who had grown very wealthy through their investment in sugar production on the island. It stripped the Monarchy of much of its power and introducing requirements for voting that heavily favoured US settlers; re-introducing wealth/property requirements that were now higher than even, allowing resident aliens to vote and just outright banning any Asian immigrants from voting (which at that point had as much to do with plain racial hatred as it did to any acting threat they might have posed). This wasn’t enough for the Yanks and 6 years later a group of 13 US settlers known as the “Committee of Safety” outright overthrew the newly crowned Queen Liliʻuokalani when she refused to co-operate. It existed briefly as an “Independent” USamerican dominated republic before the US government decided to official annex it in 1898 (similar to what you saw with Texas or California).
While incredibly controversial at the time due to both strategic concerns with the annexation of ultramarine territories and some level of outrage at the shameless take-over of a sovereign nation (hence the time gap between the coup and the actual annexation), nowadays Yanks enjoy their control over the island without the slightest care in the world. They even turned it into a tourist destination, a heavily romanticised one that not only receives many millions of visitors every year but is constantly mentioned in the popular culture the US then proceeds to export all over the world, literally revelling in their land that is by literally any definition (even the most nakedly pro-imperialist) stolen. The land itself is severely exploited to the point of significant ecological damage, the indigenous peoples too are exploited as many of them live in poverty while US investors grow wealthy from their land and labour. Even their very culture is stolen and monetised, the most marketable parts bastardised into cheap kitsch and the rest of it left to rot, only kept alive through over a century of continued resistance from the indigenous peoples. It’s a very common story of course, but I think it stands out with how utterly ghoulish it is even under the most Liberal of consistently applied worldviews. It would be like if in say 2007 someone set up Disneyland in Bagdad. And yet by the vast majority of the US (and by extension the vassals states whose view of the situation is filtered through the lens of US media and propaganda) it isn’t seen that way. Hawaii is just the 50th state, the only state outside North America and in the tropics (hahaha ain’t that a neat little fact. Geography is so fun J), an island paradise perfect to visit with the whole family and yet still as American as Apple Pie. Even many self-described “progressives” talk about it in this way, at most mentioning the plight of the indigenous Hawaiians with minimal though as to how this situation came about. Like while the story of Hawaii is far from unique; even in terms of the US doing colonialism to Westernised peoples you examples such as the ethnic cleansing of the Five Civilised Tribes from the Eastern USA, it still stands out to me with the sheer level of international recognition and Western-style development that the Kingdom of Hawai’i possessed. Like it’s just such an obvious example of the naked greed at the heart of the USamerican empire, and how utterly bullshit talk of a “civilising mission” and “spreading democracy” is. No matter what they may claim, no matter what excuses they may trot out, Imperialist rapacity has no limits.
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gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 5: Resolve
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)
Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.
Hello, all! I know, it’s so soon! But this one is a cobbled-together piece of stuff you’ve already seen, just padded out a bit more. I figured I might as well push it on out now, so here ya go! Featuring Jason Lannister for the very first time, to finally bring all this shit together a bit more cohesively. As always, thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs for reading though this and reassuring me it isn’t total shite!
TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, age gap, general Daemon grottiness, allusions to non-consensual sexual situations.
According to most, Daemon Targaryen is a man in possession of little capacity for feeling beyond what is required to partake in lechery and barbarism. He knows himself; his disparagers are not entirely wrong. Except for one important, essential truth—he would die for his family. He loves his family.
Love, as he understands it, is what he has always felt when looking upon his brother, upon Rhaenyra. No matter the strife that has torn him from his kin time and time again, he can freely acknowledge that such sentiments will remain everlasting.
A kicked hound is one most loyal, he thinks with no small degree of bitterness. Or perhaps the meanest hound is more loyal. Either way, I am the hound—and my master, the King.
Love is what has wrenched harsh and twisting in his heart whenever he laid eyes on you, a toddling girl-child eternally eager for the cossetting attentions of your uncle, your kepa—and he had always been kepa, never Viserys, no, your father had never received an honour beyond being called ‘papa’ like any common pauper—now a stranger in so many ways.
The garden and the morning repast had served to ignite the wellspring of all his wildest desires, delivering to him seemingly all he had ever wanted in a prospective bride; young and beautiful, obedient and good-tempered, Valyrian of colouring and of status. But you had seemed smaller than your younger self—trapped in a prison of your own making, hidden beneath layers and layers of chaste courtesy and painstaking banality. And then, accompanying you to the Dragonpit had given him a curious glimpse into the power you kept hidden, the ancient strength of your lineage slipping through the cracks in your genteel veneer.
Regal. Arcane. These are the words that had come to mind watching you interact with your mount, none other than the famed Cannibal himself; something of the majesty of the Conqueror lay within you, waiting for the necessary spark to kindle the flame. Your exchange with Athfiezar—your silent fearlessness, your devotion to your savage beast, your unassuming poise—reminds him that, for all your equally meek and mild-mannered nature, you are still Targaryen. You are still his sweetling.
It is this that elicits a consuming curiosity to know more.
You are an interesting puzzle, a strange contradiction, one whose buttermilk skin and pert teats and spit-shine lips should herald as a welcome to sample the delights hidden by the fabric of your darling little gowns. Yet, you act not as a silly young thing learning of her sway over men—teasing with fluttering lashes and bit lip and lilting tone as Rhaenyra had—but as a docile girl disinclined to press the limits of propriety as all maidens do. You ride the most savage dragon in the known world, and yet there is no such quality in you that echoes your mount’s disposition; instead, a loveliness that is near to cloying, pure and unadulterated and surely too good to be true. You are a fucking princess, and yet you are perfectly content to fade into the periphery, drawing little notice to yourself and seeking none from those around you, not even your own blood. A scholar, quick-witted and erudite, but somehow still so sweetly unknowing of the depravities that rule the minds of men who lay eyes on you.
You fascinate him. And his newfound realisation does not lessen his temptation to fuck you—to ply you with praise and charm and no small hint of avuncular affection (the reminder of your shared blood thrills him to the bone as always) so that, over time, you might be swayed to give your maidenhead to him—but, rather, that it results in a metamorphosis, a muddling, his longing mingling the base needs of the flesh with a rekindling of his fondness for you.
Which is why he cannot stand the presence of Jason Lannister.
“Why are you entertaining this farce?” Daemon asks, fists clenched at his sides. “A pompous fuck like him has no business anywhere near her.”
“Whatever is the problem, brother?” Viserys says distractedly, hunching over his miniature of Old Valyria and studying the replica of the Targaryen manse on the outskirts with intent. “Jason Lannister is Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. By any standard, I would think he is the best contender for her hand.”
That fucking model of his. Daemon resists the urge to smash the King’s stone city into rubble, though doing so might grant him the attentiveness he is sorely lacking from the man. “Are you not hearing me? He’s an arrogant cunt. He’d bore her in a sennight, let alone whatever hellish span of time an entire marriage would last.”
Viserys hums noncommittally. “She will make do”—he waves Daemon off—“as all noblewomen must when their fathers command them to marry. That is her lot in life. Besides, Lord Jason is one of the wealthiest men in the Realm, and I am told he is rather pleasing to a lady’s eye. She could do worse than he.”
His brother’s remark is a fair one—of the trio, Jason is the preferable choice. And what a fucking miserable choice it would be.
He rolls his eyes. This is going nowhere. “And Tyrell? Your idiot son? Are they the ‘worse’ you speak of?”
Between that foppish peacock, his spiteful little twit of a nephew and the prancing Lion, the latter just barely scrapes by as the best of the bunch.
“Enough, Daemon.” The King sighs, finally deigning to look up from his pile of rock. “These are the suitors she herself has chosen. I care not for the particulars; only that the girl should be wed before her eighteenth name day. Each of them possesses some quality I am sure she finds worthwhile…”
At that, he pauses, brow furrowing. He squints up at Daemon. “What is your interest in the matter, anyway? It has naught to do with you.”
Shit. Daemon makes an evasive comment—something about sullying the purity of their noble lineage—and departs as quickly as he can, eager to escape the risk of Viserys’s suspicion falling on him. It would not do for the man to suspect his intentions toward yet another of his daughters.
He does not intend to seek you and the Lord out, truly; but it nonetheless does not surprise him to realise that, upon freeing himself from the wrathful spiral of his own musings, his feet have taken him to the very same garden where he had first laid eyes upon you again after so many years, where you are now enduring the attentions of the insufferable Lannister patriarch. On this occasion, Cole is nowhere to be seen, and the entry is instead guarded by one of the Cargyll twins.
Daemon spies you on the path just inside, a careful distance placed between you and Jason. Though he cannot make out your expression from his vantage point, he observes well enough the flourishing bow the lord proffers in your direction, the polite curtsey you extend in return, his smug prancing step as he leaves your company. He sees the manner in which your shoulders droop, your head bowing as you turn to wander past the great tree and out of sight. My poor girl.
And then his view is blocked by a garish wash of red and gold.
“Prince Daemon,” Jason says with a haughty simper. With a curt nod, Daemon wordlessly returns the salutation. His lack of warmth is noticed; the Lannister lord hesitates for a moment before returning to his condescending civilities, forcing a relaxed stance. “I was most glad to hear of your return.”
He doubts that. There is little love lost between him and the lord. Jerking his chin toward the garden, he asks, “Leaving so soon, are we? I had thought the entire afternoon was devoted to this little outing.”
Jason chuckles awkwardly. “Well.” He scratches his beard. “The Princess has another engagement to attend to. Something about a tutor.”
Thank the gods for that Lysan fellow. They had never met, but Daemon is certain he’d like the man well enough.
“Doesn’t concern you?” he asks, scarcely bothering to conceal the scepticism from his tone. At the confusion on Lannister’s face, he clarifies. “That she’d rather spend time with her tutor than with you?”
“Why would it, my Prince?” is the answer, self-assured as ever. “He is old, and frail. Best for her to spend as much time with him as she can before she leaves for Lannisport.”
That genuinely irritates him, and not simply the notion of you being shipped off to the lurid monstrosity that is Casterly Rock. Even he knows that your meetings with your tutor are less obligations and more gatherings of friendship—your spirit would surely crumble if you were denied your dearest companion after being coerced to marry.
Daemon suppresses a sneer. “Your confidence is… admirable.” If misplaced, he wants to add.
“There is little competition to be found,” Jason says with a toss of the head. His tawny hair rustles in the gentle breeze, giving him the appearance of the sigil his House has claimed. Fucking ridiculous. Then, the man has the audacity to clap a palm against his arm. “Never fear—I shall take utmost care of her. She’ll want for nothing as my lady wife.”
He shrugs off the over-familiarity, stepping out of reach. “For a time, perhaps. And in a decade? Two? A Princess of the Realm has no business playing nursemaid to her husband in his dotage.”
He is older than I, he thinks. And if she is truly considering him above the others, then…
“I might be the eldest of her suitors, yes,” the man says, a tense smile disguising his offense poorly. “But I have a rather substantial inheritance, unlike the Prince Aegon; and my constitution is more… pleasing than the Lord Tyrell, I’m sure.” His mouth curves into a knowing smirk at that, leaving Daemon with no uncertainty as to what he really means. That little—“I would not dismiss Jason Lannister from the competition just yet. She will choose me; I suggest you accustom yourself to reality, Prince Daemon.”
He grunts dismissively, incensed. There is no reply he can give in this moment that won’t incite the Lannisters to break faith with House Targaryen; and so, he chooses to remove himself from the odious man’s presence entirely, stalking past with nary a word of farewell.
You sit where your younger half-sister had a scarce moon’s turn ago, eyes fixed toward your lap, turning an ornament about with your small fingers. As he nears, the lion salient glimmers in the sun, gold against gold in dazzling vulgarity. Of course, he’d gifted her something with his own fucking sigil on it. What a worthless bequest.
When he calls your name, you hardly react. Your gaze flickers up to him for a mere moment before falling once more, resuming your surveyance of the item in your grasp. There is a pensive expression lingering in your frown, the crease in your brow. It tells him all he needs to know of your true feelings for the Lannister lord, regardless of the man’s own delusions.
“Why—you look positively miserable, sweetling,” he says, settling himself beside you. You glance up at him again, sullen pout puffing out your lower lip. Though your disposition is so downtrodden, it is tempting to press his thumb to that lip, to push inside and feel the wet warmth of your tongue pulse against his flesh in a coquettish tease. “Not enjoying being courted? The gifts, the attention, the romance…”
You take the bait beautifully. Starting at his reference to the pendant in your hold, your nostrils flare exasperatedly. “No. No. I—I just—” You stop, shaking your head. “Never mind.”
“Go on,” he cajoles gently, lowly. “Tell Uncle Daemon.”
It is all the encouragement you need. “There is little romance to be found in this—this charade.” You sigh, eyes fixed on some minute detail past his head. He’s struck by the melancholy in your voice. “These men—Lord Jason, Lord Denys, Aegon—they do not want me. They want an idea of me; a Targaryen bride with pale hair and Valyrian blood. One who will give them children they shall make little effort to raise, a silent doll to clasp onto and show off at feasts and balls… as though possessing me is somehow meaningful. They do not—they do not see me.”
It’s here your voice cuts off strangely. He wishes it hadn’t, for he finds himself enthralled by the mournful monologue that paints a picture of the loneliest girl in King’s Landing. There is something yearning and haunted in that saccharine stare of hers, he thinks. A babe with her arms held out, wailing at the world as it leaves her abandoned in the crib. It’s an eerie echo of a conversation that took place a decade prior, though the lead role lacks the infantile petulance of the previous star.
He finds himself retracing those steps almost without realising.
“Idīnnon dēmalio syt verdilla mērī issa. Dīnakson toliot, gaoso gaomagon kostas.” He is testing, prodding, waiting for what might result from his efforts. Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like.
The words make your cheeks flush fetchingly and your brow wrinkle once more, glancing back at him apprehensively. Pretty pink girl with a pretty pink blush; how far down does it spread? You swallow; pause; look away, wrestling with a thought. You peep back up at him.
“Se skorverdon jessivo aōt kesrȳsi jiōrtas?” you ask with surprising cynicism. You exhale loudly, staring at some fixed point in the distance. “Ābrazȳri buttā, riñar daor, mērpāves… Tolī jaelan.”
And how much joy did this bring you? you say. A wife you hated, no children, loneliness… I want more. The quiet longing in your voice is palpable.
He grimaces at the mention of his bronze bitch—he’d rather not know how widespread the knowledge of the circumstances around her… accident… had been in the wake of his departure.
“What is it you want, then?” he asks, switching back to the Common Tongue, the corner of his mouth already contorting in anticipation of the naïve response. True love, a happily ever after… We don’t get to have happy endings, he thinks to himself.
“I want someone who loves me,” you say, pressing on crossly at the huff of laughter that escapes him. “I never said I would love him!”
The pessimistic elucidation takes him aback. Again, it is not exactly what he had been expecting. Full of surprises today. He tips his head consideringly at you, inviting you to continue.
You hesitate for a moment.
“I… They say my father loved my mother. I believe it, but—” You swallow, the corners of your mouth turning down as you mull over your words. “They say he had a choice when baby Baelon was born. That he could cut her open to get the babe out, but that it would mean her certain death.”
Gods above. Where in the Seven hells had you learned that piece of information? Viserys had kept the circumstances of Aemma’s death under tight wraps, never even deigning to mention it to his own brother. It was pure happenstance that one of the maids he enjoyed fucking at the time had been present on the unfortunate day.
Your eyes glisten as you speak, limpid pools of lilac glowing like fire in the light. “I do not think I could ever choose my own life over my child’s—but they say he did not even ask her, that he just… held her down while they—How could I ever trust a man to raise the babe I bore him if he would be willing to butcher his own wife in her childbed?”
He watches as you clench your eyes tight, set your jaw and exhale a few shuddery breaths. When they blink open, they are no longer so tear-bright. Daemon suddenly admires you for it, for the way you so ruthlessly suppress weakness. He wonders how often you’ve been made to force back your own pain for the good of your family.
“What happened to your mother was a terrible tragedy, sweetling.” He reaches forward to finally grip your small, pale hand in his. It is cold and dwarfed entirely in his own. “But you cannot live in fear forever.”
You make to pull your hand away. He closes his grip tighter upon it, coercing you to look up at him properly.
“When hope is gone, what choice left is there but fear?” It is a whisper, carried on the breeze, and the thinly veiled misery pains him in the chest.
I thought that beating thing was black and dead by now, he thinks to himself.
You shake your head, smile. The picture of the melancholy maiden fades from view as you affect an appearance of energy once more, gentle and muted as it is. “I know my father loved my mother, and so love is no guarantee of loyalty; but it would be helpful, I think.”
“You see love and loyalty as intertwined, then?” he cannot help but to ask. He is intrigued by this rare showing of spirit, of vitality, a resurrection of his baby niece from long ago. It is you, finally; his little girl, only now you possess the curves of a gold-gilded whore and the thousand-year gaze of an ancient, arcane being.
“Do you not?” Your head is tilted like an inquisitive bird’s, artlessly assessing. “You cannot have one without the other. Loyalty without love makes for an easy traitor, and love without loyalty makes for an unhappy marriage.”
He laughs again at the latter part of your pronouncement. A sweet, trusting little filly waiting to be broken in.
“There are many ways to love someone, Princess.” He ogles you shamelessly, savouring the affectation of outraged bewilderment painting your countenance. “I imagine you’ll find few of them in the marriage bed.”
He waits for you to question him—to ask him what he means, to ask him to explain, to teach you, show you—but instead, you pull back, taking all the warmth from his palm with you.
“I dislike your implication, Uncle,” you say stiffly, returning your hand to your lap and nestling it between your thighs to retain the heat.
Fuck.
He backtracks raising his hands in a jesting show of defeat. “I meant nothing by it, gevivys.”
Beauty. It is an apt title. an underwhelming one, even. Surely there is little else more beautiful than the sight you make here, now, a rich blush spreading along the unblemished expanse of your chest—regrettably enclosed by pale damask just above the protrusion of your tits—the planes of your throat, not quite travelling up to decorate your cheeks.
You sigh. “You never do.”
Daemon lets the conversation lull, deciding to instead look upon the little revelation before him. You are an interesting puzzle, one whose decorum in the face of his gentle compulsion—that same persuasion he had so often utilised to get fetching girls to strip bare for him and show off their equally-as-fetching cunts—had instead left him lacking. The body of a slut and the mind of a scholar, all wrapped up in wide eyes and honey-sweet words and wild hair the shade of Old Valyria. Of home.
A wild thought seizes him. If he leans forward, he could do it. He could grip you by the back of the neck and pull you to him, press his lips to yours and coax you past your panic and fear and into a hot, sweeping rhythm, a push and pull of tongue and teeth that would set you both alight. And from there, how simple would it be to murmur pretty praise as he lowers you down, raises your skirts up, cleaves you open until your blood wets his cock with the proof of his claim, incontestable, not even by the King himself? The deed would be messy, perhaps distressing and no doubt painful, but it would solve several issues at once. He would be free to do as he likes with his lascivious desires after you are made to wed him, and you would be free from your pitiful suitors and given a husband worthy of you. In time, the hurt and shock and fright would fade, he knows it.
He could. He could. He—
The spell is broken. Your attention is diverted by the squeals of a dark-haired boy as he bowls his way to you, throwing himself across your lap with a cry of your name. Daemon tries not to glare at young Lucerys as he tries to roughhouse with you. Having somewhat learned the schedules of his family, it baffles him somewhat that the child is not at his daily lessons. Should Laenor not have him now?
The thought must conjure the man himself, the Velaryon scion appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Laenor’s expression is forbidding as he strides over to you and his son, silver locs swinging with the velocity of each step. With his glare affixed to his face, he reaches a hand down to you in silent command, staring daggers at Daemon all the while.
What the hells is his problem?
You take hold of your goodbrother, bewildered, and allow him to tug you gently from the bench beside Daemon. Lucerys slides from beside you with a rustle, easily revolving around to dart toward the grass. You are already grabbing at the boy’s hand to stop him running off.
Daemon watches Laenor attempt to rearrange his countenance into something less violent. “Would you take Luke off to the training yards, sister?”
A look of vague incomprehension cross your face at the question.
At least she senses the oddity, too, he acknowledges.
Laenor’s head turns down to where he sits, and it is then that it dawns on him that his nephew-by-marriage had very possibly been watching him stare at his baby niece’s tits for longer than he could claim plausible deniability of.
Ah, shit. The darting, mistrustful gaze suddenly makes sense.
“Of course, Laenor,” you say sweetly, biddably.
Daemon cannot help but wonder what else you might comply with if gently persuaded. He glances up at you from where he sits, smirking playfully as you turn to him.
“It seems we must part for now, sweetling,” he tells you. He ignores Laenor’s grimace from behind you.
“It does.” You shift lightly. It is clear to see that there is something about your shared conversation that has unnerved you. The notion sends a trail of perverse excitement through him. He wonders what other reactions he might prompt out of you with gentle teasing. “I—thank you, Uncle. For listening.”
The words are honest, free of artifice. It is surprisingly warming to hear. When you make to depart, he calls you back.
“What—no goodbye kiss for your beloved uncle this time?” he asks, hoping he’ll bait you into action. He determinedly disregards Laenor’s huff, eyes trained on you as you swallow with trepidation before quickly making the short few steps back to him.
Your knee settles on the seat beside him, clearly meant to be no more than a brief resting place so that you may carry out his implicit request and leave—if not for the way in which your skirts gather around your leg in a manner assured to result in your toppling over should you attempt to rise without fixing them. Daemon turns his head to yours as you free yourself from the tangle. Up close, closer than he would ever dare get usually, he can see each lash that frames your eyes, the hairs that sprout from your brows, the slick cherry bloom of your mouth—a whisper-sweet gather of plump, plush fruit he wants, needs, to take a bite from.
Would you let me, little girl? he wonders.
You gasp, a short little breath of surprise, and lurch away lightly at the closeness. A brave little thing, you return to him, pressing those precious petal-soft lips to the skin of his cheek. Your covered breasts press involuntarily against his arm.
Fucking hells.
“Sȳz bantis, kepus.” Good evening, Uncle, you say in that light little accent of yours, an unintended provocation of his basest yearnings.
With that, you bundle the boy up in your capable little hands and make for your destination, the Cargyll knight falling into formation behind you.
“Care to explain—well, all of that?” Laenor asks.
Oh—yes. Daemon pushes himself from his seat, deliberately stalling while he thinks of a response that isn’t what the fuck how the fuck when the fuck and why.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says idly, slyly, glancing over at him.
“No!” His goodnephew leans forward into his space. He is taken aback by the vehemence in his tone, uncharacteristic of the bumbling, affable man. “You don’t get to do this to her; not this one, not this time.”
“Whatever do you think I plan to do to her?” Daemon laughs, wondering at the answer himself.
Whatever would she let me do to her?
Laenor sighs, steps back. “Look.” He lightly nudges him to walk alongside him as they make for the garden’s entry. “She’s not one of your whores, Daemon. She’s just a girl. She’s not the type to play your twisted little games, so leave her be—please.”
He is warmed by the defence of your goodbrother, an admission of familiarity and care that is sure to have flourished since the man’s entrance into the family some years ago.
“What makes you think I have any intention of—how did you put it—playing games with her?” If he were a little less honest with himself, he would be affronted by the manner in which Laenor had jumped straight to an accusation. But Lord Flea Bottom’s reputation is inescapable, even after so many years. “Perhaps my objective is pure and wholesome.”
“Right.” Laenor snorts, shaking his head as he folds his hands behind his back. “You’re far more likely to fall in with her horde of suitors than to believably claim familial interest.”
True. And yet… why not? He’s conceived all manner of plots to satiate his wants, from drunken fumbles in the dark to his half-baked impulse from but a moment ago. Unlike his previous conquests, though, he doubts the need will dissipate after a single fuck. You are too important to him—his precious girl turned darkest desire, the only woman he could ever deign to carry on his line with.
Viserys has been pressuring him to seek out a bride. He mightn’t be happy with the prospect of his brother asking for his daughter’s hand, exactly, but there is surely no debate that he is the best contender. Not Jason. Not Denys. Not fucking Aegon. Daemon. And, well, if the asking should go poorly—how simple would it be to whisk you away to Dragonstone, to speak the vows and seal the deed before it can be undone? There is no risk this time, no Iron Throne to lose, no treaty or agreement that cannot be broken…
He can see it now. Your sweet little face peering up at him, marked with his blood, lip dripping red with the pledge of entangling your souls together in savage Valyrian custom. Your pretty little eyes wide with maidenly shock as he breaches your untried cunt, tight and pulsing and hotwetwarm, binding you to him irrevocably. The slow waddling of your gait as you round with child, his child, his sweetest babe bringing forth life of her own, belly ripe with seed and leaking his spend—
“Laenor,” he says slowly, eyes glinting as his lips upturn in a wide grin, “I do believe you have the best ideas.”
Read the story on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/120880855
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