#self indulgent medieval clothing
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moonlight sonata- a joel miller x reader
summary: entranced by your enigmatic history professor, you can't help but feel like he's hiding something from you. is it really that crazy to think that joel miller might actually be.... a vampire?
warnings: no use of y/n, teacher x student relationship, vampire!joel, professor!joel, student!reader, no outbreak!au, hefty age gap, a self-indulgent vampire fic i'm not even gonna lie, and of course smut (biting, desk fucking, pussy eating, period sex, fingering, finger sucking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.)
The rocky shore line raged alongside the whistling storm, brazen waves slapping and slamming against the rocky coast with each crack of lightning. The stone covered castle far off the outskirts of the small, hidden university was mostly shrouded in the darkness of night, except the flickering of a candle light at the highest window.
With each tick tock of the clock, the rain continued its journey on through the evening, painting the green grass with its wet dew. You cursed yourself for making an appointment with your history professor on this day of all days, annoyed that the weather decided to act up on this particular Wednesday, as if the storm hadn't been brewing for days on end.
As you walked along the cobblestone path, the moon slowly clawing up the canvas of the sky, your mind wandered to thoughts of him.
Joel Miller. Dr. Joel Miller. Professor Joel Miller. He didn't mind what he was called, as long as they got the "Joel" part right.
He was an enigmatic as he was handsome: charming, intuitive, mysterious, quiet. Every time you thought you were getting over him, he did something to draw you right back in. The flash of a smile sent directly to you during a test, a gentle brush of his fingers across your shoulder, a comment made on a well-written paper of yours- he knew just what to do to keep you tight on the line of his fishing hook. Whether he knew what he was doing, well... that was another question entirely.
You had asked to meet him after his office hours because of a particularly jarring comment he left on one of your papers.
Your research on Medieval Romanian folklore demonstrates commendable dedication and insight into the complexities of nocturnal life and the myths associated with it. However, I urge you to exercise caution in your interpretations, as some observations may lead you down paths best left unexplored. Remember, curiosity can be both a blessing and a curse.
Since you read what he wrote, you haven't been able to get it out of your head.
Weeks of research on Romanian folklore, specifically that of vampires, had left you questioning and guessing a multitude of previously learned lessons. You felt crazy, waking up in the dead of night because you felt eyes on you, the lingering kiss of a pair of sharp teeth ghosting against the soft skin of your neck. And, even more crazy -admittedly- you found yourself studying Professor Miller even more closely after his comment.
He only held his classes in the evening, his office hours were far later than any other professor, and you could always see his office light flickering on throughout the night, a beacon of hope you could look out to from your dormitory, when you were jerked awake by nightmares of monsters sucking your blood dry, their sharp fangs biting in to your supple flesh as though you were their first meal in centuries.
And yet, despite the pieces of evidence you had collected over the past few semesters, you still felt like you were on the brink of insanity for even thinking about believing such a preposterous myth. Especially one that involved Joel Miller, your favorite professor.
Despite this, you longed to talk to him about that cryptic message he wrote, so you swallowed your doubts and fears and garnered up enough courage to meet up with him.
By the time you reached the thick wooden door of his office, you could barely breathe, soaked to the bone as your clothes clung to your skin, droplets of rain clinging to your skin like smears of oil paint on a canvas.
You didn't have to knock for the iron hinges of the door to swing open with a loud creak.
"Professor!" Your surprise rocked through you, eyes widening as he caught you right on time.
"Hello. I knew you were on your way up." He looked down at you, his burly build towering over your own, and beckoned you inside.
Dr. Miller's office was cold, so cold that your skin raised with goosebumps as you slowly made your way inside. The wallpaper was old and floral, ripping at the edges of the corners of the walls, and the gothic architecture of the ceiling was tall and made of stone, providing even more of a chill in the already frigid room.
His desk was dark and made of solid mahogany, an absinthe lamp standing proud in the corner, as various candles flickered throughout. Rows of books lined the shelves, all of them old and leather bound, filling the office with the musky and comforting smell of aged paper.
It felt homely, yet it was freezing. The dichotomy of those two feelings left you rather stumped.
Joel made his way to his chair, his tight black pants and loose, long sleeved white shirt bellowing beneath the cranked A/C.
Perhaps you were just wet with rain, but you couldn't stop shivering.
"D-Do you run hot, or something?" You finally managed to stutter out, your arms hugging tight around your body as you sat across from him.
The Professor grinned ever so slightly, grabbing a black coat that hung on his tall coat rack, moving to hand it to you. When he got close, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. You watched his knuckles turn white against the collar of the jacket, and you heard him slowly take in a deep breath.
Slowly you looked up, his pupils blown wide with some archaic sort of desire, darkening with every breath he took in. It was as though he was breathing you in. Your thighs clenched tightly as his hand dropped to your shoulder.
Joel looked down at you, blinking slowly, as though he were coming back down to reality from an existential crisis or nerve racking nightmare. A shudder ran down the teachers spine, before he quickly dropped the material in your lap and rushed back to his chair, quickly becoming composed and poised as though nothing else had happened.
What was that about?
Dr. Miller peered at you from across the desk, smoothing out a paper that lay before him. The air was thick with an awkward sort of palpability, and you were scared if you tried to speak, nothing would come out of your mouth, your tongue dry like cotton.
"You said you wanted to meet with me?" He finally asked, his words slow and deep, that familiar Southern drawl clinging to each syllable in a smooth, honeyed sort of way.
"Y-.... yes." Clearing your throat, you somehow managed to sit up straighter, bringing the fleece coat tight upon your shoulders. "My paper."
"The one about vampiric Romanian myths, I assume. What about it?"
"I..." You paused once more, your mouth hanging open at the sheer insanity of what you wished to say next. "I think we should stop calling them myths, Professor."
Your professor chuckled a lovely, warming chuckle, a hand gently running down his stubble covered cheek. "Is that so?" His voice dropped an octave, and you saw his pupils grow dark once more.
With furrowed eyebrows, you began to speak once more. "I researched this extensively, you see. These... these sources, from the 15th century, they're accompanied by various art pieces, debates... I-I even read papal court cases involving humanoid creatures that only hunt at night. All of that-all of it is just a myth? Something doesn't add up to me."
"When studying history, it's important to note that not everything is.... as it seems." He flashed you a smile, and you caught glimpse of an incisor that looked longer than usual, sharper that normal, more imposing than most.
A wave of courage rushed over you at the sight. "Just with history?" Your voice was a whisper, but for the first time that night, it did not waver.
He stood, slowly making his way towards you. Your spine straightened as he pressed against you from behind the chair, his hands slowly falling to your shoulders. His palms were warm, heating the skin of your shoulders, your mind soon forgetting the cold memory of the rain.
"What are you implying?" You looked over to him, your eyes tracing over the golden skin of his hands, rough and calloused by the hand of time. This is the skin of a killer bella.
"Are you..." You took in a defeated sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. "Are you a vampire?" You couldn't believe how stupid you felt, how stupid all of this seemed once you spoke it out loud.
He laughed, and you felt him shifting to match your height, one knee resting on the wooden planks of the floor. "What do you think?" Joel whispered, his nose gently brushing against the skin of your neck.
You took in a sharp breath of air, leaning back against him, slowly turning to face him. "Dr. Miller...."
"What?"
"You're... you're very close to me."
"Do you want me to move? I can."
You shook your head slowly. "No. Don't." And you meant it.
A mischievous smirk fell over his plush lips, and you felt a finger gently tracing down your arm. "That's what I thought. I can see you, you know. The way you act around me, how you beam when I praise you, how you deflate when I walk away from you. I'm not stupid, darlin'. I know what you want, and I can give it to you."
"And what do I want, Professor?"
You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. "Me." That one word was so infuriatingly attractive, his confidence only making him more desirable, more tempting.
You took in a sharp breath of air, your head falling into his shoulder. You felt his eyes searing in to your jugular, the smooth, taut skin of your neck on display for his chocolate hued eyes.
"How do you know that?"
"I can smell it. Your arousal. Your desire. Your need. All for me. I can make you feel pleasure like no one else can." His words were hot against your skin, and you felt his lips brushing against it with each word he spoke.
If you wanted to lie, you knew you would be unable to, now caught in his words like an animal in a trap. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yes." Was all you could say, your tongue dry once more. "But not tonight. I'm-"
"Bleeding?" Joel finished for you, and you were shook by the realization that if anyone in the world would care about that, it certainly wouldn't be him.
"How did you know?"
"I can smell it." You could practically hear the watering of his mouth, the desire which clung to the surface of his syllables. "Surely that wouldn't deter me, if what you've discovered is true. No?"
"No."
"Then let me taste you, let me have you."
"I'm yours." You whispered quietly, eyelids shutting as his mouth attached to your neck, deep kisses pressing in to your exposed flesh, searing hot with the promise of arousal.
"Oh, you always have been, haven't you?" Joel's fingers gently tangled around your tresses of hair, his tongue licking a thick strip across your throat.
"You never answered my question." You whispered out your thoughts as you felt his the sharpness of his teeth.
"I know. But you never answered mine."
"What-.... what question?"
"What do you think I am?"
"You know what I think."
"Do you have proof to back that up?" Dr. Miller's voice was getting cocky now, each word laced with more arrogance than the last.
"I've never seen you in the daylight. Never... never seen you eat or drink anything. You lurk in your office, in the shadows of the classroom. You're not like the other professor's, who are always out and about in the mornings, chattering and drinking coffee." You shut your eyes tightly, your tongue sweeping across your lower lip.
"Say it." He pleaded, words dark and cloudy with desire. "Say what I am."
"You're a vampire."
"You're right."
A shaky breath escaped you, and you slowly opened your eyes to see his mouth slightly open, the sharpness of his fangs exposed to your vision. You turned to face him head on, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering golden flame of the surrounding candles.
He looked so handsome in this light, the shadows that danced across his face only making him more imposing, more alluring. The Professors umber eyes were glued to your features, and you felt a calloused finger trace along the line of your soft jaw, his touch warm and gentle. You shivered at the feeling.
"Will you bite me?"
"Bite... you?"
"Please."
Joel ran his middle finger across your lower lip, a stray strand of hair pushed behind your ear by his slow movements. A sad sort of smile fell over his face. "That's not a good idea."
"Why not?"
He stared at you long and hard, as though he were weighing infinite possibilities within his mind. "If I start, I won't ever want to stop. I'll just keep coming back to you for more and more, it will be an infinite loop. Not to mention what.... well, what will happen to you."
"To me?"
"Eternity is a very long time." His voice turned solemn for a moment, and you nodded in silent understanding.
"How old are you?"
"Very old."
A soft giggle escaped you, and your hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks. "I always thought vampires were Romanian. Or, Byron-like and British. Like Keanu Reeves."
He chuckled smoothly, shaking his head slowly at your guess. "Not this one. I'm a cowboy, through and through. Always have been, always will be."
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you leaned towards him. "Can this cowboy kiss me?"
"This cowboy'll do whatever you want him to do."
Your eyes fluttered shut as Joel pressed his mouth to yours, a searing kiss burning through your body like an pyre ignited with flames. You moaned at the pleasure that filled your chest, his hands slowly moving to the hem of your damp shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your belly as your kiss deepened. You hooked your leg around the professors waist, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against yours.
"I want more." You moaned out breathlessly, arms hooking around his neck as you pulled away.
"Then I'll give you more."
In one fell swoop he picked you up and placed you on his desk, his sheer strength causing you to yelp in surprise. Joel kissed you as though he would never kissed another, hungrily and passionately, working the buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he stripped you of your own, only pulling away to look upon your naked form.
"You're beautiful. Perfect. Look at you." His eyes drunk in every inch of your exposed chest, and he slowly grabbed the waistline of your jeans, tugging them off of you in one brief movement of his arms.
"You're beautiful." You mumbled, planting your hands on his thick biceps, feeling the strain of his muscles against your touch.
He smirked slightly, yet you caught a glimpse of it, and before you knew it he was down on his knees, his face buried between your thighs. You felt his teeth gently bite into your thighs, not hard enough to break any skin, but enough for you to feel it. You shivered at the pleasure, your fingers tangling into his hair.
You laid back across the desk, legs hooked over his shoulders, as his lips wrapped around your swelling clit, tongue tracing circles over your sensitive button.
You groaned out at the contact, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him even closer to the slick heat of your pussy.
"You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."
All you could do was moan out at his comment, allowing him to drink you all in with every lap of his tongue, every movement of his soft lips.
"I could stay down here for eternity." Joel grumbled, sucking in your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you begging for me.
"Do what you must." You responded through a breathless laugh, shocks of pleasure jolting through your core.
His tongue swept through your folds, collecting your arousal and your blood, the metallic taste of your tang filling his senses with pleasure he never thought was possible. Joel ate your pussy like a starved man. Which, in truth, he really was.
His fingers slowly moved to the entrance of your contracting pussy, and he eased his digits in to the knuckle, hitting against that spot that made you coo with relief. As he slowly began a rhythm with his movements, Joel returned to your clit, making sure it wasn't feeling left out. He sucked and licked, lapped and groaned, your cunt the only thing in the world that he cared about in that moment.
Before you could even think of what was going on, you felt your orgasm brewing within you, and that coil was only growing tighter by the minute. Dr. Miller continued fingering you, adding in a second finger as his tongue traced shapes into your bud, your blood dripping on his chin as he took you all in.
"I'm going to- I'm... Oh, fuck. Professor!" Your orgasm rocked you like a hurricane, waves and waves of tepid bliss filling your mind until his tongue on your skin and his fingers deep inside you were the only thing you could ever remember.
He only pulled away once he licked every drop of your cum and blood up, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand. Joel looked at you darkly, eyes meeting yours, and you noticed the bulge pressing into his trousers.
"Fill me." You whispered, opening your arms to welcome him back to your embrace.
"Oh, I will."
Joel moved to your arms, his hands working at his zipper until he was completely naked in front of you. You traced your palm down the softness of his belly until you had wrapped your own hand around his cock, stiff and aching with the thought of being buried deep inside of you. You guided his leaking mushroom tip to the entrance of your cunt, slowly looking up at him.
"Take me."
"As you wish." He whispered, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he pushed in to you, hands moving to your waist.
He stretched you perfectly, each ridge and vein introducing you to new pleasures you had never felt before. Joel knew how to make you shiver, how to make you moan, and he had never heard anything as beautiful as the sound of his name falling off your pretty lips.
"You feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' tight for me, so wet." His teeth grazed against the flesh of your collarbone, and you felt his kisses pressing up and in to your neck. He bit down on your skin, much harder than the last time, his incisors tracing perfect lines on the suppleness of your throat.
Your fingers moved to his hair as you cried out his name, cheek falling into the side of his head as he pumped deep in to you. "Fuck me." You begged out breathlessly, his hips against yours growing harder and meaner with each movement.
"You're mine." His words were a growl, his words calming and deep in your ear, his heavy pants with each thrust causing you to whimper.
"I'm yours."
"Good fuckin' girl. Takin' me in." He raised his fingers to your mouth, gently pushing past your lips. "Suck."
You sucked your own orgasm off his flesh, moaning at the taste as he pulled away to watch, his pelvis hitting against yours as he fucked your pussy. A smirk flitted at the corners of his mouth.
"Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed."
You moaned out at the praise, pulling away with a gentle pop.
Joel reached down, easily finding your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. One more time for me. Okay?"
"Okay." You complied happily, laying back on the desk once more as he towered over you, chest coming in to contact with your own as he rubbed and fucked, skilled beyond any sort of measure you had ever experienced before.
"That's my girl. My pretty girl. My strong, smart, clever girl." His words were hot against your throat as he bit you again, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make himself known.
He had so much power like that, with his teeth right against your flesh. He had your life in his hands, and yet he had no desire to take it. No desire you suck you down to the bone, no desire to curse you with the eternal fate he himself had been left with. Oh, yes. Eternity does sound so romantic to those who have no concept of it, doesn't it? But Joel Miller knew. He knew what forever could do to a man. He knew how lonely it could be.
You were right under his grasp, right there. He could take everything away from you in one bite, with one movement of his teeth. And yet he didn't.
Somehow, knowing this, knowing what he could do to you, only made you want him more. The trust that was there, the respect that lingered with each feeling of his fangs against you, only made you fall harder, deeper, longer.
Your stomach tightened with another climax as you fell back down to reality, and Joel pulled away to look at you, his nose pressing in to your own as your eyes met.
"I'm going to cum again." You whispered, throwing your hands around his shoulders.
"Cum for me then, darlin'. Cum on this dick."
Hearing his voice, deep and smooth and sexy and raw, caused you to come undone, your voice giving out as you cried out silently, pleasure flooding you as your pussy tightened around his cock. Joel followed suit, burying his face in your shoulder as his own orgasm shot through, his seed spilling deep within you, painting your walls white.
His weight pressed down against you as he pulled you closer, allowing your climaxes to calm down before kissed you, his lips rough and cracked against your own.
"Perhaps I should start leaving more comments on your papers." He joked as he pulled away, gently moving to help you dress, your shirt almost dry from the rains previous assault.
"Or I could just keep coming back. Over and over again."
"I would like that." Joel said earnestly, pulling his pants on over his legs.
"I would, too." You smiled up at him, slowly getting off the edge of his desk. "Do you, uh, have any plans tonight?"
"Besides lurking in the shadows and hunting pale virgins? No, not really." Dr. Miller's voice was dry and sarcastic, yet a hint of charming care was evident.
You laughed softly at his joke, looking up at him. "Would you want to do something with me?"
"Like what? I can't exactly take you out to dinner."
Joel relished in the bright smile that stretched across your face. "We could always go for a walk? The rain has stopped."
He peered out the window, the silver light of the moon flooding in through the sheer curtains. "Then it's a date."
"Yes. A date."
And as you two walked, hand in hand through the dense forest of autumn, and as the distant waves of the ocean crashed in and out of ear shot, you wondered what could possibly be so bad about eternity if it were spent with him. Perhaps you could get used to these late night walks. Perhaps you would yearn for them for the rest of your life, however long that may be.
#joel miller x reader#studioghibelli#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us fic#joel miller smut#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x y/n#joel the last of us#tlou fanfiction#tlou au#tlou fic#joel x reader#joel tlou#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedrostories#vampire#vampire au#au#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction
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Finished Silvio's route, solid 8/10. I mean I still have questions and things I wanted to see explored. Like more about Silvio's past and why he behaved why he did. I mean I got a glimpse of it in the dramatic route a bit. Maybe I will do the romantic route too someday. Congrats Silvio, you got into the second playthrough team. But I'm satisfied with this. So here are some sketches of the ultimate tsundere.
I really love that the guy that is all about the money and wealth has taken blue as his primary color. And it is that Lapis Lazuli kind blue = one of the most, if not, the most expensive pigment made. I'm really curious why his hair has a small tuft of dark blue color there. Has he dyed it? Is it natural?
Also more my ramblings... In the prologue, as they set the world, they talk about how this game takes place in late medieval time. (of course a fictional world, but not like fantasy, with magic and such (shame really, I would love there to be some magical elements there)). BUT the clothes... the fashion... They are very modern in many aspects. I know, i know, this is very nit picky of me. This is pretty much like Bridgeton. A period fiction. But really, they didn't need to go give us a reference to a certain time period xd They could have left it even more vague. But alas... This is not really a criticism, as I can totally see past this. I just find it funny.
BUT ONE THING THAT MADE ME PUT MY PHONE DOWN FOR A MINUTE WAS THIS:
My young horse girl self just was ready to smack Silvio off his horse. You don't use reins to encourage horse to go faster! Not even with the carriages either. But especially not when you actually ride a horse. Reins are for steering and slowing down. You use weight and your legs to apply pressure to horse's sides to encourage them to go faster. (ideally you could do this only by using weight, but that needs skill and a sensitive and well trained horse.)
Routes and ratings so far (my opinion purely, there is nothing else to it really):
1. Clavis's route, dramatic ending + epilogue. I laughed so much and the theme was very interesting. Cyran was MVP. 9/10
2. Silvio's route, dramatic ending + epilogue. He was an asshole, I wasn't disappointed. Enjoyed the ride and the political shit with usage of money. Giving me Itachi vibes with the gesture of messing your hair. Could have used more Carlo. Also where is Emidio?? 8/10
3. Licht's route, dramatic ending. He edgy but sweet. I wanted to see more of twins being twins and I got some of that. I was happy :slight_smile: And he loves horses, more points from that. 7.5/10 (the reason why I didn't do epilogue for Licht was because I didn't use walkthrough and I didn't want to start paying for those points :0
4. Nokto's route, dramatic ending + epilogue . Playboy, got what I asked for. Entertaining. Could have needed more time with Licht. I want to see brothers being brothers. 7/10
I see my style evolve and I kinda like it. Indulging my teenage aesthetic. Sometimes face shapes get all weird and I'm not sure if it is because they are weird or that I'm becoming blind to them and am just trying to find something weird.
#I'm rambling again#here's the tea#ikepri#ikepri fanart#ikemen prince#silvio ricci#ikemen silvio#sketching#tsundere#Rating so far#Also me being a nitpicker for no good reason#but that just means that I care#You should see me talk about Naruto#I'm not pulling punches#fanart
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🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️
(ALT/Goth, Mostly Goth Leaning Edition!)
(Picture’s not mine!)
(Another request by @goohts , such a great supporter throughout all of this! On top of that, I have something to announce at the end of this post!)
- Right off the bat, such a great dynamic, when they first saw you they immediately went to introduce themselves— Compliment after compliment spilling from their lips.
- Asks you sooo many questions on how you decided on going for that style, means well of course, just wants to know the importance of it you as a person.
- If you’re a goth in particular? They definitely refers a whole lot to the extinct culture of the Goths, you know— The Germanic ones that wrecked the Western Roman Empire with extreme brutality and were the cause of medieval Europe emerging.
- Starts learning about the culture and history of your group so they can talk about something you like and is a part of your life.
- Dance moves? Learnt some of them so they can look “cool” at the Goth club with you, like that one video of that nerdy guy with the quarter that moves up and down like he’s on one of those kiddy revolving horses, (here) it’s a bit silly but it’s heartwarming nonetheless.
- Anyways, if you’re taller, shorter, or the same height, they can and will borrow some of your accessories/clothing. Cheeky about it too, as they show off what they borrowed as proof of them dating you, especially to Mauga.
- Can and will buy you things as a thank you for letting them borrow your stuff, likes buying stuff like that at a thrift store— That kind of stuff has personality to them.
- Piercings? They have one as well so I think they’d be giddy to show off the various extra piercings they have in this ornate jewelry box their Abuela gave Sloane specifically for them.
- Tattoos? I think we already know the answer to this one, so proud of their own and will admire yours, asking more questions as they ask whether or not yours has meaning behind them as they touch the inked skin.
- If you ask, they’d be up for getting some more alongside you, maybe even buy some extra piercings for you, goes in tandem with their love language of quality time and gift giving.
- All the while chattering about the history about both, they’re just so giddy and supportive.
- Will help and encourage you to indulge in dark facts about history if you’re into that, feed into it as they take you to a morbid museum of some sort as a date, only if you let them go to a dinosaur one afterwards.
- If you do makeup, they will be astonished by it and practically beg for you to do theirs.
- Can’t handle standing still for too long (firm ADHD Venture believer) but will accept kisses in between as a consolation prize for doing so. On top of watching an analysis video on rock formations, if it’s good they’ll be almost as transfixed as they are when they look at you.
- Once it’s done, there is a high chance of them coming back, makeup smeared or dirty and begging for you to do it again, will use the puppy eyes and the pouting lip tactic.
- Loves when you have your makeup on, thinks so cool and interesting on you, but they also love messing it up, if you catch my drift.
- I can just imagine after a particularly long time of Venture being away cause of their job, with a mix of smeared makeup on your faces after a making out, a smug grin on their face as they say something like, “Aw did you really miss me that much?”
- Boastful as all hell when it comes to the fact that, them a goofy ass archeologist was able to bag someone like you.
- Brags about you a lot whenever you come up in conversation and jumps at the chance of taking you to their job so they show you off.
- Introducing you to other people usually goes like this, “Yeah this is Reader, my partner— Looks absolutely amazing don’t they?” All the while holding the side of your waist with one arm with a self satisfied look on their face.
(Alright!!! So, after a bit of consideration I’m going to start writing for a character from Overwatch that I’ve really liked for years now, Junkrat! I like them dirty Ig lol.)
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Daphne in 60′s Medieval revival clothing! She’s finally done!
This is one of my favorite vintage trends. It’s like historical clothing inception, me interpreting a trend from half a century ago which itself was interpreting historical clothing (which is oft misunderstood, so these are very ahistorical). This is very self indulgent of me because I’m a real nerd for this shit, and the Scooby Doo characters’ clothes have changed so little since 1969, that I really had no choice but to do some vintage studies with Daphne, my queen, the sail in my ship, the ribbon in my hair. In my vision for the show, Daphne would have at least one new outfit per episode, thematically relevant of course. I figure this would be appropriate for the Black Knight or the Ghost of Merlin, would it not be just so?
#daphne blake#scooby doo#historical clothing#vintage fashion#60s vintage#medieval revival#medieval dress#medieval#historical fashion#fanart#drawing#character design#fashion design#my art#clothing design
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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Eleven
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
no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3
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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten
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Translations:
hāedus - younger sister
Bratsios - bitch
lēkȳs - older brother
Muñus - mother
ñuhus trēsys - my son
zēapos - little jadeling
Warnings: Aegon's suicidal ideation
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Whose Side Are You On
A maiden finds her claws. A drowning boy swims for the surface.
Curiosity was an excited animal inside of Lady Abrogail Strong, and it had taken every ounce of self restraint she had honed in her whole life not to immediately launch into the years of questions and ideas that had built inside of her.
She deserved praise for such restraint, and she knew none would come, but it didn’t keep her from wanting to crow about how good she thought she’d done. Abby had barely touched the meal, absently dropping her extra cold meats onto Aegon’s plate if only to get through it faster. Not even her betrothed’s clear hangover and the scent of sweat and cheap perfume clinging to his wrinkled clothing could bother her. She wouldn’t let it.
No, he would not ruin her morning with his terrible decisions and she wouldn’t dwell on it either.
“Lord Ryam will be here in a fortnight and wishes to discuss the amphora shipments,” Uncle Simon said, his brogue rumbling through him thicker than her father’s accent had been, but so heartbreakingly familiar in its ebb and flow. “It might prove a good opportunity to start getting settled, Your Grace.”
Aegon shoved a rolled piece of ham in his mouth, elbows on the table and eyes darkly circled and red rimmed. “Amphoras?” he asked through a mouthful of food. Abby raised an eyebrow at him before blowing gently on her cup of mint tea and taking a sip so she wouldn’t fling it at him.
“I would also like to take the opportunity to reach out to House Buckler. Lady Elinor came with the Baratheon retinue and she shall likely be coming with us,” Abby said quickly before Aegon could further embarrass himself. She smoothed her hands over the table. “While the Arbor is a purveyor of wines, I would like to look at bolstering the competition. I think it could be an interesting opportunity for us.”
Larys slathered cream upon his bread. “You will find my sister has fancied herself the Lady of Harrenhal for as long as she found words,” he said softly, his voice carrying over them in even tones. Abby’s ears pricked with heat. His words may have been encouraging, but there was a tone in his voice that made her feel like a child who had done something clever. Mockingly indulgent. “You will find yourself a very astute student, eager to learn. Isn’t that right, dear sister?”
“I only wanted to be helpful.” True to his word, they had begun having a weekly supper together, going over Uncle Simon’s latest reports on the running of their holding and that of Harrentown. It hadn’t given her much insight into the inner workings of her elder brother’s mind, but she had appreciated the education he was providing.
Now she felt the curl of doubt that Larys was so good at coaxing out of her. Aegon’s eyes were on her and she resolutely didn’t meet his gaze, instead taking another sip of her tea.
“Well that explains the rather detailed letter I received,” Uncle Simon chuckled, and it was fond. “The queries you both had were rather insightful. It is good to see you are also interested in learning to rule, your Grace.”
Aegon paused in chewing, and Abby felt the heat creep into her cheeks. She had stated in her letter that the questions had been from them both, and had framed it as a joint venture, wanting to put the best foot forward for Aegon, for them both.
“You’ll have to forgive me, Uncle,” Aegon said, voice rough from his clearly exciting night prior. She took a sip of her tea, some of the tension in her chest easing at the way he took to her Uncle so familiarly, speaking as if they were family already. “I do not quite remember all that I had asked sweet Abrogail to convey. I do know she wasn’t sure whether or not to put in the thoughts on aqueducts.”
That drew Abby’s gaze to him, but Aegon was cracking open his soft boiled egg and soaking pieces of bread in the sunny yellow yolk. She was hit with the recollection of how excited she’d been finding out about aqueducts in a dusty tome in the library. She’d dragged it all the way outside, trapping Aegon in her sudden lecture of how beneficial such things would be.
He remembered it.
“Th-that’s true! Aqueducts!” She said, finding her voice and her confidence once more. “My more immediate concern was, well… let me just go and show you.” She pushed away from the table and hurried into her bedroom that had now seen more use in the past weeks than it had in years. She came back with a haphazard folio of parchment and two larger rolls, setting them down on a side table. She took one of the large rolls, furrowing her brow. “Uncle Simon, could you hold this end for me, if you please. Ah, thank you. So I’ve been working on this for quite some time. Athair assisted with more logistical questions with the completion of the renovations and rebuilding of the hall. Harrenhal is simply too big for a simple seat. The stables can house two thousand horses, and is unfeasible. So with the sept needing to be rebuilt, and the repairs that…” she paused, the memories catching her off guard and pressing onto her with the weight of them, “that needed to be done after the fire, I thought that perhaps what would be better suited was opening it to the people.”
“The people?” Uncle Simon’s brow raised in curiosity. He didn’t seem quite as surprised as she had initially worried.
“Yes! I thought we could dismantle the right barracks by the godswood, and install the glassworks properly. In addition, the Tower of Dread - I haven’t figured what we should rename some of these towers, they really are awful - can be renovated into apartments or, if we could figure something out, to build shops and homes and places of education for those in Harrentown and truly, in the area around. Maidenpool, High Heart, even places further north. Not only that, but the everyday workings of Harrenhal do not require such expansive forges. We aren’t building an army. We could open them up to something more communal. Those who cannot afford to open their own smithies yet could work here, perhaps renting space. Of course, we need several of these for the reconstruction efforts, but I truly think we should focus on repurposing rather than to bring it up to the hubris-driven monument of cruelty that Harren the Black created. We can turn what was a curse upon our lands to something that gives back.”
Abby was breathless when she was finished, the parchment crinkling in her grip. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and Larys avoided looking at her to take a furtive bite out of his tansy cake. Uncle Simon’s eyebrows were raised so high, Abby thought they’d merge into his receding hairline.
She did not look at Aegon. She very purposely did not look at him, but from the corner of her eyes, she could see him occupied with his goblet.
“Well.” Uncle Simon broke the silence and picked up some of the parchment she had left on the table. The sheafs of paper were currently in danger of the potential tipped honey jar. “Your father did not exaggerate when he spoke of your insightfulness, niece.” Warmth spread between her ribs at the praise. “The exuberance is all your mother’s. That woman could command an army as easily as a summer ball.”
The comment stunned Abby. It had been years since someone had so easily spoken of her mother. Abby’s own memories were hazy. The smudged images she still held were of a frail woman with a warm smile and gentle voice. She could remember cold hands smoothing over her hot brow when she was ill. Visions of her mother sitting beside Queen Alicent, soothing her in those early days of bloody, picked fingers, flitted through her mind. The early days of seeing how sad the adults were, how angry they could be. The blissful ignorance in not understanding why.
“I shall look these over, Abrogail. Whatever ideas you and Prince Aegon would like to implement, I am at your command and will provide my counsel, just as I counsel Larys, and have your dear father.” Uncle SImon gave a hearty laugh and plucked up some of his cold meat. “How strange it shall be to have family in residence once more.”
The rest of the morning meal was uneventful, and Abby was caught in the strange current of nerves and excitement and the lingering uncertainty of how she felt about the mention of her mother.
“Celeste Strong could command an army as easily as a summer ball.”
Abby could not recall a time hearing her mother raise her voice the way the queen did, or Uncle Otto. Never did she recollect her mother raising a hand either. No, her few memories were warm and gentle comforts, but she could remember quiet conversations between her mother and the queen, when her mother’s blue eyes had been narrowed, and mouth pinched in displeasure. Abby remembered wondering why the queen was being scolded as a child once, how fierce her mother’s face had been.
Her father had been capable of yelling, and that was incredibly rare. The last time she’d heard him raise his voice was at Harwin after everything that had happened at Driftmark. They hadn’t realized she’d been there. The Strong household had never been a yelling household. It had never been a place she’d ever feared.
“We have dinner with the Tullys in the small hall,” Aegon said, his snappish tone pulling Abby from her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder to see that he’d followed her from the apartments. “Try not to throw yourself at Elmo Tully as you did with Vance at the feast.”
Abby’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open at the sheer audacity of what dared come from his mouth. “I beg your pardon, Prince Aegon. I seemed to have been distracted and therefore could not have possibly heard the accusation against my honor.”
He rolled his bloodshot eyes, and Abby’s firsts clenched in her pale blue skirts. Heat flamed in her cheeks, and there was a mad moment where she ached to push him over the railing into the court below.
“You do beg so prettily-”
She stepped towards him, pushing her finger into his chest. “And you’ll never hear me beg for you again, especially if you dare continue to speak to me this way,” Abby hissed. She would not cry, she refused to show him how he hurt her. “Your loss, clearly, since you are threatened so by their mere proximity, and my daring to smile and harmlessly flirt.” She scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, her curls wild to keep the chill from off the back of her neck. “I’m not the embarrassing one who showed their face this morning drunk and smelling like a brothel.” She cursed the way her voice cracked at the end, and turned on her heel to go find Wylla, to distract herself with those who would support her, and not be the target of their self-loathing.
There was a time not so long ago, where she might have taken full responsibility for Aegon’s foul mood, but she was no longer that little girl, a somewhat steelier young woman taking her place, one who understood that she was not responsible for the entire weight of other’s emotions, including Aegon’s. Abby was sorry for the cruel words she had said, the words that she knew would hurt. She was truly sorry for it, but Aegon had no right in how he continued to behave toward her in his own river of whatever self-loathing he was trying to drown himself in.
He didn’t get to use her to weigh himself down into the depths.
Abby only made it a few steps before Aegon’s large hand wrapped around her bicep in a firm grip. Her hand came up immediately, nails digging into the skin, and there was an almost pleased look on his face, a darkening of his gaze, that sent a tumult of conflicted feelings in her. Anger at not being taken seriously. Curiosity at why he seemed to find it pleasurable. The desire to scratch and claw at him until she drew red.
Her spine went rigid, a swooping sensation rolling through her belly. A rush of anger was expected, the strange thrill that accompanied it was less so. "Let go of me, Aegon."
He leaned in closer, his lip curling and his white teeth flashing in his snarl. His eyes, however, lilac and blood red from his previous night, seemed rounded, panicked somehow. "No." Aegon's gaze fell to her mouth, and she swallowed, feeling heat along her throat. She couldn't figure out if it was from anger or embarrassment and it only served to incense her further.
They were so close and she wanted to kiss him, to feel the slide of his warm mouth against hers, taste the lingering watered wine on his tongue. She wanted to bite him until he bled, to taste the crimson that would well up, and let it make her dizzy and forget everything else.
She would have kicked him if the angle was right. She would have scratched at his wrist had they been alone. If the thought hadn’t been so abhorrent, she might have slapped him.
Try as the queen might to make it true, Abby was not Alicent Hightower.
“Aegon,” she whispered, steely eyed and spine stiff. “You’re hurting me.”
His grip immediately released as if he’d been scalded, and she was sent stumbling back from the abruptness of it. Aegon’s mouth opened, shut, clenched with whatever conflict was going through him.
“Touch me like that in anger again, and it won’t be the ghost of my dearest brother you’d need to fear. I’ll geld you myself.” Wylla would gladly help her and hide the evidence. The murderous eyes that she held for the prince since the feast would have incinerated Aegon on the spot if Wylla had the power.
“Since when have you become so violent? Was your sweet and forgiving nature also a deception? A game to make me-“
Aegon fell silent, soft cheeks flushed and the silence was full and rolling with the years between them, all of the weight that brought them here. Abby was flushed with hurt that had her snapping and spitting in a way she never knew she was capable of, in a way she’d never allowed herself to feel, let alone show.
It felt good. It felt good in the way sobbing in Helaena and Wylla’s arms had done. She felt… brave.
Her mother had shown it. Celeste Strong had been more than the smiling wraith of her childhood memories, even though she had never witnessed it.
‘My mother was a lioness of Castamere. Do I not share that legacy as well?’
“I play no games, Prince Aegon.” He was not my prince right now. Her prince, her Aegon, would not treat her so. Yet, here Aegon was, doing exactly that. Behavior she had seen extended towards others had finally reached her. She thought of the list of qualities the queen found wanting in her son and her own immediate defense and her vow that she was not blind.
She had hurt Aegon, it was true, but he’d taken it and run, wielding his pain like a warhammer. It was a wound he had not expected from her. Had she truly expected him to act differently? Had she expected him to look past her words to see the pain she was in? ‘Yes,’ she thought, and he should have, but why had she chosen to hurt him instead of asking for comfort? Why had she not confided in him?
‘Am I truly so stupid and naive? Is the Queen right?’
In turn, he had expected perfection. Pretty and pliant. To comfort him as she always had. Her head ached with the confusion of all the questions.
“Did you know he got a child on one of my maids? I gave her moon tea and gold and sent her away.”
“Do not take my sweet and forgiving nature for weakness,” she hissed. Abby was the type to cry when angry, but her eyes remained mercifully clear. “I care for you, but you do not get to treat me as a toy - as a plaything that only exists for you.”
That had Aegon stepping forward and back into her space. “You’re mine, Abrogail Strong. You’ve always been mine.” The words stole the breath from her and her mouth went dry at his vow, his lilac gaze black and bloodshot, edged with a possessive desperation that was unlike what she’d seen from him before. So confusing were the warring sensations inside of her as he spoke them into being.
Abby wanted to bite him when he said those words, and the strength of the feeling frightened her with its intensity. She wanted to bite him and leave an imprint of her mouth on his skin. Where, she did not know. She wanted to tear into him with an unrecognizable drive that confused her.
Abby swallowed as the tip of his tongue touched his lower lip in that way of his.
“Let me be the only one you touch this way.”
She thought of his face wet against the crook of her neck, her fingers stroking through his hair, the curls she’d cut gathered at their feet. She thought of the way she rested her head on his shoulder, and he promised she would never go away, that he would keep her safe as she lit mourning candles in the wake of the fire.
“You’re mine, Abby,” he repeated into existence. “You’re my betrothed and you fawn all over that Vance welp one moment, and tell me you care for me the next. What is it to be?”
“I was being polite!” She only half-lied.
“You did it to make me jealous!”
“And? How do you think I feel when you show up this morning smelling like a brothel and still half drunk? How do you think I feel seeing you dance with Lady Cassandra, let alone ogling her so openly.” How desperately she wanted him to look at her that way. “If I’m so unequivocally yours, then why does it only go one way, you selfish, cruel man? Do I not get to call you mine?” Aegon drew back at her words and Abby did as well, gulping in air that didn’t taste of him. Enough distance created between them that Abby could not feel him. “I wish I could say how sorry I am to disabuse you and your mother of this notion that I am the Maiden. I’m not, and…” Her voice halted, and the flushed heat beneath her skin was suffocating and prickling, robbing her of words.
“And I’m full of vice as they come,” Aegon said as if finishing her sentence, his voice hollow and glimmering eyes that did not meet hers. “No amount of tender touch and soft words can change that.”
A fleeting twist of guilt coiled through her at his tone and she thought of Alicent Hightower’s insistence that she was meant to cure whatever was broken and wrong with Aegon. She was not the Maiden or some holy miracle, but neither was Aegon broken and irredeemable either.
“I suppose that makes us…that makes us ourselves then.” It felt strange to say, it felt strange to feel those words and to even hear them.
“Yes,” Aegon rasped. Abby’s eyes were hot, and Aegon’s were wet.
The moment stretched between them, a gulf rushing with water, soaking into her skirts and threatening to drag her under.
Abby took a deep breath as if preparing to dive into the Blackwater itself, to dive into the rush between them. Instead she turned, gathering her skirts in hand and walked away, forcing herself to look ahead to shore when half of her wanted to be pulled under with him.
The clash of steel on steel echoed through the training yard and Aegon spun his left sword, the right one connected and sliding against Harrion Karstark’s greatsword. Sweat dripped into Aegon’s eyes and Harrion himself was flush with exertion. Not even the gathered crowd around them nor the gaggle of ladies above could draw his attention.
They didn’t matter. He already had thrown up his breakfast after the first bout so whatever humiliation left for him was negligible.
Aegon sprang back and brought his dual swords down and across himself, trapping Harrion’s blade between them. He met the man’s eyes, and the northerner gave him a twitch of a grin and an approving nod of his head.
“Watch me. Ignore the distractions,” Harrion had said when Aegon stormed into the training yard half an hour earlier. Aemond was the one who took his anger out on the squires and Cole and whomever else unfortunate enough to get in his way. Normally, Aegon would have fled to Sunfyre and the sky above, but it would take too long to reach him and the space between Aegon’s ribs craved blood.
Preferably his own.
If he flew in that moment, Aegon could not promise he’d come back. Whatever that would look like.
Aegon wondered if Harrion’s blade had some strange northern magic that could carve the rot out of him that flame could not burn and cleanse away. Mayhaps he was more Hightower than Targaryen. Mayhaps that’s why he was like this.
Harrion’s swing knocked Aegon’s right blade from his grip, sending it skittering across the gravel. The larger man was on him, pressing Aegon back with great swings and the force of blocking him vibrated painfully in his arms.
"You are a million miles away, Your Grace," Harrion said, still circling him, his blue eyes discerning far more than Aegon appreciated. "That's how you end up with a blade through your shoulder. Trust me, I know."
Aegon ignored him, grinding his teeth.
"You could tell me what was bothering you, perhaps. At the least it would provide me with more of a challenge that… whatever it is we're doing now."
“We’re not talking about her,” Aegon grunted, swinging his blade out and moving around the larger man. “It. We’re not talking about it.”
“I’ve heard say that a good swordsman doesn’t let himself get distracted by such things, so that answers that.” Harrion’s mouth twitched up as he winked and Aegon felt a surge rumble through him. With a shout, he darted behind the training dummy and kicked it violently towards Harrion, buying himself enough time to go for his thrown blade.
“Begone!” Aegon commanded with thunderous force in his voice at the crowd, sending several bystanders stumbling back in surprise.
Aegon’s blades met Harrion’s with his teeth gritted and forced him back.
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Red hair? One breath away from dissolving into tears.” Aegon swore he saw judgement on Karstark’s face but the elder man simply rotated his greatsword in hand. “Don’t tell me you stepped on her feet while you were making a spectacle of yourselves.” He didn’t see the shoulder check coming and Aegon went stumbling back, nearly falling on his ass had he not come up against the weapons rack. “See? Better than a blade in the shoulder.”
A growl tore from Aegon’s throat and he swung his blades, causing the taller man to jump back out of the way. “You stick a blade in my shoulder, it’s treason.”
Harrion looked unsuitably unimpressed. If anything, Aegon swore he saw another twitch on his mouth and the greatsword was coming at him again, sliding along his left arm and leaving a white hot sting that had Aegon hissing and looking at the cut of his padded tunic and the bright slash of red along his bicep.
"Well," Harrion said with a shake of his head. "Shame. So what happened?"
Aegon looked incredulously from his arm to Harrion’s face, a weird sense of satisfaction emanating from the sharp sting of the slice on his arm. It lacked the brute force of a punch to the face and with the pain, he felt an unknotting sensation in his chest.
“I... don’t fucking know,” he said with feeling, swinging his left blade to meet Harrion’s with a clang. “I don’t fucking know what she wants from me when she never asked for anything different!”
The blades slid against each other, coming back again and again with the bright sound of steel clanging and Aegon wondered if Valyrian steel would sing differently in his hands.
“The thing about women is that they expect you to pay attention,” Harrion said, turning so Aegon’s swing missed and he turned the greatsword over his head and brought it down again in a move reminiscent of Harwin Strong and came down and would’ve taken Aegon’s head off had he not managed to black it in time. “You’re not great at that, are you?”
“How in the seven hells am I supposed to pay attention when she doesn’t fucking say anything!” he yelled, frustration tearing out of him with the force of dragon flame. “She’s always accepted me, she’s always been there for me, stood by me, she knows who the fuck I am and never said or asked for me to change. And now she thinks that since we’re going to be married I’m not what? Going to flirt and fuck and drink and be whatever…” He was choking on spit and something tangy and metallic in his mouth. “Whatever the fuck is wrong with me.”
There was a slap of metal against his chest and he looked down at the flat of Harrion’s blade pressed against his chest. “You missed,” Aegon said, tilting his chin up with a long look. “Neck’s here.”
“You’re pathetic, Your Grace.”
Aegon blinked. “What did you just say?”
Harrion lowered his blade and drew it along the end of his tunic, not looking at him, completely unbothered that Aegon could have lost his temper again and swung his blades at him. “I said, you’re pathetic. What kind of man are you, what kind of prince of the realm are you? You’re to be married and become lord to one of the largest keeps in the realm, and yet here you stand, a soft bellied boy, fretting over the idea that the lady you’re engaged to might not like your behavior.”
There was a rushing in his ears and Aegon opened his mouth to retort, to snap that Harrion Karstark, heir to a little backwater hovel, couldn’t speak to him like that, just as his sister didn’t have a right to do so.
“She’s been twisting herself in nervous circles preparing for this outing,” Wylla had hissed at him, the most courteous smile on her face but her fists clenched at her sides like she was about to fight him herself. He had stood beside his horse, resolutely ignoring the confused hurt on Abby’s face when he’d directed her to the carriage before they headed out into the city to attend the guild festival all those weeks ago. “So you are going to stop being a petulant, mercurial child and act like you are the luckiest man in the seven kingdoms to have her waiting for you.”
“She said we were lucky to like one another,” he finally rasped out, his palms sweaty around the grips of his blades. “That it’s more than what most can say.”
“She’s right, you are lucky, and revelations abound for you, Your Grace, because you’re so lucky and you do like one another, she expects you to afford, oh, I don’t know what it’s called, mayhaps respect?” Harrion’s gaze had lost the amusement and was now flat and cold as ice. “That girl is a prize that you’ve been given. I’ve seen that in the short time I’ve known her. And it seems you can’t grow up and be the man that she deserves. How would you feel if she went and fucked one of those other lords fawning over her, and then said ‘well, you didn’t ask me to change’.”
It must have been the hangover. Aegon was sure of it. The longer he stared at Harrion Karstark, the more he swore he saw Harwin Strong standing there, speaking conversationally to him after catching Aegon hacking one of the training dummies to death with his new blade.
He blinked again and it was Harrion once more, far closer now than he’d been on the other side of the training ring. Aegon hated how much taller the man was, how small he felt beneath his cold, stormy eyed gaze. Harrion gripped his shoulder in his large hand and Aegon swayed beneath it.
This would normally have been the point where his mother would snarl at him, “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?”, but Harrion? He said nothing except look down at him, waiting.
"I'm marrying a woman I've never laid eyes on when I head back north. Never met her, never heard the sound of her voice. I've written to her, tried to learn what I could of her through her own words. You though? You should probably pull your head out of the dragon shit and stop treating your situation as I would wager you treat everything else." He paused, then added, “Your Grace.”
“It’s growing late, my prince,” Erryk said with a disapproving look that Aegon didn’t give two shits about as he rubbed his hand over Kostōba’s golden cream neck, scratching his fingers along the line of his mane. “Are you sure you want to go out now?”
“Cargyll, when have I ever decided against going out this late?” It wasn’t as if it was late. The sun was a molten line on the horizon, the stars beginning to show along the eastern horizon. Night was better for him.
How ironic that he rode the sun. How ironic that the one he…
His thoughts were interrupted by another horse whickering, a dappled grey stallion with a braided white mane. Helaena sat astride him, her silver hair braided back, her riding leathers blue scaled leather with silver edging. Arryk Cargyll was coming up on his own horse, his Kingsguard armor gleaming in the evening light.
“Well, come on then. Aren’t we going flying?” she asked, eyes languid, voice expectant.
“No!” Aegon started, glaring at Arryk who was allowing his sister to think she could just ride out. “It’s not safe for you out there this late.”
“Oh, but it is for you when you avoid Ser Erryk every night?”
“Ser Erryk doesn’t make for good fucking company,” Aegon snapped. “Go back inside, Helaena.”
Helaena looked at him and then softly commanded her stallion to head out towards the gate. Kostōba snorted and whinnied softly, pawing at the ground and bumped his head into Aegon’s shoulder. He pet the horse’s neck gently, murmuring soft words to him before he gripped the saddle and hauled himself up. “Fine. Come on. If you’re lucky, you won’t even have to wait for us.”
They just wouldn’t come back. Maybe he’d talk Helaena into it.
The ride through the city was mercifully uneventful. Aegon kept beside his sister, glaring down at any lurking in the shadows that might come towards her. Helaena didn’t seem bothered by it, smiling at those who waved, their cries of ‘Princess Helaena!’ endearing in a way Aegon would not admit he was jealous of. He could see the tension in her shoulders at being noticed, and the way they relaxed once they went through the outer gates of the dragon pit.
Sunfyre was already out, chirping and chortling in his concerned way where he kept dipping his head trying to get closer, ruffled and annoyed at the dragonkeepers who kept him from rushing forward.
Aegon and Sunfyre set off first, and he looked down below as Dreamfyre’s great, blue bulk was led out into the yard. She was at least twice the size of Sunfyre, all pale blue scales and silver markings that twinkled like starlight. They circled languidly, and Aegon felt the chill of the air caress his cheeks and leech the heat from him, and for a moment, he swore he could feel Abby’s fingers cool across his brow, asking him if he was alright.
To watch Dreamfyre launch herself into the sky was a sight to behold. She wasn’t whip fast the way Sunfyre was, she didn’t lumber like Vhaegar. She took off, smooth as silk, flowing through the air like a fish swam through the sea. Her wings were great things, pale blue membranes veined with more of the silver markings that covered her great form. Aegon would never admit it, but Dreamfyre might have been more beautiful than Sunfyre when she took off into the twilight gleam, melting into the streaks of the swiftly darkening sky.
Helaena’s laughter echoed across King’s Landing, louder and brighter, Aegon swore, than the bells of the city itself. There was no need to give command to Sunfyre. He looked towards the south and Sunfyre let out his low call and took off, racing ahead towards the looming dark of the Kingswood.
Riding with Sunfyre was like flying through the sky himself. He leaned over the horn of the saddle, gloved hands outreached to press against his neck and together they moved, one being and one thought. No command passed Aegon’s lips. He simply felt his desire to run, to fly and flee until they could outrun all that plagued him. Away from old River Lords, and the storms of the North embodied in wolves with blades and teeth, away from the brokenhearted look in a pair of eyes as blue and endless as the ocean.
It wasn’t long before the pair of them circled the cliffs at the edge of the Kingswood, Sunfyre fluttering down as light as a leaf on a pond. Dreamfyre landed not long after and Helaena waited for him, perched like a little blue beetle on the rocks and looking out over the great gorge.
His sister watched him in her inscrutable way and Aegon stood some distance from her, unsure if he wanted to go to her, for he didn’t know what it was he wanted. Aegon’s gaze drifted over his shoulder to the cliff edge, the breeze tugging his hair across his face. He could simply just-
“Aegon.”
Lilac eyes snapped back to look at his sister and he kicked his foot against the ground, pawing at it like his horse before he came over and settled beside her. She said nothing, only reached over to take his left hand in both of hers to hold in her lap. His shoulders sagged beneath the leather of his jacket, his fingers twitching in hers.
“Sunfyre would be upset if you did,” she said and Aegon rolled his eyes.
“Sunfyre would get over it.”
“You’ve always been a terrible liar.” Helaena’s voice remained soft and calm and he scoffed lightly, a half hearted smirk playing on his face.
“I’m quite a good liar. You should play me at cards.” Levity amidst the depths that he was sinking in. Water and dirt or fire and blood flooding his mouth and ears and weeds and rock weighing him down.
The sounds of the forest were alive around them, the gentle song of crickets, the distant rustles of night time animals coming out of their daytime slumber. Aegon fiddled with a stone and chucked it out over the cliff edge and imagined it spinning out into the night sky to knock one of the lofty stars from their perch. Would Abby want him if he brought her back a fallen star?
“I told Aemond I wasn’t going to marry him.”
Aegon raised his eyebrows at her. “Huh.” An elegant response but there was a headache pulsing behind his eyes and he was at a loss for anything substantial. “How long has… how long have you been sitting on that revelation?”
A soft shrug, her fingers sliding across the rock towards a little lizard that had previously been sunning itself. “Some days I thought I could. Some days I wanted to marry him. I liked the way he looked at me, kissed me, desired me. Other times, I missed him. Who he was before Vhaegar.”
“Who he was before those bastards attacked him,” Aegon snarled, tossing another rock over the edge of the cliff. Helaena’s hand still held his and she squeezed his fingers, a gesture he instinctively returned back. His stomach lurched with nausea thinking about Ser Harrold carrying his bleeding, screaming brother into the throne room of Driftmark. They held his mouth open to pour milk of the poppy down his gullet to ease the pain.
‘Where was Ser Criston’, Aegon remembered thinking. Where had the guards been to find that Aemond had never gone to bed? Where had the guards been to see a loud, squabbling bunch of children on their way to what? Dragons couldn’t be stolen. Jace and Baela knew that, should have known that.
“We should have been better,” Helaena whispered and Aegon looked over at her. She was watching the little lizard crawl over her hand, the thing curling beneath her sleeve with the little head poking out as it sought out her warmth. “You should not have teased him so.”
A hot flush of shame and anger washed through him and he jerked his hand out of his sister’s hold. “Īlon kydȳbagon. Beqes? Iā valonqār īlvrot idīnnoso pirtrirzi zoklākore?.” Let us measure. A pig? Or falsely enticing our brother with marriage?
“Se qringaomnot dijāvē qrimbughere, marta issa?” Helaena countered. And is that the same as drowning in your vice and lust? The words clawed at the meat of him. Her eyes bore into him as hot as dragonfire and Aegon pushed away from the rocks and scuffed his feet in the dirt, putting distance between them so she could not see him so easily, perceiving his rot and ruin.
“She didn’t even care, so why should he?” Aegon snarled. Rhaenyra hadn’t cared about her brother, her blood, just an insult as if the whole fight had been Aemond calling them bastards, not the whole of them attacking Aemond and he needing to defend himself.
“Would you like to go riding?” his sister asked him softly, a gentle smile on her face. Her belly was starting to round with her own child, and mother was in her room, pacing with her own child to come. Aegon clutched his dragon to his chest, looking up at her uncertainty. He wasn’t meant to be alone with Rhaera, his little mouth struggling with the syllables of her name. The idea of riding up in the sky, on a real dragon rather than a toy in the nursery, excited him and he nodded, reaching and taking her hand and giggling with surprise when she scooped him up, the way mama said he was too big for.
“She didn’t even care,” Aegon repeated, his harsh voice a rasp in his throat, betrayal and hurt that he hadn’t felt in some time coursing through him.
The cliff edge was so utterly appealing.
“Dragons of flesh weave dragons of thread,” Helaena’s voice drifted softly on the evening breeze. He chewed on his lip and looked over his shoulder back at her. She was fixated on the lizard along her hand and lowered it, allowing the little thing to flee into the cracks among the rocks.
Aegon pushed the hair out of his eyes and turned then. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” It was simple, matter of fact, and she palmed her knees, the leather creaking with the movement. “He’s not, but…” Aegon was quiet, ignoring the call of the void, and focused on the way his sister’s hair gleamed in the fading light. In another life, they would be married, in the way their Valyrian blood demanded and every day, Aegon was grateful that they had both escaped the fate. He loved his sister, but couldn’t imagine doing what would have been required. He couldn’t imagine touching her, instinctively recoiling at the thought. Helaena was beautiful, Aegon would readily agree on that. Buxom and beautiful, with eyes that could stare into your soul and a smile that was warm as firelight.
“But?” he asked when her gaze grew distant. She shook her head.
“I think he felt as confused as I did. But you know Aemond. Once he has his mind set on something…” She tucked a loose strand of hair back from her face and drew her legs up to rest her feet against the rocks. “I told Mother. I suppose this means Aemond will go to Storm’s End.”
The sight of Cassandra’s mouth on his cock flashed across his vision and he thought of what that woman would do if she got her hands on his brother. Aemond was intimidating, Aegon was loath to admit it unless it was to his advantage, and women either were drawn to it or repelled. But he was still a green boy, inexperienced despite Aegon’s attempts to get him with the best the Street of Silk had to offer. Cassandra could very well tear him apart if Aemond wasn’t careful.
“Well he can have his pick out of the four, although I think that little hyperactive deer would be the best choice.” It would be several years until the child would be old enough to wed, which might appeal to his disinterested brother.
“Floris is going to fell a stag next Storm Festival. She shot a bullseye and everything.” Helaena’s tone was fond and lighter than it had been before. “I’ve claimed her, by the way. You’ll be taking Cassandra Baratheon with you. Hope her tits fit in the carriage.”
Aegon snorted, laughter bursting from him in surprise. “My my, hāedus, are you jealous of her fantastic tits. If you need reassurance, you do have some of the better breasts I’ve only passively looked over.”
“You called her tits fantastic, and mine ‘some of the better’,” Helaena said airily, and Aegon let out another snort of laughter. “It’s fine. I’ll forgive you. You have been a bit messier than usual. Ever since the feast.”
His laughter trailed off, and while his sister had elevated his mood, it wasn’t enough to erase away the tangle of vines that had woven their way through his ribs, constricting like the venomous snakes of Yi Ti. “Mmmm, have you been sending your many creatures to spy on me?”
“No,” Helaena replied. “But I spent the whole night comforting a hysterical Abrogail Strong in my chambers afterwards. I’ve never seen her cry so hard, let alone cry in general. Dear girl doesn’t like to show that side of herself.” She shook her head. “Not to mention you looked like Mother had forbidden you from riding Sunfyre before the feast started and I heard Ser Erryk talking about pulling you from a brothel and dragging you back to the keep slung over the ass of his horse.
“Well, when you put it that way.” Aegon shook his head and kicked at a stone, sending it dancing across the ground. He felt sick to his stomach at the idea that he’d sent Abby into hysterics after the feast, and there was little convincing himself that it was everything else that had upset her, when she had upset him so much.
When it was more than just her that had upset him, and he’d taken it out on her.
“She wants to geld you. Well, no. She said were her dearest departed brother still alive, he’d gift her your balls on a platter.”
“Oh, no, she threatened to geld me herself this morning.” Helaena giggled and Aegon flushed. “I showed up to break our fast hungover and smelling of perfume. That was embarrassing for her. Apparently.”
“I would be embarrassed if my betrothed showed up to eat with kin smelling of other women.” Helaena’s voice was in that easy way of hers, no judgement and matter of fact. When he met her eyes though, they flashed in the dark, a fire burning in her lavender gaze. “Aegon, you’re an idiot.”
“Thank you,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You’ll be pleased to know this isn’t the first time today I’ve been called as such. Lucky for me, you don’t have a sword.”
“Yes, but I do have a dragon.” As if on cue, Dreamfyre rumbled from where she was sitting nearby, an antler hooked on her mouth from her meal she’d just finished. Aegon made a face. “Harrion Karstark is handsome though. I wouldn’t mind it if-”
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Aegon cut in sharply. “Besides, he’s rather devout to the bride he hasn’t met yet. Riverlands girl.”
“Right. Riverlands girl. Not dissimilar to your own, I’d wager.”
“And what, pray tell, are you getting at? If you wish to lecture me, then do so.”
“I don’t need to lecture you, Aegon, but I do have a question.” Aegon gave her a blank look, stealing himself for whatever it was that Helaena was about to throw in his face. “Why do you think Abby hasn’t come asking to have the betrothal broken after all of this?” He opened his mouth, and shut it with a click, a shake of his head. “You’re an idiot,” she repeated.
“She’s nice! She does whatever Mother fucking tells her to do. She’s such a proud little member of her household, doing everything she can to fucking be her.” Helaena made a little face in response, but didn’t argue and Aegon tugged at the clasps on his riding jacket, shrugging out of the leather and letting the breeze cool his too hot skin.
“Do you like it when she’s like Mother?” Helaena asked curiously and Aegon flushed.
“I like it when she’s bossy. Not my fault it sounds like-” He snapped his mouth shut as his sister let out an indelicate snort, snickering from her spot. “Bratsios,” he swore at her, which only caused Helaena to let out another snort. “Fine! Fine I’m a fucking idiot. Happy?” He threw out his arms and gave a little spin for dramatic effect. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, She went into this whole thing about why the tables only go one way, and that at the end of the day, we’re just ourselves and she walked away and I think she wants to break this whole thing off-”
“She’s not,” Helaena cut in with another soft chuckle and leaned back against the rocks, tilting her head back to gaze up at the sky. “And she may sound like Mother sometimes, but she’s not. She’s not Mother.”
“She’s not the Maiden,” Aegon finished, the memory of Abby’s eyes, large and wet and flashing with anger and hurt seared on the back of his own eyelids. “She’s not… She’s just… Abby.” He felt his shoulders droop, the tension that had knotted through him for the past few days released, albeit slowly. “She’s just Abby with her needlework and her cat and her drawings and all her books.” He felt his mouth twitch. “She had a whole presentation this morning, did she tell you? I’ve never seen her handle so many scrolls, going in about all the changes she wants to make to Harrenhal for the people and she had pages of sums and she was talking about fucking trade agreements with some house and her whole face was lit up and she was talking too fast and I swear I thought she’d faint from forgetting to breathe.”
He looked down at his hands and from beneath the edge of his cuff, three half healed lines from where she’d scratched him bloody were still visible. Aegon instinctively brought his wrist to his mouth, sucking on the healing skin that still held the faint tang of copper. “When she lets herself, she’s full of fire and passion. She’s biting and vicious.” His hunītsos so sweet and soft but teeth that would bite when a hand threatened. “What did I do that made her so angry with me to begin with?”
His sister shrugged. “Maybe you should ask her before it’s too late.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was sharp and focused on Helaena’s impenetrable gaze. “Helaena.”
“She was rather pleased on a walk with Ser Edmund the other day in the garden,” his sister finally said. “She’d left the picnic and ran into him. They were quite close together when Floris and I found them, all blushing and shy.”
Aegon’s stomach plummeted and his hands tingled, cold dread and hot fury rushing through him. Whatever look was on his face had his sister jumping up and closing the distance to grab at his arms.
Sunfyre growled nearby, Dreamfyre answering with a short, sharp huff of annoyance.
“You’re an idiot, but do you understand why she hasn’t gone to break this off yet? Because she cares for you. You’ve been pulling her away from the rest of us for years. Mittys iksā, Aegon.” You are a fool. He tried to jerk his arms from her, but Helaena held fast to him. “You are, and I resent you for it often. Aemond resents you for it, hoarding her as you try to do, but what you don’t see, lēkȳs, is that she allows you to do it. Had she not wanted you in return, Abby would not allow you to get away with it as you do.”
Had she not wanted him in return.
‘I never wanted you.’
Abby had never spoken those words though. Even the memory of it in his head didn’t sound like her. It sounded suspiciously like his mother, like his excuse for a sire, even Cole but… but never Abby.
In his grandfather’s office, Abby’s hand had been trembling in her lap before she reached for him, the smile tremulous and panic in her eyes. Not fear. Not disgust. She had reached for him, and he had reached for her when the world felt like it was breaking apart beneath their feet.
“And yet she flirts with that pompous cunt,” Aegon snarled and Sunfyre responded in kind with another growl that had Dreamfyre reaching out a clawed foot to push at his snout.
“So what? You flirt all the time and don’t you dare say it’s any different. The only difference that lays between you two is that you often go to paw and prod and fuck those you flirt with. She doesn’t.”
The idea of Abby doing more with one of her rare flirtations had the coil of anger firing inside of him once more as he thought of what he’d done with Cassandra Baratheon, with Marla Lefford after the feast.
“And? How do you think I feel when you show up this morning smelling like a brothel and still half drunk? How do you think I feel seeing you dance with Lady Cassandra, let alone ogling her so openly? If I’m so unequivocally yours, then why does it only go one way, you selfish, cruel boy?”
Protests died on Aegon’s tongue and he staggered back, feeling sick and dizzy, feeling angry and brokenhearted. Confused and uncertain, and yet entirely certain all at the same time. Helaena’s hands drifted back but she didn’t move away from him, didn’t tear at him, and certainly didn’t take advantage of the moment to push him over the cliff’s edge.
“I tried to be good for her,” he rasped.
“Did you truly? Or were you simply doing what it is you always do, and thinking it would work this time?” Helaena asked.
Aegon gave her a wary look. “When did you become such an insightful one, heltusītsos?” It had been years since he’d called her little beetle, the nickname coined by Aemond. Helaena startled at the words, her head ducking down and averting her gaze.
“You all try to baby me and I’m sick of it,” Helaena muttered, pushing him without any real force behind it. The wind kicked up, whipping at her moonlit braid and tugging tendrils of hair across her round features. Sometimes it was like staring into a mirror, the pair of them with the same round features and their mother’s large eyes. “So I’m endeavoring to speak my mind and tell you how I feel and when I think you’re all being foolish, which is quite often, you know.”
Jealousy and anger continued to roil in the pit of Aegon’s gut in the silence that followed his sister’s declaration. The idea of another man’s hands on Abby, his fingers in her hair, on her skin, of someone else making her laugh - that was Aegon’s laughter that was stolen. He always did what he could to make her laugh, to draw the bright sound from her so she would forget how sad she was, how lonely. How she giggled in his arms when she kissed him, when he kissed her. Her shrieks of laughter when he’d defend her in children’s games, their hands grabbing each other as he tugged her to the safety of his camp away from Jacaerys and Lucerys in the gardens and in the woods.
The soft sound of pain when he grabbed her cut through the memory. ‘Had she learned to quiet them as he had?’
Her eyes, so endlessly blue as the ocean itself, shining with tears that he’d caused.
Aegon just wanted to make her laugh and smile, instead of shutting down as she had after her father and Harwin’s death, when it looked as if she would simply blow away as dust. The memory of a small girl, eyes perpetually red and cheeks chapped with endless, silent tears looking so small in the sept before the Stranger. The way she’d looked at him when he approached and how her hands had fisted into his sleeves and she sobbed into his shoulder.
He remembered telling her the story of Ser Harwin slipping in the mud when they were in the stables and swearing Aegon to silence with a laugh. He told her of the time Mother had lost her wits at a giant Dornish spider getting loose in the cloisters and how Lord Lyonel had come, speaking calmly and rattling off all these interesting facts about it with a box in hand and how Mother lost her mind to just kill the cursed thing!
‘I could never hate you, Aegon.’
Did she truly mean it?
“What if I’ve just fucked it up beyond repair? What if we’re just doomed to be fucking miserable?” Aegon’s voice was small, his eyes wide and frightened in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he was young and the first time the Tower had kicked him and nearly crashed his head in, lashing him with such cruel words that had Aegon stunned and spinning.
Helaena shrugged. “What if you haven’t?”
Hope unfurled, a frightened animal in his chest that wasn’t sure if it was safe, long boxed away and his breath hitched, an uncertain smile crossing his face.
Jace leaned against the carved stone of the shallow balcony outside his room. The sun had set and the moon was rising, the deepening blue of the sky beginning to glitter and twinkle with so many stars.
His thumb rubbed over the ridges of the long dead little sea creature embedded in the stone he held, lavender eyes hooded in thought. His room felt bare this night, his belongings loaded into trunks and taken down to the ship earlier in the day. Shelves that had been bursting with books and maps, with trinkets and baubles now gone and packed carefully away. Jace suspected that Luke had made off with some of the more coveted items he’d been sneaking off with, like the history of the Vale of Arryn that he’d been particularly interested in as of late.
A knock on the door drew his attention and for a moment, Jace thought about not answering, pretending he was tucked in bed and fast asleep. The heavy door creaked open and he let out an exasperated sigh. “Mother-”
“I know, you’d like me to wait before barging in,” his mother said. She was dressed for an evening of relaxation - a loose, scarlet robe with woven and knotted clasps over her nightgown, her hair braided back from her face and slung over her shoulder. The Princess rubbed her hands together and her gaze flitted over the bare spots across the room. “Well, you are six and ten. The gods know there are things I do not want to walk in on.”
Jace felt his cheeks flush, a sputter escaping him. “Muñus-” He would not think about the last time that had nearly happened, rolling off the side of the bed and being convinced he’d broken… things.
“I know.” She looked beautiful in the candlelight, her pale skin flushed golden in the flickering candlelight around his room. “Indulge me, zēapos. I only have a few hours left to tease you.” She stood beside him, gazing out at the Narrow Sea. Her warm hand reached up to stroke through his hair, dark brown curls wild and tugging free along his face and shoulders. Jace was struck by how strange it was to finally be taller than his mother, who loomed large over him for as long as he could remember, a beacon of home and warmth. He slung his arm around her shoulder and ducked his head at the kiss she pressed against his cheek.
The Valyrian flowed from him as it did his mother. Since he began his lessons in earnest, most conversations took place in their ancestral tongue. “I promise to keep Baela out of trouble.” His sister was coming with him, having raged for near a fortnight at being sent away when she had only just returned from Driftmark with Rhaena. Daemon had raged back, their voices echoing off the stone of the citadel whenever they were in the same room until Luke had declared he was moving into the caves with Arrax until they stopped.
His mother chuckled. “Oh, neither of us will hold you to that. Baela is like her parents, clever and wily. But you two will have one another to rely on, as well as your grandfather. You are second in line for the throne, ñuhus trēsys.” Jace turned and she took his face in her hands, tilting his head down to rest his forehead against hers. “No matter what anyone says, or insinuates, you are my son, my heir. You will sit the Iron Throne, you are not just a prince of the realm, se dārilaros iksan.”
“Nyke dārilaros iksan,” he repeated.
I am the prince.
Her smile was gentle and soft, her eyes crinkling at the corners and she pushed up on her toes to press a kiss between his brows. “I’m so proud of you for doing this. Do not let them forget that you are a dragon. You ride Vermax, and only a dragon can bond with a dragon.”
“I miss him,” Jace whispered before he could draw the words back. His mother’s hands trembled against his face. As he knew she would, she drew back and her hands dropped to his shoulders, smoothing his loose shirt.
“Laenor was a good man and he would be proud of you.” There was honesty in her words, but Jace could not say that Laenor wasn’t who he had meant. It had been another man, who had been unwavering by his mother’s side, who had been there for everything, that Jace referred to.
But that was treason and not even he could speak it.
Jace sucked it up and he gave a short nod. “He would.” His father had been good to him and his brothers, even if he wasn’t always there, often with Ser Qarl and other men at Driftmark. He was never cruel, always kind and encouraging upon his visits, even with the distance between them that never felt lonely, not with his mother there, not with Ser Harwin.
How lucky he was, to be loved as he was. To have so many who cared for him.
How frightening it was, to go to a place that had once been his home, and now full of those who loathed him.
Jace rubbed his thumb against the stone he held and he watched his mother’s hand join his. “What’s this?”
“I found it a few days ago, when Vermax and I went to the other side of the island.” The curled seashell had long turned to rock, broken in half over time so the inside ridges were visible. “Don’t know what it is. It just…” Another shrug. “Called to me, I suppose.”
“It must mean good fortune on your journey, then,” his mother said and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Now, my brooding boy, get some rest. You have a long journey ahead of you, and your men will be looking to you to not be half asleep slumped over a pile of rope.”
Right. He needed to be alert and present. He needed to be seen, he needed to participate, and work side by side with the sailors on their journey. Prove himself to be one of them. Prove himself more than the rumors that chased them from King’s Landing. Rumors that flashed bright as dragonfire in his step-grandmother’s gaze in the flickering great hall of Driftmark.
[Chapter Twelve]
#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#my fics
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Any warm and cozy recipe ideas for a satyr-kin? Or maybe self-care, or masc/dark outfit ideas that come in bigger sizes? Sorry if this is a bit different ^^'
Dont be sorry, I got you!!
So for the fashion I tried to include stuff that was modern/casual that you could wear without drawing too much attention to yourself. I also included some more obviously fantasy-styled clothing if that's your vibe too! I hope these inspire you. I think the puffy legged pants (aka "pirate pants" really give off the vibe and you could incorporate that into a lot of modern outfits!
Cozy Recipes For A Satyr:
Grilled Garlic Mushroom Skewers
Goat Cheese Stuffed Dates
Medieval Potage Stew
Charcuterie!
Herb Baked Eggs
If you love cooking I have to recommend any sort of fantasy/medieval cookbook. They're FILLED with cozy recipes that might scratch that itch for you. You can find a lot of free scans online but I recommend The Elder Scrolls Official Cookbook, Heroes' Feast (Official D&D cookbook), and Tasting History by Max Miller (this guy also has a YouTube channel by the same name where he uploads free tutorials and recipes!)
As For Selfcare:
Feasts!
I'm not sure about you specifically, but its said that satyrs are known to love the pleasures of the flesh. Feasts! Drinking! Be merry! If you can, take the time to have a meal with friends, family or a loved one and just chat it up and have a good time!
Indulge your senses
Surround yourself with things that appeal to your senses. Succulent fruits, vibrant colors in nature, wonderful music, etc.
Ritual Baths
Treat yourself to a bath infused with herbs, flowers and oils. Play some gentle music or ambient nature sounds. Maybe even light some candles!
Seek Adventure
It can be anything from visiting somewhere you've never visited in your local area, to taking a day off to take a hike! Nature spirits thrive on excitement and exploration
Feed your mind
Storytelling and learning. Dive into podcasts, books and mythology and expand your knowledge. Revel in the magic of storytelling!
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I hope you like these! I had a LOT of fun making this. Satyrs are so cool!
#satyrkin#satyr kin#otherkin#therian#therian fashion board#kin fashion#kin self care#therian self care#otherkin self care#therian recipes#otherkin recipes
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Hi I'm new to ur blog and I was wondering if I could have btas dork squad (aka Scarecrow, Riddler, and mad Hatter) with a s/o who has a special pocket watch that allows them to travel to different dimensions at different time periods? And the funny part of that every time they come back home their wearing new clothes from said time period and holding a gift basket full of their dorks favorite items or things s/o thinks they would like? Fem or gender neutral ❤❤
❤ anon
this is such a cool ask??? i have never written anything like this before so i am excited to challenge myself, but im also nervous to see how it turns out! i think ill do a fem reader since ive done gn for the past few asks (im assuming you want headcanons btw)
note: feel free to reblog! just give credit when necessary :)
(ps i ADORE reading tags, comments, reblogs 🥰)
BTAS! Dork Squad x TimeTraveler!Fem!Reader
Mad Hatter:
he is your number one fan! he thinks you and your fancy, time-traveling pocket watch are truly the bees knees. you constantly keep him in awe
begs you to take him with you :( if youre only able to travel by yourself then he waits patiently for you to get back
travel to the mid to late 1800's England! in the times of lewis carroll, victorian tea parties, fancy attire 😍
you reappear in his hideout, not wearing the clothes you left in, but a beautiful blue day dress with silky fabrics! his face is beet-red and surely there would be smoke coming from under his hat if it were possible!
not only are you dressed head to toe as a noble lady for a tea party for two, but you also brought him gifts?
oh be still his beating heart! when you thought it would be impossible for him to smile any wider, he did! bring him old books, (technically) new clothes, trinkets, hats and new tea sets!
no matter which time period you travel to, he sits you down and asks you a million questions and begs you to tell him everything!
stares at you in awe and wonder while holding your gloved hands as he hangs onto your every word
looks like this the whole time :O
Scarecrow:
BLACK DEATH BLACK DEATH BLACK DEATH >:)
do you really want to tickle the spooky mans fancy? travel anywhere from 1347-1351 in Europe.
he is fascinated by your pocket watch and demands to know how it works
as a demonstration, you disappear from his lab and suddenly reappear later wearing a red stitched gown that looks more like a long tunic. a white cloth veil covers your hair
he has his clipboard in hand
if he wasnt fully convinced of your time traveling device, you decide to bring him some gifts!
PLAGUE DOCTOR TOOLS!
in your little medieval basket you have a mask, blades, gloves and even a jar of leeches!
proposes that you join forces! he doesnt know how you could help him exactly but your little pocket watch is pretty nifty
he asks you to go to more time periods and bring him back things for his "experiements"
YES theyre for his experiments and totally not for self indulgent purposes >:(
Riddler:
future babeyyy
do you want to truly impress him? bring him back some pieces of tech that he can tinker with!
he doesnt believe you at first when you try to tell him about the pocket watch
once you disappear and reappear with goodies, now hes invested!
you show up wearing a green and black body suit in fabrics he has never seen before!
you bring back a phone that uses a 7G network system, newspapers with major events, a laptop with a 2 petabytes of storage that is no thicker than a half inch, books and movies that havent even been released yet and more!
he asks you VERY technical questions that you probaly dont have the answers to
have you met your past/future self? how does your watch work?isnt this going to destroy the space-time continuum? what if you die while traveling?
like scarecrow, he is probably going to make you go off and scavenge for things he would find useful
i am 100% confident that this riddler could reverse engineer just about anything. with your powers combined, nothing stands in your way
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Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love
tagged by @lullabyes22-blog. thank you uwww <3 here's some of my favorite art and fics:
The Art in the Heart - a self-insert x Young!Silco slow burn romance where Reader/my OC is another young Zaunite who wants a free and independent Undercity, but disagrees with Silco on how to achieve it. Their relationship develops slowly as they each try their own methods of improving life in Zaun. No spoilers on who's right ;) this is self-indulgent as hell because it's my deepest desire to be reincarnated/isekai'd into this fic as my OC *sobs*
A Knight to Remember - another Silco x Reader self-insert, Medieval AU where Silco is a knight. Slow burn king-and-lionheart type romance but no royalty because this story is on a smaller scale lol. Featuring some amazing art done by @designfailure56 that you can find here!
pilot!Silco that was a gift for Sulty lmaoooo, I just really liked how this one turned out.
clothing wrinkles and lighting are my weakness but this turned out pretty good!
yeah this piece of me my OC and Silco is one of my favorites ok *sobs in never being able to get with a fictional character*
tagging: @deny-the-issue @ink-and-dagger @silcoitus @ilikemymendarkandfictional @sweatandwoe @insult-2-injury @designfailure56 @muddiestpath @sherwood-forests
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Happy WBW, lovely! Not sure why, but today I'm asking about fashion?? What does the fashion-- I'm talking high, street, or anything else-- look like in your world(s)?
Happy WBW, Tori!
I answered something similar to this here, but I'll add a little more since I didn't talk about fashion overall.
To summarize, it's all over the place haha. Some of this is purely self-indulgent/anachronistic, but also because despite being a medieval-ish setting, this is also a setting where magic exists AND also one where there is a wide variety of cultures and people who live in varied climates with access to different native fibers and manufacturing techniques. Not to mention there are significantly different body shapes. That is, not everyone has proportions, sexually dimorphic traits, or limbs that fall into the usual humanoid shape, so naturally, their fashions would be different. And even amongst people of the same race, there is a huge variety in what they wear depending on where they live. However...
We can assume the following:
Humans: Garments are similar to what you might find in 17th-century European fashions for those that live in large cities or relatively populous areas. Stays, padding, shifts, petticoats, hoops, bonnets/caps, etc. Of course, the materials, colors, etc all vary by region, wealth, occupation, you get the idea. For those that live most remotely (countryside, small islands, etc), their clothes are homemade and focused on durability rather than on a fashionable shape (which the aforementioned is considered to be), so are more gender neutral. Trousers, durable shirts, cloaks, ponchos, and usually some kind of durable leather shoe (can be a sandal or boot depending on the climate), and head coverings are popular.
Lizardfolk: Each house has a style they prefer. House of War prefers styles similar to traditional Thai dress, the House of Law prefers styles similar to 17th-century Japanese garments, and the House of Dreams prefers styles similar to Mughal period Indian fashion. Their winter wear, when they have need of it, is heavily inspired by Mongolian fashion. Additionally, corsets are favored by women of the Holtep Empire. These are not the undergarments you might imagine for people, nor are they worn all the time, usually only for special occasions and usually only by the nobility. They are worn with special robes that expose the midriff and are made of steel. They are more like armor than anything else, and unlike human corsets are meant solely for aesthetic purposes; they don't support breasts (bc they don't have any) and are intended to emphasize how small a woman's waist is. It is the most desired of traits in the Empire.
Dwarves: Heavily inspired by a variety Native American dress. I am still fleshing this out a bit, but their clothing is focused on durability, ease of movement, bright colors, and heavy decorative elements.
Elves: Probably the widest variety because of how scattered their kingdom is. They are known to borrow elements of the fashions listed above. However, their 'base' is most similar to ancient Mayan and Aztec fashion.
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The Dawn of the New Ackerman
Summary: Countess Dina Yeager neé Fritz married Duke Kevan Ackerman and it might not be the worst thing ever.
Chapter: 1/5
Tags: Pseudo-Incest, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Found Family, Possessive Behavior, Eventual Explicit Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, no beta we die like Kuchel, this is what happens when you write with Goblet of Fire playing on loop, this is off the mark tbh, my self indulgent saccharine concoction
A/N: This fanfic is inspired by Tywin Lannister/Joanna Lannister from Game Of Thrones and Patrick Zala/Lenore Zala from Mobile Suit: Gundam SEED.
Note: Italics are either inner thoughts or dream sequences.
***
Eren Yeager reeks of death as he blankly stares at the two caskets before him. Hollowed out cheeks, chapped lips, purple-reddish under the eye as if he hasn't slept or eaten in many moons. His gaunt figure was stuffed in all ill-fitted black garb. He looks like life has been sucked out of him. The only thing indicating that he was still alive is his dull green eyes, shining in the sea of black clothes and white flowers. But even his only sign of life contained something unbecoming of a nine-year-old boy.
The way everyone looked at the two remaining Yeagers is astonishing. One with compassion and the other with rejection and derision. After all, it was widely known that it was only because of Countess Dina's grace that Eren was even allowed to attend his father and older half-brother's funeral.
The funeral attendees all sympathized with Countess Yeager, her kindness and pitiful state were well spread.
"How could such misfortune befell the Countess?" Their eyes roam to Eren when talking about the Countess.
"Truly a devil's child." is what they called Eren. His face remained blank despite being at a funeral for his family members who raised and loved him despite his questionable birth.
"I am telling you, this is proof that it's the goddess's will to drown bastards instead of raising those ingrates."
Eren tries to think of any love shown by both Zeke and Grisha but his mind comes blank. Does Zeke calling him a little brother in private only to treat him badly when they are in front of their father count? Does Grisha stopping Zeke from beating him bloody count? He couldn't think of any good memory… but he still felt heartless all the same because he couldn't muster even a single tear for the last of his blood.
Eren wonders if they knew that he could hear what they're saying. I suppose that was the point, isn't it? he thought.
Oddly enough, despite having a disturbing amount of rage running through his veins, he couldn't muster the energy to even feel annoyed. He just felt empty inside.
Before someone dies, it was said that everything would go really slow and you'll be granted a moment of complete clarity before passing.
That clarity came for Eren when he thought how pointless it is to get angry at them as they are only being true to their nature, cruel and oppressive to the people they think are below them. Eren knew early on that all nobles have a brand of cruelty in them. It was their birthright he learned. So imagine Eren's surprise when his stepmother Dina, still didn't kick him out on the streets or leave him out to fend for himself months after the mourning period.
When he thought hard enough, Dina's angel-like image around the circle flashed through Eren's mind, and was once again blown away just how appearances and their reputation are everything to these nobles.
When Grisha and Zeke died, Dina followed the will to the tee, the instruction for her to take care of Eren till he's of age and let him manage the Yeager estate. Manage what exactly? Eren thought. Their gold mines dried up a long time ago, Dina doesn't know the first thing about business and even though women can now do business to some extent, they still aren't exactly advertised to do so. The logical thing for her to do to maintain her lifestyle is to remarry and so she did.
Dina instructed him to pack his things because they are now going to live in the Ackerman mansion since she and Duke Kevan Ackerman are going to get married.
The Ackerman estate was so big that it even had a forest with a stream running through it. Eren was blown away and he felt more nervous than he wanted to because he knows for a fact that even among all the noble ranks, the only one above the Ackerman ducal house would be the Reiss Royal family of The New Eldian Empire.
"Be sure to get along with your new father and older sister, okay?" Eren continued to observe his surroundings and nodded without looking at Dina. If the Countess felt annoyed with him, she didn't say anything as she continued to tell him all that he needed to know about the Ackermans. He listened intently even though he acted as if he didn't.
Eren knew it wasn't good manners to give nonverbal replies to direct questions but he didn't care. He hasn't spoken since the funeral, he hasn't spoken much anyway even before.
As Eren continued to listen about the great Ackerman Dukedom, he thought that they must be even more arrogant and nasty than the other nobles. Eren inwardly shudders as a montage of the worst-case scenario plays inside his head. After all, he's just a powerless kid who can't even protect himself so if keeping his head down and taking the beating gives him a fighting chance, he'll take it. He knows he doesn't have many options if he wants to rise to the top and be able to live as he wants.
"My name is Dina Fritz." Her smile was as bright as the sunflowers that decorates the bonnet that she was wearing. It makes Eren inwardly gag at the saccharine fakeness of it all.
When his father and older brother were still alive, life wasn't perfect but there was a sense of realness where they didn't have to pretend in front of each other. They knew for a fact that Grisha was a nutjob who constantly pressured and pitied his heir, Zeke against his much younger illegitimate child, Eren.
Zeke Yeager, despite having the softest heart in the Yeager family surprises everyone with his brutal but effective mindset; maybe it was because of his softness that he still wanted his father's approval even after everything.
Dina Yeager just sits there and turns a blind eye to Grisha's mistreatment of Zeke. Truth be told, Eren hated Dina more than Grisha. Because in his mind, the one who neglects and turns a blind eye to the abuse is worse than the abuser. If Dina gets a sadistic satisfaction of his perils at the hands of his father, he'll hate it but ultimately understand. After all, Eren was not her son. Nobody loves or ever loved him, nobody cares about him except maybe Zeke to some extent... whatever that was left of him that wasn't set on getting their father's approval.
"This is my son, Eren. He's younger than you so please take care of him."
Unlike Dina's fake smile and Kevan's polite smile, Mikasa Ackerman didn't smile nor made any effort to match anyone's energy of forced excitement. She looked different than what Eren expected, it wasn't just because of her mixed heritage, she was only fourteen but she's the very picture of beauty, grace, and composure. She's wearing a simple light gray dress with her silky dark tresses falling on her back. You can tell with the way she carries herself, how effortless it is for her. It was something she was born with.
Mikasa solemnly bowed to her new family members to show respect. Eren found that more reassuring than any smiles anyone could offer him at the moment.
***
Contrary to his grim expectations, things weren't so bad. Kevan is away on business a lot and Dina always comes with him. Eren and Mikasa are left alone most of the time as their parents were never home.
Even if Eren's new life wasn't the hell that he expected, he still felt anxious. His demons still come and go as it pleases, it visits him like an old friend who couldn't take the hint that he's finally outgrown them. He retreated in silence because he doesn't want to speak of what happened to his late father and brother. It's not like anyone would ever ask him. It was swept under the rug like all things. Even in private he doesn't like thinking about it because it's like he's breathing life back into them but it didn't matter because even beyond the grave they still haunt him.
Eren still gets nightmares about their deaths. He reminds himself that he could have ended up like his birth mother who is six feet under the ground, buried in a nameless grave, forgotten. But he didn't. He's alive.
He walks in on them in the forest.
Grisha is standing not far from Zeke who is slumped on the ground. His father was immediately on to him when he took a step back. "It didn't work on your brother, Eren." There's a crazed look in his eyes that has him backing away even further.
"I've always known that he was weak. But not you…" by the time he held out a sharp contraction on his hands, Eren was sprinting away.
"Give me your arm, Eren!" Grisha was chasing him.
"You've gone crazy!"
"I'm not crazy! Don't you ever say that!"
Eren knows that it's a dream but he cannot snap out of it. His legs felt heavy and it was like he was breathing underwater.
Everything plays the same way as it does. Eren fights but they are still dead and everything is closing in on him.
He's losing either way. Why must he be forced to relive this?
"–Ren" It was a firm but gentle voice.
"Eren"
When Eren's bloodshot eyes snapped open, he was screaming and swinging his fists at some invisible enemy. Mikasa was hovering over him to snap him out of it.
"Eren, wake up." Some of it landed on her arms but she ignored the pain to engulf Eren in an embrace to stop him from potentially hurting himself.
"It's Mikasa" Eren eventually stopped screaming and flailing his arms. His body went limp as Mikasa cradles him because even though it's not unwelcome, its warmth is unfamiliar to him. His head rested on her chest listening to her heartbeat. He was drenched with his sweat and is still breathing heavily but he has finally gotten back to his senses.
"It's a dream." Mikasa wipes a tear that fell out of Eren's right eye. Eren didn't even notice that he was crying because he was too busy trying to breathe.
When he gets nightmares in the past, a servant who would awaken from his screams would just shake him until he's awake and leave him to pick himself up alone. That was the norm for him, that's the only thing he has ever experienced. He didn't like anyone's presence anyway but Mikasa's steady heartbeat and scent calmed him down. Concentrating on the clear beats of her heart, he closed his eyes again.
When Mikasa felt Eren's heartbeat steadying she tried to get some water for him but Eren suddenly snapped his eyes open and felt like screaming again with the thought of her leaving. He tried to speak but only rasped noises came out. His throat felt so dry that the air coming from his mouth felt like setting his lungs on fire.
"You need to drink water, Eren." His grip on her nightgown tightened. "I won't leave." She held him tighter to reassure him.
Her voice was gentle and patient. "I just need to get your water on the table." Eren peaked at the table from her embrace and slowly let her go.
His room was illuminated slightly by Mikasa's candle at the table. She handed Eren a glass of water that helped to soothe his sore throat. She ran soothing circles at his back when he coughed up some of the water.
"I'm sor-sorry…" Eren never felt so embarrassed in his whole life. Besides sounding like a frog trying to speak, not only did he disturb her sleep, he hurt her… Clung to her like a newborn babe and now he can't even drink water on his own.
Mikasa only shook her head at him as if to say that it was no big deal "Don't be." and brushed his hair away from his forehead to prevent sweat from coming to contact with his eye.
"I get them too."
That was the end of that. Mikasa could tell that Eren was embarrassed so she never mentioned or asked about his night terrors.
But something changed after that night. Mikasa now takes the initiative to come to Eren's room with a mug of warm milk. They still don't know what to say to each other whenever she delivers his nightcap.
"Do you like it?" Eren nodded. The warmth of the drink bringing some color to his cheeks as his eyes peek out behind the mug is enough for Mikasa. She wordlessly leaves a glass of water at his table before she retires to bed.
Eren doesn't thank her and he pretends not to notice how she sometimes goes to his room in the dead of the night to check on him. Neither does he admit to himself that it makes him sleep better at night.
***
Even though they always eat together, they always eat in silence, until now. "Is there something wrong with the food?"
"...they are okay." Eren scrambles to think about what he did wrong. Did he eat too much? Was he too eager? Did he use the wrong knife?
He felt uneasy with Mikasa's eyes on him and ate the vegetable on his plate by mistake. He can't spit it out so he tried not to gag while chewing it.
"You don't like vegetables." It was an observation that wasn't meant to berate or belittle him. Eren knows that but nobody has ever commented on his eating habits unless to criticize him so he still felt uneasy. Evenso, he still felt ashamed. He felt like Mikasa just found some sort of fatal flaw or disability in him.
"Do you want to go out on a picnic with me tomorrow?" Mikasa's voice snapped him out of his spiral towards self-loathing and shame. Eren was dumbfounded by the sudden change of topic. Is she really asking for his opinion? Usually, people just decide for him. He didn't know what to do with this newfound privilege of choice that Mikasa was giving him. Before Eren can calculate Mikasa's ulterior motive, he finds himself nodding.
"Do you have any friends you want to invite with us?" He shook his head and prayed for her not to figure out that he has no friends… Eren doesn't want to look like a loser in front of Mikasa.
"Just the two of us then." He doesn't understand why he felt so relieved hearing that it would be just the two of them.
***
There are two maids, a footman, and a driver escorting them. They are underneath a big tree at the top of a hill, overlooking a field of flowers. After setting things up, Mikasa waves the escorts off with a generous amount of coins for them to enjoy the whole afternoon to themselves.
Eren allows himself to observe and enjoy the scenery.
It was a perfect day for a picnic. It's windy and Eren watches as the fluffy white clouds in the sky move and changes their shape. Aside from the blue mountains, there's an assortment of flowers surrounding them. It's the most beautiful place he's ever seen.
Eren turned to Mikasa. She's sitting on the right side of the blanket. All the food was placed on a table with short legs so it was only slightly elevated but not unreachable. Mikasa takes out a box of matches to light the ten little candles in a round chocolate cake. Her eyes slightly curled when she looked up to offer him a small smile.
"Happy 10th Birthday, Eren." Judging by Mikasa's smile, Eren knew that she knew that he had forgotten about his own birthday. It wasn't his fault. Again, he was unsure how to react.
Eren can only numbly sit on the left side and helplessly blow out the candles at Mikasa's urging. Negative feelings are swirling deep inside of him. He looked at all the food and it was all of his favorites.
Nobody, dead or alive, knows about his food preference. Nobody cares about his birth date… so how did she know?
Mikasa was saying something but Eren couldn't hear her. His eyes widened when he saw her reaching for a serrated knife.
Before he could even stop himself, the birthday boy grabbed the older girl's wrist. "How did you know?" he inwardly winced at the accusatory tone that his voice carried. "...about the fo-food or my birthday?" Eren knows that Mikasa doesn't deserve anything less than his best behavior around her but he is always near hysterical on the inside with the way she treats him. She has never done anything wrong and that's the problem from Eren's perspective. How is he supposed to treat her?
If Mikasa was surprised or offended by his tone, she never showed and calmly answered him. "The food was a gamble. I noticed how you eat more when they are at the table. Your birthday… I asked Dina all about you when we had tea before father married her."
Why would you go that far for someone like me? is the only thought running through Eren's mind.
"Eren, what's wrong?" Mikasa tried to touch Eren with her other hand but he caught it with his other one albeit more gently. Eren wasn't angry, frustrated, or in pain so he didn't know how to react. He should be relieved but it only riddled him with anxiety. Before Mikasa, he had never known kindness, gentleness, or anything close to those feelings.
Everything that comes to mind when Eren thinks to describe Mikasa is a foreign concept to him. It's not real, or at least not someone like him is allowed to have. He liked his life now. So much… that it pains his chest and burns into the remaining pieces of his soul.
Eren felt an ice-cold rush of panic when he realized how tightly he's been holding onto Mikasa's wrists. "I'm sorry..." he slowly lets go of her wrists.
Why can't he stop hurting her? Eren inwardly beats himself up remembering how he hurt her when he was thrashing because of a nightmare and how he's done it again.
Eren hugged his knees and bowed his head. "My mother was a maid who died giving birth to me. Nobody has ever celebrated my birthday… ever." Eren knows it wasn't an excuse for the way he treated her or much of an apology but he wanted her to understand. He wanted her to know that he never meant to hurt her. Ever. She has to know that he never meant to hurt her.
Mikasa interrupts Eren from alternating between guilt and self-loathing for being vulnerable. "I have always wanted a sibling." he blinked at the revelation. She tucked her knees and rested her head in them, facing him.
"My mother died giving birth to me too and as you've observed my father was always away on business." she paused for a bit and continued. "So I have always been alone."
Is that why you get nightmares too? He wanted to ask but he kept his mouth shut which urged her to continue.
"Of course, there are servants around and I can easily befriend them if I insist but I found out early on, on several occasions that it only brings unnecessary troubles." Mikasa grimaced, remembering her pathetic attempts before she gave up.
Maids either want to climb her father's bed, actively spy to sell information, or simply use her for her wealth. It doesn't sound so bad for Mikasa but she wanted something real, as naive and nonexistent as it may be.
"The friends that I seek are as rare as a love match." she tried to put it lightly, "And I don't think I can ever really quite fit in with the ladies in high society." but the loneliness was deeply felt.
Nevertheless, she remained perfect in his eyes. The respect that he felt for her increased because she was strong enough to admit what others try so hard to hide.
Eren remembered Dina and her friends –vultures as he calls them in his mind– that frequented the Yeager estate. "I can see that. You are different from them." Mikasa was not sure how to reply.
"In a good way!" he waved his hands around trying to think of ways to convince her but came empty "Different but in a good way," Eren added hastily because he was truly complimenting her but was afraid of getting misunderstood.
Mikasa patted Eren's head to reassure him. "Thank you but I don't think I am much different, Eren." She sat up straight and stretched her legs. "I am just like everyone else. For one thing, I like beautiful things." Eren couldn't keep his eyes off Mikasa as she lovingly gestured at the field of flowers and closed her eyes to feel the gentle breeze on her face.
She opened her almond eyes with a new resolve in them. "Protection and safety for me and my family are also important to me." It was the most important thing for her.
"Tea parties are a great way to establish trust and connection. That's one of the reasons why everyone gets so caught up with appearances. One discord or wrong word out of your mouth can ruin an entire household. Loyal servants also have families to feed." Eren has never thought of it that way but listening to Mikasa puts things into perspective.
That's why she's different. Eren can agree with her statement to some extent but he doesn't think most nobles have the same mindset as her. Most are just animals that wear human skins as a disguise.
Mikasa noticed Eren's struggle to comfort her so she tried to lighten up the mood. "That's the reason why I was excited about your arrival!"
Eren tried to remember the day they met and thought out loud. "I never would have guessed with the expression you were wearing." and she welcomed that change in him, no matter how small.
"How could I act excited when you just got out of mourning?" Mikasa explained herself. How could anyone greet someone so cheerfully who just got out of mourning? It's only been a year since Grisha and Zeke died.
Eren was once again blown away by Mikasa's thoughtfulness. He has always felt as if he had no right to even grieve having lost his father and brother. They never had the best relationship and he wasn't even sure what that looks like but they were blood. Not one soul but Mikasa recognized his grief.
"I know it's selfish but I just thought since you arrived that I never have to be alone again… at least not for a while." In his eyes, she was anything but selfish.
Eren and Mikasa shared a moment when they looked into each other's eyes. It was a moment where they truly understood each other more than the strange circumstance that they found themselves in. They won't need to be alone anymore.
For the first time in forever, Eren felt content. He realized that with the way things went down, this is the best thing that could have happened to him.
Not long after, Mikasa eagerly asked him to eat some sort of a round-wrapped sandwich first. "I assisted in making it myself." Eren warily unwrapped it and despite his hesitation, took a generous bite. His expressive green eyes lightened up when he tasted it.
Mikasa felt satisfied seeing him happily eating it then dropped a bomb on him. "There are at least four vegetables in that sandwich."
"What?!" Eren was shocked. What kind of sorcery is this? Mikasa nodded to reaffirm the fact and smiled.
"I know that you only eat meat and that vegetables can be unpalatable at times but your body needs them to grow healthy and strong." Eren felt offended and dodged her attempts to pat his head again.
"I am not a kid! Don't treat me like a child! You are only older than me by five years!" Eren quickly covered his mouth to stop himself from ruining things but to his relief, Mikasa only chuckled which made his cheeks pink. He was annoyed because Mikasa treats him like a child when she is a child herself but liked the light atmosphere between them.
"I haven't given you a gift yet. Is there anything you want?" his eyes widened. He gets a gift too?! "You don't need to. This is more than enough!"
Mikasa thinks of the things that her little brother may want and smiles indulgently. "But I want to."
"I can't think of anything." A total lie.
Celebrating his birthday with just the two of them is enough.
"Alright then, you need to tell me when you think of anything and I'll get it for you to the best of my abilities." He wants her to promise to always celebrate his birthday with him. Eren still didn't say anything and just nodded. Even though the levity between them didn't disappear, there's a certain stone weighing on his heart because of his inability to communicate what he wanted.
“How about your dreams?” she got his attention back on her. “Do you have any dreams for the future?”
There is no hesitation on Eren's part this time. “I want to be powerful. I want to win and get what I want.” If Mikasa found his answer strange, she didn’t say anything and only contemplated for a bit.
“If that’s what you want then I’ll help you.” She told him that one way to ensure prestige is to excel in the academy that all nobles are required to attend so he needs to have a head start in his education.
Mikasa asked him if he was okay with her being in charge of his education or if he wanted her to hire a tutor.
Eren is elated that someone is taking his dreams seriously and is even actively helping him but was then plagued with his deep-rooted insecurities. "Is that even possible considering the circumstances of my birth?"
Mikasa is not a liar to assuage him of his worries because it wasn't entirely unfounded but she ached the same because he sounded so vulnerable so she let him in on something she wasn't entirely comfortable touching on. "You are born into this world. A man. With work, you can almost have anything that you want. It's not a guarantee but you have more leeway and chances than most have." It would be years until Eren can finally understand what Mikasa meant, “I’ll help you, Eren. I’m with you, every step of the way.” nonetheless he believed her when she said she'd help him and goddess help her, she did.
Mikasa helped Eren get everything his heart ever desired and more.
***
Mikasa found out that Eren doesn't possess a natural-born talent like her or her cousin, Levi, instead he is focused and has a sheer will and determination once he decides to commit to something. She greatly admires his consistent effort and grit in his studies. Even with her natural talent, not even she can display such dedication towards it. It was displayed most especially when it was time for their history lesson. It was Mikasa’s favorite subject so it pains her to see just how bored Eren was with it.
“What do you have against history?” Eren shrugged.
“I am not questioning its inclusion in our lessons. I know self-important nobles-” Eren corrected himself “-people won’t want anyone to forget their achievements so I am going to memorize it all but don’t expect me to understand why people read stuff like this for entertainment.” and Mikasa took that as a challenge.
Later that evening, “What are you doing here?” Mikasa's presence isn't unwelcomed but he's generally puzzled.
“I am going to read you a bedtime story.” Eren’s first reaction is to yell that he wasn’t a kid and she should stop treating him as one but Eren saw the history book they were studying earlier and sighed. Eren decided to indulge her because she’s surprisingly stubborn and he doesn’t think he can win against her.
Mikasa sat on Eren’s bed and motioned for him to get comfortable since it was going to be a long bedtime story.
It was an eye-opening experience for both of them. Mikasa never knew how fun it was to talk to someone about her interests and Eren didn’t hate it because she told him stories from the past in a way that wasn’t boring. He doesn’t want to admit it but he wants more.
Mikasa surprised him by asking questions and it felt strange to him that he just knew the answers like the back of his hand. Eren rolled his eyes at Mikasa when she smiled triumphantly at him.
This was the first of countless nights Mikasa spends in Eren’s bed telling him stories of the past, inadvertently curing his crippling nightmares. Instead of white flowers stained in blood, he now dreams of giants and the heroes that saved the world.
***
"Do you want me to get you a magic tutor and a swordmaster to continue your training?" Mikasa asked Eren while they were having their afternoon tea. He was doing so well with his studies that she was forced to increase the difficulty as months went by.
It was perfect timing because the person she had in mind to be Eren's swordmaster finally wrote back.
"How did you know?" Eren and Mikasa spend most of their time together now. It brought them so much joy that they didn’t know a human being is possible to feel. The feeling of belonging and acceptance that they make each other feel is intoxicating that they forget what their life was like before meeting each other. "Right… Dina." Eren answered his own question.
When Mikasa first talked to Dina about Eren, she realized early on that she'll most likely be in charge of practically raising him and she'll be damned if she leaves him out to dry like how everyone did as she was growing up.
There is unspoken transparency between them that builds up the mutual trust they have for one another. But one thing Mikasa wasn't willing to divulge is how Eren's stepmother can barely tell her anything about him. It wasn't a big problem for her as she resorted to other means to get the information that she wanted. Visiting her uncle Kenny and his lover, Uri at the underworld was more than enough to know everything about Eren Yeager. Remembering how Eren was before he had fully adjusted, she's so glad that she did.
***
"Let's just hope Crazy Mage doesn't get you killed when they get their hands on you." this is the only thing Levi said to Eren after assessing his abilities.
Levi Ackerman was a distant relative of Mikasa but Eren noticed how they are alike in more ways than Mikasa ever was to Kevan and he was relieved to have another person like her around. The only condition Levi has for teaching Eren the art of the sword is for him to cease any sort of magic training until he deems him ready.
Eren's lessons with Levi take up most of his time now. Aside from their meals together, he doesn't get to spend much time with Mikasa anymore.
Privately, Eren was saddened but had this resolve in his heart to better himself. At night, aside from their bedtime story ritual, Mikasa attends to his injuries because Eren refuses to let anyone touch him. It was a curious thing how the two of them don't acknowledge how Mikasa was Eren's exception.
As Mikasa gently rubs a generous amount of cream on Eren's calluses, his eyes are shining with excitement telling her all about his lessons with Levi. "I just don't understand how he can spin like that!"
The young boy paused and looked up to Mikasa, lowering his voice. "He must be lying and using some sort of magic because humans don't move like that!"
Mikasa couldn't stop herself anymore and fully laughed now.
"The Ackermans are mostly, if not fully magic resistant." Magic doesn't work on the Ackermans but they also can't use magic. She reminded Eren of their bloodline quirk and he groaned but he didn't sulk that long because Eren always liked the adrenaline in his veins.
"I'll beat him someday!" Eren vowed revenge.
"I know a way for you to be able to land a hit on Levi." Mikasa's eyes twinkled because she liked getting the rise out of Levi.
Eren was so eager earlier but now felt reluctant when he noticed where they were heading. It is known that the Ackermans are the only people allowed inside their infamous tower.
When he voiced his concerns, that made Mikasa pause to reiterate how her father adopted him and that he's an Ackerman now. "Tell me immediately if someone dares to tell you otherwise." Eren was a bit annoyed by Mikasa's protectiveness of him but it reassured him of his place.
The infamous Astronomy Tower with its stained glass ceiling is the tallest in the Ackerman estate. It has an upper and lower dome. The lower dome has several rooms but is mostly a huge library with unlabeled leather books and the upper dome houses a telescope.
When Mikasa took out a music box and the music played in the background, that's when he started having doubts. "Are you sure about this?" He knows she only intended to help but Eren really couldn't comprehend how learning how to dance would make him better at fighting.
"Most people don't know this but–" Eren could see where this was going and he interrupted Mikasa.
"Are you sure I am allowed to know Ackerman's family secrets?" he said jokingly but mostly because he was skeptical.
Mikasa's leveled stare stopped him from talking. "-Levi is a phenomenal dancer and he moves just as fluidly and gracefully as he does in and out of combat. This isn't a sure way of winning against him but if you want a shot at winning, learning the flow and applying it to your combat skills is the way to go."
Despite Eren's skepticism, Mikasa is the person he trusts the most so he follows her to the center of the room. Eren stared up at Mikasa, resolute that someday he'll grow bigger and taller than her even if it's the last thing he does. His complex was all forgotten when she asked for his hand.
Eren was annoyed at how he was now reduced to a blushing maiden in front of her. He took her hand instead and she lightly pulled him closer to her.
Eren pursed his lips and looked up at her. "Why are you on your tiptoes?" Standing face to face, their height difference is already so emphasized and it annoys him so much. At fourteen, Mikasa is taller than the average female and stands at 171 cm while Eren at ten years of age is 1 cm.
"It's easier to move when you are on your toes." Mikasa sighed at Eren's constant scrutinization. She dropped his hand. "Go stand in the corner first and let me give you an idea of how the dance will go."
Eren raised an eyebrow at that. "Without a partner?"
"I'll act as if I have a partner." Mikasa on her tiptoes positioned her hands as if she had an invisible partner.
Eren's jaw dropped when she started. Mikasa spins at a breakneck speed. He couldn't even tell her how her nightgown is riding up and exposing her bare legs with tongue-tied he is. He could only stare at her as she spins in reverse around the room back to her initial position at the center. Don't even get him started with the body tilts and the leaping, Eren legitimately thought Mikasa was flying.
If anyone were to attempt what Mikasa did, they'll probably only look stupid. But not her… She looked beautiful.
"Follow my lead." Eren would never admit how thankful he was that Mikasa slowed things down for him as she was teaching him.
"Don't be afraid, I won't fall." Mikasa smiled because she can tell that Eren was concerned that she'll get hurt if he fails to support her weight. What she didn't tell him is how she's holding her own weight instead of resting everything on him as it should because she doesn't want to bruise his pride. He's young so, understandably, he won't be able to but Eren is a breed of crazy persistence that insists on subjecting himself to these ridiculously high standards.
Neither slept until the early signs of dawn but it was worth it because after a week of dance lessons…
"I managed to land a hit on him!" There's a blooming bruise on Eren's head and his arm is bleeding but it didn't take away the shine in his eyes as he joyfully recounted the story to Mikasa who was attending to his wounds. Since his arm is injured they decided to take a break from their dance lesson and just continue to talk on the terrace underneath the stars.
Both of them turned to each other when they saw a shooting star. "What did you wish for?" Mikasa asked.
Eren realized as the star-filled sky as his witness that he's happy and if things continue to stay the way they are that he has nothing more to wish for.
Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to stay that way.
***
The Ackermans have always been a powerful ducal family with a long history.
Despite having connections, beauty, talent, resources, and everything one could want; they often have tragic ends. It's said to be the price they had to pay for letting the royal family experiment on them to obtain their infamous magic resistance.
The tragedy is like an Ackerman trademark at this point. The members of the Ackerman clan are known to often fixate or obsess about a specific thing or person that they'll do whatever it takes to obtain it and cut down anyone who stands in their way.
A single-minded devotion that each family member shared. Depending on who you ask, it was seen as a birthright, curse, or mental defect because of the family’s inbreeding to maintain their bloodline in the earlier generations.
That’s the reason why Kevan Ackerman married a princess from a far east country with the sole purpose of providing an heir for duty. Because just like Kenny, he never wanted the ducal seat.
The Duke of diamonds is Kevan Ackerman's moniker. He has an obsession with them and personally supervises the mining. He has an uncanny talent and luck with everything that has something to do with diamonds. Diamonds are everything to him, they defined him and will be his legacy. He doesn't have any room in his heart for anyone or anything else.
Mikasa found that out when she was nine years old. She was on her way to the kitchen for some water when she passed her father's study.
“Don’t cha' think you should take it easy with your diggin?” Kevan only replied with a faint laugh that somehow only made the pit in Mikasa’s stomach who was eavesdropping fall even deeper. “I am serious. At this rate, yo’ gonna be buried alive. Don’t want sweet Mika to be orphaned like little Levi.” Even though Kenny is supposed to be in exile with the deposed king, Uri Reiss, he still visits his old home to check on things when time allows it.
“Us Ackermans must go where we want to go and die where we must.” The little girl that loves unconditionally tried to understand where her father was coming from but only the truth remained that she was all alone in this cruel world.
Mikasa now prepares a pitcher of water by her bedside before going to sleep. She doesn't want to overhear conversations again that manage to lower her already low expectations.
As she lay in bed, she set aside her feelings to think about it and it all suddenly made sense to Mikasa.
That stormy night, she went up to the Astronomy Tower to check on those journals again.
It wasn't just the Ackermans being born privileged to have the best of everything that sets them apart from the other noble families.
Usually, with power comes great responsibility, but contrary to that, their privilege allows them to be free. Free to pursue whatever it is that they want. They weren't pressured to fill in societal expectations, they were raised to look after themselves.
The only thing that the family requires is for them to write about their life.
At nine years old, Mikasa has already read every single journal stored inside the Astronomy Tower. There must be hundreds of them… She was mostly left unsupervised and was privy to every single detail of her great but fallen family members.
In the Titan Age, centuries ago, the last Ackerman knight: Henry Ackerman who has the undying knightly faith to serve the Reiss royal family only to be betrayed by them which resulted in having his immediate family members hunted and killed.
The Iceburst Age's Luxana Ackerman who has an obsession with reaching the clouds in the sky, only to plummet to her death on the cold hard ground with the flying machine that she spent her whole life making.
To Kuchel Ackerman, who was engaged and gave nothing but love to Marley's crown prince but the said prince chose to marry another woman from a baron family. If that wasn’t enough, framed her for a crime she didn’t commit to justify jilting her. It didn’t matter that their schemes were obviously disproven or how Kuchel was already pregnant with the crown prince’s child. He refused to take responsibility or acknowledge Levi as his son. Kuchel Ackerman still spent her whole life in disgrace. People reduced her to this whore, as some caricature of a villainess and shunned by high society until her death when Levi was only six years old.
How many more of them should fall until the next one learns their lesson?
Even though it gave Mikasa a strong sense of justice, she learned from those journals that a good heart doesn’t give you a pass for a happy ending. Good or bad, the world is equally still cruel. Even then, she is resolved to live a peaceful and happy life away from high society.
Every noble child in their kingdom is required to attend The New Eldian Empire Academy once they turn fifteen. Attending the academy is crucial as it also serves as a noble's debut in society. Most engagements, alliances, and animosities alike are most likely built within those four years inside the academy walls.
Mikasa felt more at ease with her decision now that Levi is around to hold the fort. The future of house Ackerman is already secured with her little brother, Eren. So she has nothing to worry about anymore and she can do whatever it is that she pleases.
Of course, there's this option for Mikasa to attend and just keep to herself but with her position, she doesn't think it's possible.
Everyone is dying to get their hands on the Ackerman dukedom.
Mikasa could get a fiancee who preferably doesn't want the duke's seat which is very unlikely or someone she can dump after she graduates to get the target off her back. The problem with that is one wrong judgment of character from her, and she could endanger both Eren and Levi who also has the right to inherit the duke's seat. Mikasa doesn't like how high the odds are of her setting a conspiracy in motion. That's why she'll do whatever it takes to escape those four years.
That's where Mikasa thought of the Church Of Ymir. It wasn't a popular choice for nobles because its study mostly focuses on healing and theology. Founder Ymir's grudge against King Karl I still remains to this day, which is why her temple only caters to women. Signing up means you'll need to study and serve for nine whole years without going out of the temple. You can send and receive letters but it wasn't as luxurious as studying in the Academy and by the time your nine years are up, you'll be considered an old maid. So the small percentage of women who chose the temple over the Academy almost always wanted to be a full-time priestesses. Mikasa didn't want that. She just wanted the most diplomatic way to evade and avoid playing anyone's game.
***
"Nosy brat." Mikasa smiled seeing Levi's face souring upon seeing her face.
"I wish I could have seen your face when he landed a hit on you." he only glared at her before handing her a small box with a bow on it.
"You're fifteen, gloomy brat." A moment of heavy silence passed between them.
"Thank you, Levi." Mikasa offered a small but sincere smile at him.
"Are you sure about the temple?" Despite the family not being his priority, Levi cared deeply for Mikasa. She was the closest thing that he has to a little sister.
"Have you already told him?" In the short few months that he has known Eren, Levi doesn't think he'll take the separation easy with how attached they were to each other.
Still getting no answer from her, he goes for the jugular. "He's going to lose it. That brat has anger issues."
"Look who's talking. Are you sure you're not projecting?" she tried to deflect but he didn't take the bait and continued to wait for her answer.
Mikasa dismissed the thought of Eren's face when they first met. "He's still young, he'll meet more people and get over it."
Levi only sipped on his tea to stop himself from further commenting.
"I wish I could see Eren's reaction when he meets his magic tutor." she knows she'd be long gone by the time he revisits his magical studies.
"You're going to take care of Eren, right? He's still young so someone needs to nudge him in the right direction." it wasn't Mikasa's intention to imply anything but Levi gave her a resigned wistful smile.
"Yes, I'll even take him with me when… I travel to meet my… friends." She laughed at that.
He mumbled troublesome brats before shooing her away but not before she went for his weakness "Give Hanji my regards!" Levi glared at her and she scrambled out of the door, lightly giggling at successfully getting a rise out of her cousin.
***
Eren was vibrating with excitement as he ran up to their spot at the hill with Mikasa closely following behind him. "Hurry up!" Mikasa only smiled exasperatedly but finds herself moving faster at his cajoling.
It was Mikasa's fifteenth birthday and they'll be spending it on their spot together. Eren's current excitement was quite a contrast with how he was when he first climbed the hill with Mikasa.
When they first celebrated Eren's tenth birthday, he was determined to return the favor but immediately felt letdown when he found out that her birthday had already passed. She's quick to reassure him that they'll have more birthdays to celebrate together in the future and he liked how that sounded so he shut his mouth. He started scribbling on parchment because he was already planning Mikasa's birthday next year.
They are already setting things up on their spot underneath their tree. Levi, after giving Mikasa her birthday gift, went out to meet his friends who happened to be in town for some ale. Kevan and Dina were not home as expected but it was alright, their absence was even welcomed as they were happy with just the two of them.
They were on the carriage on their way home when Mikasa remembered that he forgot to tell Eren about her impending departure. He was sound asleep with his head resting on her lap. She didn't want to put a damper on the day that he planned for her.
She helplessly stroked his brown hair while thinking of a way to break the news to him. Mikasa speculated in her mind that perhaps it was more for her than for him. She didn't want to break the news yet as if that would somehow delay everything.
***
"What about…" me? The feeling of everything closing in on him is back. "–our studies?" He felt like Mikasa was talking in another language.
Mikasa walked slowly towards him as if approaching a wounded animal but he only backed away. "Levi will handle your education until it's time for you to go to the academy." She tried catching his eyes to no avail. "He might be small but he's actually better than me so you'll be okay." It was an attempt to lighten up the mood but it did nothing. She didn't attempt that and remained silent as Eren tried to absorb the news.
After a long silence, "You'll visit once a year during breaks?" Mikasa winced at Eren's hopeful tone.
Her throat felt dry and her mouth refused to let him down once more so she only shook her head.
His nostrils flared and his head jerked up to look at her directly. "Why not?" he got better at masking his emotions but she could tell that behind his question there is this underlying anger and frustration.
Eren unblinkingly listens to Mikasa's explanation.
"Nine years?" He suddenly has the urge to break every single thing he can get his hands on but most of all he wanted to beg her to stay.
Thoughts of thrashing anything he can get his hands on were dismissed when Mikasa holds both of his hands because even though he's grieving, he doesn't want to hurt her.��
"I'll write to you every week." She squeezed his hands and tried to crouch down to catch his eyes but he stubbornly refused to look at her.
"I won't write ba-back." he snapped back.
Mikasa bit her lip but shook her head to shake off the feeling of rejection. "That's okay… I'll still write to you."
Mikasa is set to leave in a week. They still do their routines together but there is this tension.
Eren refused to speak once more, clinging to his silence like a security blanket.
Even Levi could see the strained atmosphere between Eren and Mikasa. "Quit being a brat. If your sister gets married someday, are you not going to talk to her anymore?"
Yes. Eren didn't answer and continued to strike at Levi but the older man had enough and hit him at the solar plexus using the back of his sword. Eren backed away and violently coughed.
"You are an Ackerman now and Ackermans don't do regrets." Eren is an Ackerman now but how could he live without regrets when he doesn't even want to live anymore with the thought of Mikasa being gone?
***
Mikasa was telling him a bedtime story as usual but unlike before he doesn't chime in or say a word. She swallowed the heartache of being punished with his silence. She closed the book and was preparing to leave when he grabbed the hem of the sleeves of her nightgown to stop her from leaving.
"Eren, what's wrong?" He didn't say anything and only pulled harder, refusing to meet her eyes.
"...do you want another story?" Mikasa is just confused.
Eren growled in frustration. It was the first time that they made eye contact since he learned of her eventual departure.
Mikasa didn't know for sure if it was his eyes or her growing weariness but she let him yank her back to his bed. She waited for him to say something but he didn't say anything.
Sleep took her with the view of his blank face stubbornly keeping his eyes on the ceiling.
When Mikasa's eyes closed, that's when Eren finally turned his head to face her. He stared at her face, to immortalize it in his mind as if he hadn't already.
She was asleep and he knows she'll be spending the night but he couldn't let go of her sleeves, he doesn't want to let go. Tightening his grip, that's when he allowed himself to be pulled into a dreamless sleep.
Even with the recent schism and tension between them, they still prefer that rather than spend the last of their days without each other.
Levi temporarily suspended his lessons with Eren.
Eren didn't contest Levi's decision and spent his time shadowing Mikasa, even as she did her work to turn over and divide the household duties.
Mikasa formally introduced him to the key members of the household. She looked at him, wordlessly asking for his consent and he nodded at her.
Mikasa's voice was still soft but she raised her voice a bit. She clearly wanted her next words to be heeded. There was an authority in her voice when she instructed them to come to him if they needed assistance. "Eren is good with numbers and any problem you present to him, he'll surely find an unconventional way of solving it." He understood the opportunity she was giving him but his heart remained heavy as she was leaving him.
When all the business of the household was taken care of, Eren and Mikasa used their remaining days dancing. She told him that if he wants dancing lessons for balls and parties, they can hire an etiquette teacher or dance teacher since she doesn't have experience dancing other than with Levi and Eren but the latter insisted on her being the one to teach him by grumbling.
Rather than get annoyed with Eren's moodiness and monosyllabic way of communicating, Mikasa was grateful that at the very least they are communicating again.
They spent their remaining days hardly talking but also barely leaving each other's side. It was also unspoken how Mikasa would sleep beside Eren now. They spend as much time together as possible but her departure hangs over their heads, a noose sucking the life out of them. Because it will never be enough.
Their eyes felt heavy but the two of them refused to retire to bed. They stubbornly remained on the Astronomy Tower’s terrace to watch the stars.
Mikasa broke the silence. "Eren, dance with me?" something about her tone struck a chord in him. Almost like in a trance, he followed Mikasa to the center of the lower dome just underneath the stained glass ceiling where the light of the moon creates a kaleidoscope of colors around them.
They didn’t dance the waltz or any other dances they practiced in the last few days. They just held each other as closely as physically possible while slowly swaying to the music box’s tune. They didn't say anything the whole time, their heads are also free from thoughts. They just savored the moment of them being so close to each other.
When the song stopped, Eren slowly let go of Mikasa to close the music box whilst she remained dazed in the middle of the room. He went back for her and pulled her sleeves to guide them back to his room.
They lay at their sides facing each other.
“...Eren?” she called out to him in the dark.
“Mikasa,” he answered and she slightly beamed that he was finally talking to her again.
She couldn't find the words to express herself as words were never her strong suit.
The dawn is not far away and she'll be leaving soon. When she looks into his eyes all she could feel is the feeling of immense gratitude.
"Thank you." She thanked him for talking to her again.
"Thank you–" for being someone I could care about. She choked and could only get the word thank you out. A perfectly shaped tear flowed out of her eye when she blinked.
Eren pulled Mikasa close to him and softly wiped her tears with a gentleness he never knew he was ever capable of. Because Mikasa deserves nothing less and she's the only one who ever showed him that he was capable of ever being happy. They were happy. He was happy and now it's over. She's leaving him.
Mikasa slid closer to Eren. She stroked his hair and rested his head on the nook of her neck. "...thank you, Eren" tears uncontrollably flowed out of her eyes "…for caring about me." Thank you for caring enough about me to get mad that I signed my youth away.
Eren's eyes burned and a large volume of hot tears steadily flowed out of him.
The two of them silently cried themselves to sleep holding on to each other in the dark hoping the light would not come at all.
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Some notes about my OC Arte
My OC Arthur, who is featured in like three pieces, is going through some changes. While I used the name Arthur in reference to the medieval tales, it was long before I knew Sonic was sometimes written as King Arthur in fanfics. I've considered changing my OC's name for a while despite really liking the name
So I've decided that although Arthur is his official name, he will go by the nickname Arte, pronounced "art," like magic artes. This is also a bit of a reference to the Tales series, specifically Tales of Arise, which I watched SO play and really enjoyed
(Arte's love interest will still refer to him as Kingsley, his last name. This is just a plot device where in times of importance, she will refer to him as something else. A bit like in Nier Automata 🤫)
Another big change is that his hair will no longer be black, as for some strange reason when he has black hair, he reminds me of someone I don't prefer no matter how much I try to think otherwise 🙃 The resemblance always really bothered me since Arte is supposed to be based on SO, who also has black hair, but I just can't make it work. I've always really liked platinum blonde hair anyway...
His color scheme will stay red and black as those are SO's favorite colors. He's still a cat, SO's favorite animal. And I'm giving Arte ice powers because--you guessed it--ice is SO's favorite element
I thought that it would be tricky to make red and ice work; I even considered changing his fur color to cool tones. But after looking at Blaze, whose fur is not fiery red/orange (but rather purple to complement the yellow glow of fire), I realized I could make it work through a primary color scheme: red (fur), blue (ice), and yellow (hair). It's just another good reason to make him blonde
Arte will be getting an upgraded outfit. I've always liked designing clothes so that process has been really fun ^^ Plus this look tho 👀
Fun facts:
Arte owning a hotel business is inspired by SO's childhood
Arte's weapon, the rapier, is based off the Red Mage in FFXIV, a character SO enjoys playing
SO does not dress fancy; Arte dressing up is purely self-indulgent lmao
Arte not like the nickname Artie. Only use it to piss him off 💀
While Arte grew up spoiled (only child, born into wealth), a materialistic ex unintentionally showed him the error of his ways. He still enjoys the finer things in life, though he's more grateful about it
I've considered the idea of him receiving combat training from Blaze, though I haven't really fleshed that out yet
(When it comes to like, the historical context of things--a weapon from this century, a coat from that location--I haven't done any research to confirm if it all matches. But history is not my favorite subject so I don't particularly care in all honesty lol. Plus it's fiction. We're just gonna make it up as we go 😇)
This character has been in the works for a while so it's exciting to finally make some headway on him 🥲
I know it's pretty annoying to bring up my husband so much but he really has been a huge source of inspiration to me, always supporting me and being my biggest fan 💖
#arte the cat#sonic oc#sth#via's cursed cast#arte#might post a doodle tomorrow 👀#if i don't chicken out#via's birthweek#via's birthweek 2022#arte kingsley
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Here's a self indulgent post lol. Some pride outfits I put together! They're based on some non-sso ocs that I've brought into sso via a method I like to call You Are A Horse Now
There's 6 outfits (asexual, polyamorous, genderfluid, agender, bisexual, and the progress pride flag) with clothes/tack listed, so if you're interested keep reading!
Keep in mind that sadly some of these clothes may not be available to buy anymore, they're just what I had in my closet. I've included alternatives to the items that are not in shops though :)
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First off is Valentine, a ginger nerd who thinks he's god, appearing in sso as an andalusian! He's ace.
Horse
Bridle: snazzy bridle (alt: raring racer bridle in violet)
Saddle: ebony classic jumping saddle
Saddle pad: beautiful summer night saddle pad
Leg wraps: snazzy safety leg wraps (alt: raring racer leg wraps in violet)
Rider
Head: effortlessly chic riding helmet
Top: gray knitted valedale sweater
Legs: white riding pants (alt: raring racer pants with frost belt)
Feet: trendy city boots
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Next are Dahlia, Grey, and Vera! The three of them are in a polyamorous relationship, and appear in sso as a percheron, aqh, and rune runner, respectively.
Horse
Bridle: gold baroque medieval bridle (alt: medieval black and gold hackamore)
Saddle: ebony classic jumping saddle
Saddle pad: exclusive blue saddle (alt: blue cowboy saddle pad)
Leg wraps: unnamed, can be found in the mall
Rider
Head: effortlessly chic riding helmet
Top: gold baroque top (alt: admiral's dressage jacket in black)
Legs: gold baroque pants (alt: raring racer pants with bronze belt)
Feet: admiral's dressage boots (alt: black competition boots)
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Here's Dahlia again with their genderfluid pride outfit :)
Horse
Bridle: rex stamper ebony bridle
Saddle: bobcats jumping saddle (alt: raring racer saddle in berry)
Saddle pad: eco athleisure saddle pad in black
Leg wraps: unnamed (alt: raring racer leg wraps in indigo)
Rider
Head: sweet cherry blossom crown
Top: white spring shirt
Legs: black corduroy jeans
Feet: bobcats shoes (alt: dark blue cross-country boots)
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Next is Miaeth, a sweet little angel appearing in sso as an icelandic! They wear an agender outfit <3
Horse
Bridle: rex stamper ebony bridle
Saddle: ebony classic jumping saddle
Saddle pad: green riding instructor saddle pad
Leg wraps: steel grey and black leg wraps
Rider
Head: black trucker cap
Top: bright stable shirt
Legs: grey street pants (alt: stadium chic show jumping breeches)
Feet: black competition boots
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Here's Sheep, a tiefling girl who gets into trouble alot. She appears in sso as a jorvik pony and here she's wearing bi pride <3
Horse
Bridle: rex stamper walnut bridle
Saddle: 10th anniversary quiz saddle
Saddle pad: purple champion saddle pad
Leg wraps: charcoal corral boots
Rider
Head: iberian-style helmet
Top: fall wool knitted sweater
Legs: will-o-whiskers leggings (alt: black corduroy jeans)
Feet: high top sporty sneakers
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Finally, here's Ophelius! He's the son of Vera and Grey, and shows up in sso as a lusitano. He's a cishet guy but i love him so much that I couldn't leave him out, so here he is wearing the progress pride ribbons in allyship :')
Horse
Bridle: medieval black and gold bridle
Saddle: ebony classic jumping saddle
Saddle pad: natural white diamond quilt saddle pad
Leg wraps: gold baroque leg wraps (alt: betty western boots)
Rider
Head: effortlessly chic riding helmet
Top: one billion races jacket (alt: yellow fall t-shirt)
Legs: white riding pants (alt: raring racer pants with frost belt)
Feet: black competition boots
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2 3 4 6 8 12 14 15 17 18 20 for the "ask game that tells a lot about you"
thanks for these, lovely!!! 💖
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2. if you could be fluent in any language at the snap of your fingers, which one and why?
if you had asked me a few years ago i would've 100% said turkish but now?? i don't really know. maybe french or japanese.
3. when do you wake up?
i can wake up any time from 7:30am-3:00pm depending on what i'm doing on a certain day. consistency? idk her.
4. what was your favourite tv show as a kid?
the story of tracy beaker, bratz, teen titans, raven... basically most shows on cbbc, as i'm sure a lot of other brits can relate to.
6. realist, optimist, or pessimist?
definitely a realist with a heavy dose of pessimism. i'm a pretty pessimistic person, especially when it comes to myself. however, when i'm with others i feel myself being more optimistic because i don't want to be overly negative with other people. i guess i'm a bit of a people-pleaser in that way.
8. how do you mark your spot in a book?
a good old bookmark!! i have quite a few dotted around my room.
12. is your handwriting more print, cursive, or a mix?
neither lol. it's just kinda... there. my handwriting is a bit odd (i have inconsistent ways of writing the same letters), and it's neither pretty to look at nor horrendous.
14. what is your defining personality trait?
oh gosh, i don't actually know!!! i've changed quite a lot over the past few years. if you'd asked me a few years ago i might've said my creativity or my humour or my curiosity, but as of now i'm not sure anymore. i guess i'm pretty open-minded and it takes a lot to surprise me.
15. roller skates or rollerblades or ice skates?
none... if i'm allowed to answer that lmao. i already struggle with my balance thanks to my stupid, weird feet that already turn inwards so i imagine i'd probably knock myself out if i tried any more them lol. if i had to choose i'd go with the rollerblades.
17. what would your superpower be? how would you use it?
for pure self indulgence, it would have to be flight. when i was really low with my depression a few years ago i started having vivid dreams of flying and those dreams kinda kept be going. yeah, there are probably more useful or more cool powers to have, but being able to fly would be a total wish fulfilment for me now.
18. what’s your clothing colour palette?
i mostly wear black or really dark blue.
20. weapon of choice in a medieval battle
oooh a sword or a dagger. i'd love to be able to wield a bow too. i would love to have some fantastical superpowers most of all, but i'm guessing that that's off the table lol.
-
thanks again!!! ❤️
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“Barley Lightfoot, the overgrown elf who never outgrew his love for magic.”
I think we should take the Path of Peril. On a quest, the clear path is never the right one.
Barley Lightfoot is one of the main characters in the animated fantasy film Onward. He is an eccentric, free-spirited elf and the older brother of Ian Lightfoot. Barley is fascinated by the world of magic and quests, and owns an extensive collection of Role-playing game paraphernalia and magical artifacts.
With his shaggy hair, casual clothes, and collection of offbeat interests, Barley cutting embodies the image of the lovable yet underachieving man-child. His prized possession is the beat-up van "Guinevere" that he has decked out to resemble a medieval battle wagon. Barley fancies himself a "semi-professional adventurer and questing master," spending his days devouring fantasy novels and Dungeons & Dragons-esque role-playing games.
However, Barley's childlike indulgences mask a deeper wellspring of courage, loyalty, and brotherly love that emerges when he and Ian unexpectedly embark on a real-life magical quest. Using a rare Phoenix Gem, they seek to briefly resurface their late father for one last precious day together. Barley serves as the eccentric guide who initiates the fledgling Ian into this world of magic, peril, and high-stakes adventure.
Beneath his nerdy exterior, Barley demonstrates remarkable bravery and resilience when facing the film's fantastical obstacles and fearsome foes. His encyclopedic knowledge of fantasy lore comes in handy for deciphering ancient spells and operating enchanted artifacts. More importantly, his unwavering belief in the magic around them inspires Ian to shed his self-doubt and insecurities.
What makes Barley a truly memorable character is how his childlike sense of wonder and imagination turns out to be a powerful source of strength. His immature zest for adventure initially feels at odds with the high-stakes journey, yet it's precisely this rejection of the mundane that allows the brothers to persevere. Barley's enthusiasm rekindles Ian's dormant spark of creativity that proves crucial for mastering magic.
In many ways, the overgrown kid Barley serves a reminder to hold onto that youthful spark of possibility and reject the rigid boundaries of disbelief. Barley may get carried away sometimes, but his ability to see life through a kaleidoscope of myth and legend makes him a quintessential hero for anyone who refuses to let their imagination wither away.
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Hampers: Festive and Joyous Gifts for Everyone on Your List
Get ready to spread the festive cheer with the perfect gift for everyone on your list - hampers! Packed full of delightful goodies, Melbourne hampers are the ultimate way to show your loved ones that you truly care. Whether it's for family, friends, or colleagues, these joyous bundles of joy are guaranteed to bring a smile to their faces.
With the holiday season fast approaching, there's no better time to start shopping for hampers. Let us help you make this year's celebrations extra special by delivering the perfect gift that will leave a lasting impression. Give the gift of joy with our festive hampers and make this holiday season truly unforgettable.
History and Significance of Hampers During the Festive Season
Hampers have a rich history that dates back centuries. The tradition of giving hampers during the festive season can be traced back to medieval times when they were used to transport food and supplies. These early hampers were made of wicker and were often given to the less fortunate as a form of charity.
Over time, hampers evolved into luxurious gifts filled with gourmet treats and indulgent delights. They became a symbol of abundance and generosity and were commonly exchanged during special occasions such as Christmas and New Year. Today, hampers have become a beloved tradition, bringing joy and excitement to both the giver and the recipient.
Different Types of Hampers Available in the Market
When it comes to hampers, the options are endless. From food and wine hampers to beauty and spa hampers, there is something for everyone. Here are some of the most popular types of hampers available in the market:
Food and Wine Hampers: These hampers are filled with gourmet treats, fine wines, and artisanal products. They are perfect for food lovers and wine enthusiasts who appreciate the finer things in life.
Beauty and Spa Hampers: These Melbourne hampers are filled with luxurious bath and body products, scented candles, and pampering essentials. They are perfect for those who enjoy a little self-care and relaxation.
Chocolate Hampers: These hampers are a chocolate lover's dream come true. Filled with an assortment of high-quality chocolates, they are sure to satisfy even the sweetest tooth.
Coffee and Tea Hampers: For the caffeine lovers in your life, coffee and tea hampers are the perfect choice. They are filled with a variety of gourmet coffee beans, tea blends, and accessories.
Baby Hampers: Celebrate the arrival of a new baby with a specially curated baby hamper. Filled with adorable clothing, soft toys, and baby essentials, these hampers are a thoughtful gift for new parents.
How to Choose the Perfect Hamper for Different Recipients
Choosing the perfect hamper for different recipients can be a daunting task, but with a little thought and consideration, you can find a gift that will truly make their day. Here are some tips to help you choose the perfect hamper:
Consider their Interests and Hobbies: Think about what the recipient enjoys doing in their free time. Do they love cooking? Are they passionate about skincare? Tailor your hamper to their interests and hobbies for a truly personalised gift.
Take Dietary Restrictions into Account: If the recipient has dietary restrictions or allergies, make sure to choose a hamper that is suitable for their needs. Look for hampers that offer gluten-free, vegan, or nut-free options.
Consider the Occasion: Hampers can be given for a variety of occasions, so consider the event when choosing a hamper. For example, a Christmas-themed hamper with festive treats and decorations would be perfect for the holiday season.
Personalise the Hamper: Add a personal touch to your hamper by including a handwritten note or a small gift that is meaningful to the recipient. This will show them that you put thought and effort into choosing their gift.
Remember, the key to choosing the perfect hamper is to consider the recipient's preferences and tastes. By doing so, you can ensure that your gift will be truly appreciated and cherished.
DIY Hamper Ideas and Inspiration
Creating your own DIY hamper is a wonderful way to add a personal touch to your gift. Not only can you customise the contents of the hamper to suit the recipient's preferences, but you can also showcase your creativity and thoughtfulness. Here are some DIY hamper ideas and inspiration to get you started:
Movie Night Hamper: Fill a basket with their favourite DVDs or Blu-rays, microwave popcorn, gourmet snacks, and cozy blankets. Add some movie theater-style candy for an extra touch of authenticity.
Spa Day Hamper: Create a spa-like experience at home with a hamper filled with bath bombs, scented candles, luxurious bath oils, and a plush bathrobe. Include a selection of their favorite skincare products for the ultimate pampering session.
Bookworm Hamper: For the avid reader in your life, create a hamper filled with their favorite books, bookmarks, a reading light, and a cozy throw blanket. Add a selection of gourmet teas or coffees for the perfect reading companion.
Gardening Hamper: If the recipient has a green thumb, create a hamper filled with gardening tools, seeds, gloves, and a gardening book or magazine. Include some decorative planters or pots for a touch of style.
Coffee Lover's Hamper: For the coffee connoisseur, create a hamper filled with specialty coffee beans, a French press or coffee machine, a coffee grinder, and a selection of flavored syrups or chocolates to pair with their brew.
The possibilities are endless when it comes to DIY hampers. Let your imagination run wild and create a gift that is truly unique and meaningful.
Tips for Creating Personalised Hampers
Creating a personalised hamper is all about paying attention to the recipient's preferences and tastes. Here are some tips to help you create a personalized hamper that will leave a lasting impression:
Choose High-Quality Products: Opt for high-quality products that are known for their excellence. This will show the recipient that you value their happiness and well-being.
Consider Their Favorite Brands: If the recipient has a favourite brand or product, include it in the hamper. This will show that you pay attention to their preferences and tastes.
Add a Personal Note: Include a handwritten note expressing your appreciation and well-wishes. This small gesture can make a big impact and show the recipient how much you care.
Customise the Packaging: Personalize the packaging by adding ribbons, bows, or a personalised message. This will make the hamper feel even more special and unique.
Think Outside the Box: Don't be afraid to think outside the box and include unique or unexpected items in the hamper. This will make it stand out and show your creativity.
Remember, the key to creating a personalised hamper is to tailor it to the recipient's preferences and tastes. By doing so, you can create a gift that is truly one-of-a-kind.
Budget-Friendly Options for Hampers
Hampers don't have to break the bank. With a little creativity and resourcefulness, you can create a budget-friendly hamper that will still impress. Here are some tips for creating budget-friendly hampers:
DIY is the Way: Creating your own hamper allows you to control the cost of the contents. Look for affordable yet high-quality products that fit within your budget.
Opt for Homemade Treats: Instead of buying expensive gourmet treats, consider making your own homemade goodies. Baked goods, jams, and preserves can be made at a fraction of the cost.
Shop Smart: Look for deals and discounts when purchasing the items for your hamper. Compare prices and shop around to ensure you're getting the best value for your money.
Focus on Thoughtfulness: Remember, it's the thought that counts. A budget-friendly hamper that is tailored to the recipient's preferences and tastes will be just as appreciated as an expensive one.
Creating a budget-friendly hamper is all about being resourceful and thinking outside the box. With a little creativity, you can create a gift that is both thoughtful and affordable.
Hampers for Specific Occasions
Hampers are a versatile gift that can be given for a variety of occasions. Here are some ideas for hampers for specific occasions:
Christmas Hampers: Fill a hamper with festive treats, Christmas decorations, and small gifts for a truly festive gift. Add a bottle of sparkling wine or champagne to make it extra special.
Birthday Hampers: Create a personalised hamper filled with the recipient's favourite treats, a small gift, and a birthday card. Consider adding a balloon or a birthday candle for an extra touch.
Anniversary Hampers: Celebrate a milestone anniversary with a hamper filled with gourmet chocolates, a bottle of champagne, and a handwritten love note. Include a small gift that is meaningful to the couple.
Thank You Hampers: Show your appreciation with a hamper filled with gourmet snacks, a handwritten thank you note, and a small gift. Consider adding a scented candle or a bath bomb for a touch of relaxation.
Hampers can be tailored to suit any occasion, so don't be afraid to get creative and think outside the box.
Conclusion: Spread Joy with Thoughtful Hampers this Festive Season
Hampers are the perfect gift for spreading joy and showing your loved ones that you care. Whether you choose a pre-curated hamper or create your own DIY masterpiece, the thought and effort put into choosing a hamper will not go unnoticed. From gourmet treats to luxurious bath and body products, hampers offer a little something for everyone.
This festive season, make your celebrations extra special by giving the gift of joy with a hamper. Whether it's for Christmas, a birthday, or a special occasion, Melbourne hampers are guaranteed to bring a smile to the recipient's face. So start shopping for hampers today and make this holiday season truly unforgettable.
Source URL: https://gift-hampers-melbourne.blogspot.com/2024/03/hampers-festive-and-joyous-gifts-for.html
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i'm all for demolishing gender roles (in this post, i'm specifically talking about gender roles in fashion and style), mainly from the standpoint of personal freedom. today however, let me argue for demolishing gender roles from the standpoint of my own gay self-indulgence.
if you're like me, you've had this happen to you many times: you watched a historical movie or a fantasy movie and got a crush on a man with long hair who probably wore some kind of beautiful robe or a cloak or a bunch of ruffles or a korean hanbok or just something that isn't very in line with the gender roles of modern men's clothing in the western society. you thought how incredibly beautiful this actor was and went to google him. and in most cases, you found yourself disappointed – the beautiful, sexy hero (or villain) you wanted more of was actually just... a normal guy in real life. with short hair and wearing a black suit. he wasn't ugly (i don't like calling people ugly), but he lost that spark that made you fall in love with him in the first place. why? because of the difference in style and presentation.
when these men didn't wear their long wigs (or cut their hair) and wore normal, modern clothes, they just weren't attractive to me anymore. this got me thinking. how many men are there, walking the earth, looking like regular guys, who, if they let their hair grow out and wore some ruffles, would turn into the absolute gods of my stupid little gay dreams?
and that's precisely why i'm, in this post today, arguing for ending gender roles. let men explore fashion. let men wear dresses and skirts and big puffy sleeves and delicate embroidery and bows and have long hair and put it in different pretty hairstyles. let them curl their hair or straighten it or color it and put different things into their hair. let them paint their nails and wear make-up and heels and medieval robes and fantasy cloaks and knee-high boots.
let me look at more beautiful men!!
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