Bound By Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen X Seamstress!OC X Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

Next Part

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: To my very lovely and wonderful friend and beta reader Bel, aka @valeskafics, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's! This is the first part of this fic gift I wanted to give you, and I promise the next part will have smut! I hope you like this fic and can feel my love and appreciation for you. Bel, you are one of my favorite writers of all time and a huge reason I began posting fanfics and writing in the first place. I am so grateful that you opened a whole new world for me, and I hope this year gives you lots of happiness.

Warning(s): Slight cursing, Reader's parents were killed, Daemon's an ass, Viserys is a negligent father, Westeros is Westeros, dysfunctional family shenanigans

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known to be many things. Proud. Serious. Studious. All things one should be proud of in a young man’s position. Every single one of his teachers and wet nurses sung praises of the young prince since he began to toddle. And although it might seem cruel to admit it, the second prince was the apple of the Queen’s eye and the clear favorite of her four children.

Her sweet Aemond was a mild, studious young boy who practiced his faith in the Seven despite his blood lineage belonging to the Old Gods of Valryia. Besides Aegon, he had always been respectful to his siblings–especially to his elder sister, Helaena. Aemond would often humor his sister’s strange ramblings and gift her with little creatures he found as he wandered the ancient walls of the Red Keep. Helanea, despite all her reclusiveness, only seemed comfortable enough to be touched with her younger brother and often offered comfort whenever he complained about how unfair it was that he still had no dragon. His sister was as fond of her younger brother as he was of her and would usually humor his requests.

Except now.

“Please?” Aemond had been pleading for over an hour, reaching a point where most would pity him.

“No,” replied his sister sternly, “I’ve already told you my answer won’t change.”

“But why?” he pathetically asked as his voice cracked. It was good that Aegon was still in his room, too drunk to start the day. Aemond would never have lived it down without allowing his brother to see him like this. “I won’t ask for anything else from you, I swear it.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But why?” demanded Aemond. “I would never harm (Y/N). Name one person in the Seven Kingdoms who would treat her better than I?”

Too upset by his sister’s refusal, the prince stormed out of the room in a near-blind rage.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no noblewoman or someone with any particularly wealthy connections or background. You weren’t even someone born within the Walls in the North.

No, you were from a tribe of wildings that hailed outside the Wall and were brought within the borders after your parents were caught stealing. The Starks decided to spare when they realized their daughter was just a tiny child with an incredible talent for storytelling. Within a year, the tales that Y/N wove with her tongue had reached the ears of Aemond’s father, King Viserys of House Targaryen. The King was fascinated by the young girl beyond the Wall, who spun tales of giants and spirits from the Land of Always Winter. He spared no expense in bringing you to King’s Landing.

Aemond could remember the day so clearly, as you arrived very shortly after his bastard nephew took his eye in Driftmark, and his father did nothing but protect his whore of a half-sister. When brought into the keep, you could hardly present yourself to a room full of nobles, let alone the King. You stood before his father and family barefoot and filthy. Your clothes looked closer to rags and torn cloth, and your (h/c) mane was wild with a few braids and feathers. But that hardly mattered. As soon as you opened your mouth, it was as if everyone in the Great Hall had been transported to another world.

The story you told started with a young princess given a toy soldier named the “Nussknacker.” The young princess loved her little toy soldier so much that her sweet Nussknacker came to life one night. He told the princess a prince to a winter wonderland full of fairies, sugar plums, and magic. His home had been overtaken by a maniacal Rattenkönig, and he turned the prince into his current form. The soldier and princess had to face many trials, but they were successful in defeating the evil Rattenkönig and saving the prince’s kingdom. The Nussknacker turned back into the handsome prince he had always been, and he and the princess married to lead his kingdom into prosperity.

By the time you finished telling your story, the Royal court went ablaze with applause. Your pretty words and skillful tongue enraptured every noble. They longed to hear more of your stories and were starved for entertainment. His father was in an especially jolly mood after hearing your tale. He immediately appointed you as the troubadour of the Royal Court held in protection under the Royal Targaryen House. A proclamation that horrified both the king’s Hand and the Queen, to say the least. It was no secret that Aemond’s mother and grandfather did not look favorably on you. More than once, he heard his mother seethe in anger at the attention her husband gave to you as you sat beside him during his father’s pain flares. In her eyes, you were a savage hellion who likely spread her legs up from the Wall in the North to the Great Hall of the Red Keep in the South.

But in Aemond’s eyes, you were an angel. It was not only his father’s pain you soothed with your stories, but also his own. He tried his best to keep his distance from you, but it wasn’t long until you gained his sister’s favor. From then on, whenever he spotted Helaena, you were by her side. The tall and icy walls he tried to maintain around you came crashing down before he knew it. His mother so loved him because he always did as she instructed, including to remain far away from the new child from beyond the North.

But one night, the scar on his eye had been so painful that he gained a fever that lasted for nearly a week. The maesters weren’t sure if he would survive the sickness, as it was a result of his lost eye being inflamed. His mother had resigned herself to crying by his bedside while his sister would sit with him and talk about her day. But one night, when he was delirious with pain, you somehow managed to sneak in from one of the secret tunnels within the keep’s walls. He couldn’t see you, but he recognized your voice. He wanted to scream for you to leave his room, threatening that he would call over the guards standing outside. But then you spoke, and it seemed as if his world of pain had just washed away. You spoke to him about the history of Old Valyria and the beautiful tales of dragons and knights that were lost in time. This continued on every night during his ailment.

“Do you miss your parents?” Aemond asked you one night. But he immediately regretted his question when he saw how your shoulders tensed.

“Sometimes,” you replied after a few moments of silence, “I understand that they are in a better place, wherever they are. But sometimes I wish they were here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“But you have Helaena to be with you. Even my father adores your company.”

You only scoffed in response.

“Helaena is wonderful,” you bitterly continued, “I am glad to have a friend as sweet and kind as her in this poisonous hellhole you call home. But your father-” you paused a moment to lick your lips to figure out how to phrase your thoughts – “all he sees me as is a toy. A commodity. A funny little object that he bought to entertain him. He never mistreated me but does not respect me as a person, let alone as a subject.”

The tears in your eyes welled to the point where they almost spilled, and you immediately stopped talking to prevent further incriminating yourself.

“You have no idea what it’s like-” you let out a bitter laugh before continuing to cry – “to have your family taken away from you. To watch your parents be executed before your eyes when you were only a small child. And for what? Stealing a loaf of stale bread? What should that matter to the Starks? They have their pretty castle with warm fires and fur blankets. My mother and father worked for everything they had in order to care for me. Now here I am, away from the silver winter I called home and stuck in the shit-odor that covers precious South.”

“However much you hate your family, at least you still have them. I have no one. No one to share my culture and past with, no one to understand your customs and way of life. Call my parents whatever you want. Savages. Thieves. Scum. But they loved me. However little it was, they taught me to be proud of myself. They were my whole life, and now they’re gone.”

You ran out of his chambers and back into the wall. Aemond didn’t see you for several days, even after his fever broke and the maesters told his mother he would live. Two weeks passed, and Aemond felt as if he were going mad. When he finally spotted you in one of the more secluded areas of the library, he grabbed your arm before you could scurry off.

“Tell me,” he told you. “Tell me everything about your parents, your home. Tell me about how the air was clean and clear. Tell me about how everywhere you looked, you saw white snow and clear ice. Tell me how much you loved your family, pets, friends – if you had any. I don’t care what it is. Tell me everything.”

At first, you only stared. He couldn’t tell if you were furious or in shock. But soon, your eyes lit up as if you had been given five hundred gold dragons.

“Where do you want me to start?” you asked him, eyes wide with joy and a heart finally learning to trust.

Lo and behold, he found his heart beginning to feel the same.

“Wherever you want.”

The smile you gave him was worth more than all the money locked within the Royal Treasury.

So many nights since that day, you would sit by his bedside, speaking so prettily that even the most brutal of their acts and customs fascinated Aemond. You would burn the midnight oil, telling him about the adventures and raids of the Free People beyond the Wall. That’s how you referred to yourself as a “free woman.” While you despised the title “savage,” you did not mind being labeled as “wilding.” You claimed that since you were born outside the Wall, the laws of Westeros did not apply to you. You have been seen as wild, but you knew in your heart that you were born free. And what was more impressive to Aemond was how you honestly and sincerely believed that you were born as a free woman.

He saw it in the way you would make little shadow puppets shows to bring a smile from Daeron after it was announced that he would leave for Oldtown.

He heard it in how you got the cooks to spit on your name after stealing bread from kitchens and then giving it to the small folk children living in impoverished areas of Flea Bottom.

He smelt it in how your hair would always smell like the wind in the Godswood to ride his horse when you were supposed to be learning your letters with the Head Septa.

He tasted it when you let him take a sip of that rotten ale you made in secret when you went through one of your horrible bouts of homesickness.

He felt it in how you raced to his chambers to hug him after he woke up from another nightmare of the memory of that night when he lost his right eye.

You were the strangest mystery Aemond had ever and will ever know. No matter how long he spent searching for answers in his favorite corner of the library, Aemond could never understand how someone with a heart as warm as (Y/N) could come from the frozen wasteland she loved to call home.

With a single but powerful stroke of his blade, Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s upper jaw fell as the rest of his body dropped to the floor. Visenya’s Dark Sister had once more bathed in its victim’s blood. Gasps and shrieks filled the Great Hall at the sight of dark blood oozing from his corpse. The members of the Royal members all had varying reactions. From his mother’s side, Helaena immediately covered her eyes and turned away – utterly horrified by the swift mutilation. Aegon grimaced but was otherwise unaffected. Not surprising. He’d seen similar carnage from the illegal fight rings run in Flea Bottom. Aemond took a slight step back in shock as he gaped at the now-deceased lord in mild admiration.

He had no idea tongues were so long.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood before his ailing brother, tall and proud. There was not a twinge of remorse or regret on his youthful visage as he towered over the spilled blood soaking his boots. Undoubtedly, this man carried the blood and fire of the proud dragons that graced their house.

“He can keep his tongue.”

Brutish as Daemon was known to be, Aemond respected his uncle’s instinct to remove objects that voiced slander against his wife. However much of a whore his half-sister may be, she was still of royal blood and their father’s firstborn.

However, he wasn’t sure how much that last fact mattered, considering how she spread her legs to swill only to produce bastards as her heirs.

His grandfather ordered the Kingsguards to disarm his uncle, but Daemon only scoffed as he wiped the blood off his ancient blade with an old rag. Moments later, Aemond’s decaying father collapsed on the Iron Throne in exhaustion after over-exerting himself. His mother immediately rushed over to aid him when she heard his pained groans.

“Call the Maesters!” she shouted before reaching him. And when his father fell into her arms, that was the first time Aemond saw you throughout this entire proceeding.

You stood close to the walls, remaining present but unseen. It was not until his father called for you by his side that he removed you from your hiding place. You and an apprentice Maester took Viserys to his chambers, leaving behind his wife, children, grandchildren, and every member of the Royal Court. As Aemond watched you carry his hobbling sire to his chambers – likely to recite to him a passage of the History of Old Valyria or one of the many tales surrounding Queen Visenya’s practice of the dark arts – his blood froze as he noticed Daemon’s gaze was focused not on his brother, but on you.

An hour had passed since Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s unfortunate passing, and Aemond was still no closer to finding you. He felt as if he was going mad in desperation. He checked everywhere. The kitchens, catching you sneak bites of freshly baked honey cakes. The stables, to find you feeding the mares and stallions carrots and apples. Your chambers, spying through the keyhole as you sat at your desk writing new stories. He even went so far as to ride to the dragonpit, hoping that you were reading to Vhagar again. He was close to announcing an order to search for you to the closest Kingsguard when he spotted you standing underneath the Heartstree. When another figure approached you, the one-eyed prince was about to call out your name.

Daemon. And judging by the way his violet eyes leered at your womanly form, it was clear to Aemond that this meeting was no coincidence. Aemond stepped out of view and pressed himself close to the garden’s entrance. The silver-tressed prince cursed himself for not publicly claiming you so everyone knew you were his and his alone. Differences in stations mattered little when you grew up so beautifully.

A fact he was sure that did not go unnoticed by his uncle despite meeting you for the first time.

Not for the first time did Aemond find himself cursing the gods for creating perfection in a single woman. Time had been unkind to many but seemed to spare you of any misfortune. While you were far from the polished and perfect image of a proper lady, you slowly but surely assimilated yourself to life in the South of the Wall. You traded your hides and furs for dresses and trousers. Your wild (h/c) mane became untangled by his sister’s ladies-in-waiting frequent brushings. Regular meals and proper care took a starving child with sharp, bony jabs to a woman with soft, feminine curves and beauty rivaling the Maiden herself.

“How have you found your time so far from the wall, little wilding?”

“I spent every waking second soaked and flushed from sweat and heat. To make it worse, I can’t escape the shit and piss that stains and bathes your pretty keep. Tell me, does that answer your question, my prince?”

Daemon barked a short laugh, amused that his brother took in someone so clearly different from the court’s usual vultures.

“When I heard my brother had taken in a little girl from outside the wall as his little entertainer, I was expecting a hobbled cripple caked in dirt with no sign of grooming. But here you stand, appearing more like a proper lady than a savage wildling.”

“You can take the girl from the North, but you can never take the North from the girl.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

Aemond smiled at your quick wit and tongue. You were still every bit of the girl dragged before his father when he was only ten name-days old, even if you changed a little bit.

You still styled your hair with the little braids commonly worn in the North, but sometimes, he would catch Helaena tucking feathers in your locks.

You still carried your father’s old hunting knife on your person, but you also kept the Valyrian steel dagger Aemond gave you on Yuletide Eve from three years past.

You still made frequent trips to pass the bread to the small folk in Flea Bottom; you always made sure to help lead Aegon back to his bed after he drank himself stupidly.

It was a challenge, but you’ve adapted and made a life here with the Royal Family, whether you liked it or not.

“Do you ever plan on coming out from behind the wall, my prince? Or do you plan on renouncing your title and becoming Master of Whispers on your father’s small council?”

Realizing that his cover has been blown, Aemond brought himself in view to face the wildling girl who had stolen his heart almost eight years ago. He was relieved that his uncle had left the gardens, probably to inseminate his half-sister once more. It was as if she needed more children to convince all of King’s Landing that her claim on his brother’s throne was legitimate and valid. It did not matter that the evidence of her whorish nature was growing before their eyes.

“Careful, my lady,” replied Aemond, “one might think your words as treason towards the prince.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “the only people who continue to insist on taming my tongue are your mother and grandfather. And we both know my opinions of both parties.” Your cheeks began to flush, and your demeanor grew shy as you whispered your following words. “Besides, why would I need to be afraid of anything when I have you?”

Oh, how his cold, bitter heart grew ten times warmer with your sweet words. He removed his black riding gloves, reached for your hands, and was taken aback by how cold your skin felt against his own.

As if afraid of his voice, he cradled your hands softly as if he were the hunter and you were a little snow rabbit on the edge of running away. Your unblinking observation persisted as you silently watched your silver-haired prince raised both of your hands to his pink lips. He took in a deep breath before exhaling out. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent chills down your back. His mouth was opened just enough for you to see his tongue, bringing a deep sense of shame to wash over you as you dreamed of how good it would feel to have his tongue feast on your cunt.

“What possessed you to come outside without a cloak?” The low timbres of his voice broke you from your lust as you just now realized that you brought yourself into his trap. “It is already winter (Y/n). You could grow sick if you are not careful.”

“You forget yourself, Aemond,” you replied, tearing your hands from his grip. You almost wept at how profoundly you felt the loss of his warmth. When did his hands become so rough and big? “I have the true North in my veins. Such meek and pitiful clouds and winds could never get me ill.”

“Why were you outside at all?” Aemond had hoped to find you in one of the rooms with a fire roaring inside. Even if you were not alone, you would have been warm.

“Thinking about home, I suppose. I was tiny, but I would help gather whatever wood was available and put it in a big pile. We would put on our ceremonial furs and robes, along with masks we painted from the skulls of our kills. After that, the adults would drink themselves stupid on ale and heated yak’s milk as they and the children would gather around the wood pile and then burn it. I remember dancing with my parents around the fire as we sang praises for the old gods and yelled out prayers for the sun. A few boys would probably try to sneak some kisses from the girls with mistletoe.”

The silence that followed only added to the tension.

“I think I would have been stolen by now.”

“Stolen?”

“Your Southerners version of ‘marriage,’ I suppose,” you stated as you lightly shrugged, “at my age, if you weren’t stolen, it meant that something was wrong with you. If I remained with my tribe, some man would have stolen me by now and pumped me full of his babies.”

Aemond saw red. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles further paled to an almost translucent view of his veins as he imagined some savage, wildling man forcing himself on you. He wanted to ride Vhaghar beyond the North, if only reaching beyond the Wall and burning it all to the ground. No man other than him was allowed to touch you. He had only touched your hand and already decided that the rest of you belonged to him and him alone.

Taking a few steps closer to you, he removed his leather patch and lifted your chin between his fingers to force your focus on him. His ears caught a slight intake of breath when you saw his sapphire eye as he was so close that he could practically feel your heart racing in anticipation. He preened in satisfaction when he caught your perfect (e/c) irises dart down to his lips before resting his face again. Aemond didn’t need to look down to know that you were clenching your thighs in an attempt to stop your arousal from leaking.

His sister’s approval be damned.

If your traditions dictated that you must be ‘stolen’ to be a wife, then he would be the one to steal you.

“Sweet (Y/n), you’ve grown so cold.”

Do you wish to go back?

His face was so close to yours that you could feel breaths mix with your own. You could smell the fine leather of his tunic, and the fragrance of spices from his silvery locks wrapped you in a blanket of comfort. His violet eye’s gaze showed a vulnerability lost since that night in Driftmark. The night when he gained a dragon at the cost of becoming a cripple. If Aemond was to risk everything he’s worked for, he had to know.

Would you, a Free Woman, let yourself be called as his?

“No, my Aemond” - you took his hands in yours to tenderly kiss his knuckles- “not anymore.”

I am right where I belong.

And he believed you.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade , @faesspace, @its-actually-minicika, @aphroditesmoon, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @leavemeoutofitlay

Crass Family Moodboards & Headcanons

These are moodboards and headcanons for the Crass Family in my Snowbaird AU story, "Feathers & Threads Soaked in Red." I also plan to make some for the Snow Family and the Covey in District 12. If you are curious after reading these, please visit this page and read the story!

Icarus Magnus Crass - played by Richard Madden

Icarus Magnus Crass is the Head of the House of Crass. He was an only child and had an extremely strict upbringing.

Before his current position as Secretary of Defense, he was the youngest soldier to quickly rise to the rank of General.

Icarus was groomed to be the next president by his father should the elderly President Ravinstill have an "unfortunate" demise

He lived an extremely isolated childhood - his education consisted of private tutors before attending the Academy & University

His only comforts in his childhood were Sephia Rose & his piano

Had a long-term engagement to an obscenely wealthy heiress before he went public of his relationship with Sephia Rose and was sent to the military

When he married Sephia Rose, in his vows he told her: "I was born to love you."

He would often use the secret tunnels to watch Sephia Rose sleep when she first came to the manor - he had never met anyone so different and pretty.

Icarus is someone who had every opportunity to grab power, but he chose happiness. In choosing love, he lived a fulfilling life with a wife who he loved more than anything and was blessed with children he would give his life for in a heartbeat. He is who Snow could have been if Coryo had just been medicated.

Sephia Rose/Kore Hayes - played by Haley Bennett

To the Capitol's Elite, she is Kore Hayes. But to herself and her family, only then can she be Sephia Rose.

She and Icarus have built a life together in the capitol, where she is the mother of three children with all Covey names.

Sephia was very scared of Icarus when they first met as children - she didn't know if she was safe around Capitol children.

But she and him quickly got along after he would show her his piano and even play a song of an old lullaby.

Before she founded her clothing brand "Lis et Rose", she modeled for some of the most exclusive clothing brands in the Capitol and even found ways to model her own clothes.

When Icarus enlisted in the military, she presented offerings in the garden to pray for his protection

During the war, she would write letters to Icarus every day while he was on the war front, and she always place a kiss at the end of each letter.

SHe made sure that he children knew all her Covery's skills, including how to garden and cook.

Sephia Rose lived an incredibly harrowing life. But her resilience for hope had helped her find light in the darkest of tunnels. She never lost touch with her roots and often told her children stories of her childhood. She is grateful every day for the love that blossomed between her and her husband.

Laurus Orion Crass - played by Josha Stradowski

Laurus Orion Crass, or Laurie, is the firstborn to Icarus and Sephia Rose and heir to the Crass House and fortune.

Because of his position, Laurie always had a lot of pressure placed on him due to society's expectations for him to be a military man like his father.

He knows that he is very fortunate to have such incredible role models for parents who only gave him support and love while teaching him how to exercise caution

He was a premature baby by almost 4 weeks and had to be placed in the ICU due to his lungs not being fully developed and still sometimes has asthma attacks

Before his godmother died, he would often play at her office whenever he visited due to his health issues as a baby, and this inspired him to want to become a surgeon.

He learned the piano from his father, and it would serve as a great way for them to bond when he came home from work.

He is very proud of the name his mother gave him - Laurus, which means victory, and Orion was his dad's favorite constellation.

Laurie is not a fan of Casca Highbottom - he noticed at a very young age that the Dean would always stay too close to his mother whenever they came in for parent-teacher meetings.

Laurie Orion is no stranger to the Capitol's dangers and hypocrisies and makes it his personal goal to fulfill his godmother's wish of establishing clinics in the districts before her "death." He may or may not have a crush on a particular girl he met in District 4. He is Sejanus Plinth if the boy had some goddamn impulse control.

Agalia Iris Crass - played by Annalise Basso

Agalia Iris Crass is the second eldest and only daughter of Icarus and Sephia Rose.

Because of how much she looks like her mom, her father had always been very protective over her

Agalia was born right before the war broke out - just enough time for her father to cry at her birth.

Ambition + Moxie - she has dreams of becoming a principal ballet dancer by her early 20s.

Her endless curiosity and good heart remind Sephia Rose of Kaety Amaryllis - Aggie often wishes she could remember her godmother.

Like her brother, she takes a lot of pride in her name - irises symbolize hope and valor, and Agalia means joy.

She first remembered dancing at five when her mother sang Lavender's Blue to her baby brother.

She designed and made all her costumes since her very first recital and even crocheted all her sweaters and cardigans.

Aggie Iris is the kind of girl who will fool you with her sweet smile and pretty eyes only to tear you apart with her spitfire spirit. While she despises the inhumane nature of the Hunger Games, she still has a little bit of anger towards the rebels since they "killed" her godmother. While she doesn't remember what she looks like, she swears that she can hear her voice every time she plays her music box.

Arcturus 'Arthur' Lucus Crass - played by kid on pinterest

Arcturus Lucus Crass, or Arthur, is the second son and youngest child of Icarus and Sephia Rose.

The sweetest kid you will ever meet in the history of the world - he's also the most likely to accidentally wander off (his parents got him a leash)

Nature kid with the greenest thumb - he will spend hours on hours with his mom in the greenhouse

Out of all the kids, his temperament and behavior most resemble their mother.

Every animal will fight to the death to protect this kid - every single one of Dr. Gaul's mutts loves him.

Speaking of animals, he has a penchant for walking in public like any animal from ages 2-6, and the leash only encouraged him.

Fell in love with crocheting when he did it with Aggie and Sephia Rose - now he has a playground equivalent to the black market for his toys.

His name was in dedication to his birthplace - the grove filled with amaryllis flowers in his family's garden his mother made to honor her Lillycat.

Arthur Lucus may be a bit naive, but he is not stupid. He's his parents' son after all, and although he is young he does know that there are people who want to hurt the people he loves. But he has a heart so big he loves the whole world, and he even has a fairy godmother who tries to help him in a distant wood when she can.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @mitsuki91, @tatumrileyslover, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @agir1ukn0w, @imsofuckingdonewiththisgoddamn, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @musical-theatre-gay

Please like and reblog and/or comment!

Wip tag games!

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for the tag @mitsuki91 🥰

Fandom(s):

MCU: Eternals

Persephone!Eternal!Reader & Hecate!Eternal!Reader - more of a series of oneshots for this AU. Click on this masterlist if you are interested!

"The Adventures of Loca, Blanquita, and Poco" - also part of the above masterlist, but it includes OC children of Hecate!Reader and Druig. This takes place AFTER the emergence.

Some of these are more serious, while some are more stupid.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

"Feathers & Threads Soaked in Red" - Angsty Snowbaird AU with the addition of an ARMY of OCs. Some dark themes and a LOT of angst. Do not read if you are a minor.

I am very excited about this fic! This one adds a lot of lore to the Covey, or at least I tried to add a lot of lore to the Covey. I am also making a post of moodboards for the OCs along with some headcanons.

House of the Dragon

"Bound by Embroidered Chains" - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon. Ewan Mitchell has everyone in this fandom by their THROAT.

"Warmth & Stories" - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader. This part will have smut.

The first one has serious themes and a bi-coded OC, while the second is very fluffy.

The Originals/The Vampire Diaries

I haven't figured out a title for this one, but basically it's an idea about Henrik coming back from the dead when the Other Side collapsed and he managed to stay alive. He seeks out Caroline Forbes to help him return to Klaus in NOLA.

Kol & Hecate!Reader (same one from the eternals au I wrote) - Kol basically finds a better family and teacher than his siblings

Ansel is kept alive (magical baby plot? who's she?) and Klaus tells him to watch over Caroline's mom in Mystic Falls. Liz Forbes and Ansel may or may not end up...involved

I do not support Julie Plec's lady boner for the neanderthal that is Damon Salvatore. So, if you want me to write this out, pls keep this in mind.

And that's all I can really think of!

I will tag @valeskafics , @dreaming-for-an-escape , @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @lady-ashfade, @ethereal-athalia, @starogeorgina, @sylasthegrim, and anyone else who wants to join!

You don't even need to be a writer to play this game! It could also be an idea that you think is neat, and you just want to swap some thoughts!

Wip tag games!

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for the tag @soopsiedaisies 🥰

Fandom:

Harry Potter

"Until the end of the world", time!travel Severus Snape/Lily Luna Potter. It's on ao3, only italian for now, a monster story and one day I will finish it :v

"Tomorrow", time!travel Severus Snape/Lily Luna Potter. It's on ao3, only italian for now.

"The hunter", only the translation is a wip, it's a dead dove very very very dead about new gen.

"L'uomo del ritratto" ("The man of the portait"), time!travel Severus Snape/Lily Luna Potter. It's on ao3, only italian for now.

... So I had a format I see 😂 anyway some stories are more serious and some more idiot.

The ballad of songbirds and snaked

In the serie "The play of songbirds and snakes" I have the wip of the wedding ("Until the end of the night" etc) and after that I have three more short stories to write in this universe.

"Blooming in the snow" (don't know if I will use this title) is the angsty Snowbaird, I wrote only one chapter and I am still plotting (also I am exploring more characters and I love it)

It's only in my mind and has no title or a serious plot yet, but it's the Coriolanus/Lucy Gray/Sejanus one u.ù

... And that's it I suppose. I have more plot in my mind (expecially HP ones) but I don't think I will write anything else in the near future... I am all for Snowbaird now.

I will tag @giosnape @postmariannizm @cdragons and I don't remember yet other users who write but if you write Snowbaird pls let me know 😭

Revenant

Summary: Kol Mikaelson's soul manages to leave and travel while he still remains daggered in his coffin. While he wanders around and bitches about his life, he meets an unexpected friend. Warning(s): VERY HEAVY crack fic, technical crossover of fandoms, weird shit, Kol is a horny-ass gremlin, Druig & Kaety are obsessed with each other, Kol has a thing for witches bc he got mommy issues, Klaus is a bitch

Note: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it! This fic came from an idea that I shared with @ethereal-athalia, and it is VERY much a crack fic. I don't have any plans in continuing this idea, but I wanted to write it out as a Christmas gift to @ethereal-athalia for how much of a good friend she's been to me. I never would have been able to do any of my fics without her in my corner. I own only my Hecate!OC. I do not own either Druig from Eternals, or Kol from TVD franchise. Also, Druig still very much exists in this fic and world bc I physically CANNOT write Kaety without Druig. Stay safe and hope that your upcoming year brings you all good health and happiness!

Kol hated being dead. Truly dead. Dead in a way that he couldn’t move or speak or live.

At least when he turned as a gift Mother Dearest he could still walk, even if he couldn’t use the arcane anymore. But of course, he would still always find his way back to witches and their magic. He couldn’t help it if he exuded that charm that made him so irresistible.

Gods, just remembering how pathetically sex-deprived his physical form was currently almost made him weep. He couldn’t wait until the moment he got that fucking silver dagger out of his chest. Nik was going to get it when he finally got out.

Sure, he may have crossed a line when he stated that Nik had a pair of buttocks flatter than a sheet of paper. But was he the one that gave his brother such lacking assets? No. That fault lied entirely with their mother and his biological father, thank you very much.

But alas, here his soul was, walking in a forest in the middle of some mosquito-flooded country.

At the very least, his gorgeous body was safe from the onslaught of bug bites and sweltering humidity. Only in the fucking Amazon did winter feel like summer.

Kol audibly groaned once more at the thought of his immaculate figure rotting away thanks to Nik. He couldn’t bear to think about how his illustrious fair skin being that dull grayish hue from being confined by death. At least when Bekah got daggered, Nik had the decency to make sure that her body remained stored in proper conditions and carefully encased in magic to prevent any harm coming to her. He had no guarantee. No, such love and devotion only went to ‘Lijah and Bekah when it came to Nik.

Story of his life: always an outsider, even with his own fucking siblings. Gods, he wanted nothing more than have his powers return to him. At least with magic by his side he’d finally be able to show Nik he wasn’t the only one with threats, he’d show him, he’d –

“Well, well, well,” came a new voice, “aren’t you a strange sight?”

Kol immediately turned his head to locate the mindless idiot that dared to interrupt his thoughts. Did humans devolve so pathetically that they no longer understood that when they see a soul wandering alone, that soul would likely be uninterested in any attempts of conversation? But looking at the individual who spoke to him, he was shocked beyond himself to witness such a devastatingly gorgeous woman before him. She had dark almond-shaped eyes and tall with legs that went on for miles. And her thick and illustrious raven waves practically flowed down the middle of her back like a black waterfall.

Dare he say it, this woman was almost as beautiful than him.  

But regardless of how pleasing her outward appearance may be, she still would not be spared from his fury.

Pity, he would have loved to wrap those legs around his waist if he were actually here.

The corners of the woman’s lips went upward, and the cupid’s bow of her mouth was slightly pursed as she smirked, making her lips look plumper and more bitable than how they had right to be in the Original’s opinion. It was only a few seconds before the succubus burst out laughing. Her entire body arched with her back as she simply couldn’t contain herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said once he began to calm down, “but I’m afraid that I happen to be very happily married. In fact, I have been for the past near seven thousand years.” After making a quick glance up and down Kol’s near transparent form, she continued with a cat-like grin. “And I highly doubt someone as woefully young as you could satisfy a woman like me.”

Oh, now he was offended. Not being able to satisfy– did this woman have any idea who she was talking to? The list of names of men and women that swore they only believed in Heaven when Kol fucked them was so long that it would wrap the Earth twice. And she better believe than each time was more than consensual – they were begging him very enthusiastically to say the least. Who was this lady to assume –

Wait, did she say seven thousand years?

As if she could hear his thoughts, all the woman did was smiled before extending her hand.

“I think I’d like it very much if you and I became friends.”

Extending his own, Kol was surprised to see that his hand didn’t just pass through like it normally would for most physical objects. He could actually grasp her hand and feel the warmth passing through it. For the first time in…forever, Kol felt warmth flooding through him. He stared into her eyes, wondering how on Earth someone could live for seven thousand years. Even if she had the gift of mediumship, his presence was too well-hidden for even the most gifted and powerful medium to sense him.

Kol had to know more of her. He’d go mad if he didn’t.

“What are you exactly?” he carefully asked.

He could sense that this person was a being of extreme power. In the top of her finger, she likely contained far more power than Nik could possibly imagine, even in his wildest dreams. It seemed that being an invisible soul floating in the wind had its perks after all. If he was alive, walking and about, he’d never come across this marvel of a woman.

“I’d prefer if you began that question with ‘who’ than ‘what,’ but I suppose that matters little in this situation. My name is Kaetlyn, I prefer Kaet for my friends, but you may know me better as-”

“Hekate,” he whispered in awe, “Goddess of Magic. Titaness Mother of Witches and Monsters.”

“Surprised in a good way I hope?” Kaet asked with one brow raised.

“More or less, but I did imagine you about 30 feet taller with the night sky for skin and two more heads.”

“Well,” she softly chuckled, “I hope I didn’t disappoint you with my appearance. Now I’ll forgive you just this once for interrupting me. But only if you allow me to take you to my home.”

“Oh?” Kol asked, a salacious grin spreading across his face. Now things were getting interesting.

“Save it Kol Mikaelson-” ordered the ancient goddess as she raised her hand to her face as she pointed at him in warning- “I am taking you to the village that I run with my husband. So, I suggest that you keep your hands to yourself because he has a nasty little habit of being showing exactly how off-limits I am to youngsters such as yourself.”

“I never told you my-”

“You were once a witch, and I am the mother of magic. All witches and their magic came from me, including you.”

It really was so unfair how good she looked while talking over him. Oh well, he might as well play along. Finally, something interesting was happening in his life.

“So, who is this husband of yours, darling? And how can you be so sure that your husband could be a threat to me? You know who I am, what I became. What makes you so sure that once I enter your village, I won’t use my ghostly ways to end him.”

When Kol finished, he immediately felt a shift in the air. It was as if the sun had disappeared and the jungle went silent. It seemed that the animals that served as their audience went dead silent as if they were in anticipation for his end. The kind and amiable mirth of the chthonic witch shifted to dangerous and cold.

Kol had lived for over 700 years and after everything he done and witnessed, he had never felt such chill run down his spine.

“Listen well,” she began – her tone laced with the power and authority that came from someone of her position, “I won’t try to humor you with answering that ridiculous question, nor do I intend to let you presume that my kindness can be mistaken for naivety. My husband is one with abilities as ancient and powerful as mine. If you truly knew what he was capable of, you’d be far more terrified of him than you ever were of your father. That being said, if you ever try to threaten my husband or even think about go so far to joke about it again, I promise you that I can produce torture and incite fear that would make the devil weep in pity for you.”

Oh fuck, even as a ghost, Kol should not have been as aroused by her threats as he was in that moment.

But soon the tension dissipated and warmth from the sun returned to pass through him once more.

“Now that we have that matter cleared up, we really should get going. The sun’s about to set and you never know what or who would be lurking at night.”

With that being the final word, The Good Lady of the Night and Shadows turned around and made her way back to where he presumed to be the location of her home village. And what else could he do but follow her by how the slight sway of her hips seemed to beckon him.

Threats and chills mixed a beautiful witch with magic more ancient than time itself, Kol couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive.

Authors' Note: And when Kol enters the village, he tries to flirt with Kaet in front of Druig like a dumbass, and his soul gets a major ass-whooping.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @klauslove, @carolineforbae, @misssophiachase

Reblog and comment and like and share to anyone you think may like to read this fic!

I think between shippers (and this is me saying this, an outsider to both ships) there’s Def the nagging voice saying “Coriolanus sucks irl” in everyone’s mind

So that’s Def a part of the civility in my opinion. Like why fight when the main guy in your ship is the worst guy alive. Bonding moment IG lol

LMFAO You are so right, Anon. Bonding moment for real. As some people in the post's comment said, "we both share the toxic blond" and also "we're trauma-bonded".

But I think it's not really a nagging voice. We all know Coriolanus Snow fucking SUCKS. If you compile all of my thoughts about him from everywhere, the majority is me clowning on him actually. I want to do violence to him.

It's funny, and I'm sorry for the out of topic, but this...wish makes me fantasising about a "Coriolanus Snow & Conscience!Reader" Crack AU. I've told some of my friends but just for fun I will tell a little bit here:

Okay, the premise is right in Chapter 1, we the readers/the fans whatever you wanna call us, get inside his head and it's up to us to try to put him on a good(?) path. (Emphasis on TRY.) Or actually, it's just an excuse or catharsis for us, especially me, to clown him in his head tho, because his thoughts are so deranged, yeah? It will be fun to mock him, tease him, and "scold" him, and we will bicker a lot, and he can't do aaanything about it.

So it's like this (below has some real excerpt of Chapter 1 of the book [page 3-4] but switched to present tense):

This morning he went to her room at daybreak, only to find both his cousin and the shirt missing. Not a good sign. [...] He thinks of people putting a price on her. With her long, pointed nose and skinny body, Tigris is no great beauty, but she has a sweetness, a vulnerability that invites ab-- NOOOOOOOOO! WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT YOUR OWN COUSIN?! The voice -- scream -- comes out of nowhere and echoes very near in his ears (inside him?). To say it surprises Coriolanus is an understatement. Grabbing on air, he fails to stop himself from slipping and falling on his bottom.

Lol.

I'm not sure I want to write it because writing, even more in English, is daunting, but it's really fun to think about. It will be on the Snowbaird route, though. I imagine we will follow his love story with Lucy Gray, but I think...we will unfortunately fight over her.

LOOK! At Lucy Gray's arrival, The Voice screeches annoyingly loud in his head. It's my girl! Even after weeks, Coriolanus still hasn't decided if The Voice is a crazy part of him or an entirely separate entity somehow attached to his mind. However, the possessive term it used tugs the wrong string deep in his chest. Whether it makes sense or not, he hisses at it, 'She's not your girl.' The brief silence that follows is the most peace he gets these recent days. Oh shit, you are jealous. 'I am not.' You totally are. Just like with Billy Taupe. C'mon, I'm inside your head. I know. 'I am not.' Listen, Coryo-- 'Stop calling me that.' --just accept that Lucy Gray is everyone's girl, okay? She's my girl. She's not really just yours. 'Who in the Gem of Panem is everyone? Who even are you?' I can't tell you that. It's against the rules. 'What rules?!' Uh-uh, still can't tell. Give it up already, Coryo. Coriolanus is losing his mind. He has had a talking creature inside his head for weeks and it is just now he truly feels he is losing his mind.

Lol. Writing is hard, huh. Okay, I'm not sure this is categorised as a character & reader fic now that I used third person, not second person pov, but eh xD

I'm willing to talk about it more though, if anyone is interested!

Thank you for the ask and the space to bullshit, Anon!