quarterly reminder that if i reblog something ai-generated it is 110% and always an accident and for the love of god please tell me so i can delete it from my blog
"Should parents read their daughter's texts or monitor her online activity for bad language and inappropriate content?"
Earlier today, I served as the âyoung womanâs voiceâ in a panel of local experts at a Girl Scouts speaking event. One question for the panel was something to the effect of, âShould parents read their daughterâs texts or monitor her online activity for bad language and inappropriate content?â
I was surprised when the first panelist answered the question as if it were about cyberbullying. The adult audience nodded sagely as she spoke about the importance of protecting children online.
I reached for the microphone next. I said, âAs far as reading your childâs texts or logging into their social media profiles, I would say 99.9% of the time, do not do that.â
Looks of total shock answered me. I actually saw heads jerk back in surprise. Even some of my fellow panelists blinked.
Everyone stared as I explained that going behind a childâs back in such a way severs the bond of trust with the parent. When I said, âThis is the most effective way to ensure that your child never tells you anything,â it was like Iâd delivered a revelation.
Itâs easy to talk about the disconnect between the old and the young, but I donât think Iâd ever been so slapped in the face by the reality of it. It was clear that for most of the parents I spoke to, the idea of such actions as a violation had never occurred to them at all.
It alarms me how quickly adults forget that children are people.
Apparently people are rediscovering this post somehow and I think thatâs pretty cool! Having experienced similar violations of trust in my youth, this is an important issue to me, so I want to add my personal story:
Around age 13, I tried to express to my mother that I thought I might have clinical depression, and she snapped at me ânot to joke about things like that.â I stopped telling my mother when I felt depressed.
Around age 15, I caught my mother reading my diary. She confessed that any time she saw me write in my diary, she would sneak into my room and read it, because I only wrote when I was upset. I stopped keeping a diary.
Around age 18, I had an emotional breakdown while on vacation because I didnât want to go to college. I ended up seeing a therapist for - surprise surprise - depression.
Around age 21, I spoke on this panel with my mother in the audience, and afterwards I mentioned the diary incident to her with respect to this particular Q&A. Her eyes welled up, and she said, âYou know I read those because I was worried you were depressed and going to hurt yourself, right?â
TL;DR: When you invade your childâs privacy, you communicate three things:
You do not respect their rights as an individual.
You do not trust them to navigate problems or seek help on their own.
You probably havenât been listening to them.
Information about almost every issue that you think you have to snoop for can probably be obtained by communicating with and listening to your child.
Part of me is really excited to see that the original post got 200 notes because holy crap 200 notes, and part of me is really saddened that something so negative has resonated with so many people.
Fun fact: I saw this post today right after a Tumblr ad for spyware-for-parents which should not be any more legal than spyware-for-partners or spyware-for-stalkers or such
Today is my 25th birthday, I started writing/reading fanfiction when I was 13/14 going through really difficult transitions in life. Writing brought me such joy and confidence. Though writers blocks has killed my ability to write anything I deem good enough to post; I will forever have such love for this platform and the others Iâve read/written on. As well as the people Iâve met on them.
Summary: Aerion marries your sister with the pure intention of tormenting you- his real desire.
You find comfort in Baelor, only to find madness runs through the family.
Word count: 23, 812
warnings: unco, dark!, possessive themes, Dark themes, mentions of death, she/her pronouns, SA, violence, All of the warnings, dead dove do not eat.
PART 1
PART 2
The tent was loud and crowded. People danced in any spare space that wasnât taken up by drinking and feasting. Long stretches of table were only a few too drunk to stand, sat. Perfectly lit by darkening candles. It was heaven.Â
Stuck in the Targayan household for 2 years left you little room for freedom. Now it bore itself before you. Asking you to take a bite.Â
You did, drinking and dancing around the chair that your sister fret in. She too was a prisoner of the Targaryen house, having married Aerion under order of your father. You followed her to her new home and she followed you out of bounds.Â
Her fear was justified, If you were caught the punishment would be unjust. But it was the first night in a long time that was not watched by one of the Targaryen men. A night where you could shine.
The large man across the room from you did not get the message. He stood against the wall in the corner, hunched over despite his tall frame, trying to go unnoticed. He acted as if he wasnât looking over. His eyes unconvincingly found something interesting when you dared to look over.Â
It wasnât a lustful look he gave. There was something pitiful behind it. Something kind.Â
Your sister, Ledia, sat in the chair and refused to move, nursing the same glass of wine from the start of the evening. She begged you to go every half hour but the older Princes were occupied with Lord Asford, Egg and Daeron were missing, Aerion drank too much after weeks of travel and Valarr was too kind to cause you any trouble.Â
For tonight, your freedom was returned. You would remember joy. You would remember who you were before all of it.Â
Your ringed finger beckoned the tall man over out of curiosity. He was a lower man. His dress suggested a farmer but he carried a sword looped through rope.Â
He was startled by your call but slowly made his way across the crowded tent over to you. He was gentle in his approach. Dodging out of the path of others even though he towered over them. When other guests stopped in front of him as if he didn't exist he patiently waited for them to move if he could not get around.Â
You were intrigued. Almost yearning to know more about him, and his gentleness.Â
âWhat are you doing?â your sister hissed, watching him as he moved closer.Â
He was before you before you could answer.Â
âExcuse me, mâ lady, I donât mean to stareâ the tall man addressed. He shook his shoulders straight and his hand rested on sword in pride, not threat.
âI have the honor of being a hedge knightâ, he continues.
âGood for youâ, Ledia demeans,Â
He is not shaken by it. The big oaf must be abused daily. It was almost endearing.Â
âAnd as such, I am charged to defend the innocent. It would be my duty, my-my honor, my lady to see to the man who did that to your faceâ.
You feel your sister draw back curling her body into herself.Â
âThank you ser?â You try to defuse.Â
âDunk, just Dunkâ, he answers you bashfully.Â
âYouâre a knight with no title?â You quiz him.Â
âAh, noâhe answers before enlightening his next sentence, âNo, I do, I do!â, he promises.Â
He straightens up again, puffing his chest in pride.Â
âSer Dunken the tallâ.
âSer Dunken the tallâ you repeat, âA fine name for a fine knightâ.Â
His shoulder sloops and his ears turn red at your words. A gentle giant. Edgar to please from years of neglect.Â
âWe thank you ser, but we are in no need of a knights help. Her face is justified by the lawâ, you submit.Â
âDid you do something wrong?â he asks.
âI was born a fool!â Ledia snaps, âI want to go back nowâ, she demands from you .
âOne more hourâ, you beg of her.
âIâd be happy to escort-â a hard slap on the man's back stopped his sentence. Lyonel Barathon is nearly hidden by the mans large frame but he peaks out drunkenly from behind him.Â
âYou big cuntâ Lyonel exclaimed using the man as a leaning post, âSheâs not stopped dancing all night. You come along and she is as still as my first wife on our wedding nightâ.
âSer Barathon, do not speak in such a manner to a guest. He does not know you are jokingâ, you scold the lord.Â
âGuest? Whoâs guest? I donât fucking know himâ. Lyonel stands on his strength, glaring up at the tall figure who looked like a hunted deer. The giant fumbles under the attention, looking for word or action but both fail him.Â
âMy guestâ, you state, drawing the lord's attention back to you.Â
He grins sheepishly at you, leaning down closer so his soft voice would reach you. Your nose wrinkled under the stench of alcohol.Â
âYou should not be here eitherâ he accuses.Â
âArenât you glad I amâ, you whisper.Â
Lyonel jumps up with a clap, kicking his feet out in a gleeful fashion.Â
âFuck it. The more the merrier. Stand tall man!â he demands, striking the chest of Duncan, âThe Gods above gave you tallness so be tallâ.Â
âI am sorryâ Ducan muttered, âwhere I am from you learn to go unnoticed, is allâ.Â
Your sister scoffs in her chair, finally taking a sip of her drink.Â
âI am sorry too, my lady, if I offended you. I meant no ill intent, honestâ, he pledges.
âOh a man who means no ill intent is a man to be feared indeedâ Lyonel howls. The lord grabs the knight by the shoulders turning the giant squarely towards him.Â
âDo you dance, cunt?â lyonel implored over the music.Â
âSer Dunkâ you interject.
Lyonel looks at you in a drunk haze before he turns back to his man, âDo you dance Ser Dunk?â.Â
The large man shrugs, âDoesnât everybody?â.
âNot that oneâ Lyonel apprises, flicking his head in the direction of your sitting sister.Â
âCome onâ Lyonel called trying to bring Ducan to the dance floor.Â
âOh no, my lord. I thank you, but I am only here for supperâ Ducan admits.Â
Lyonel's mood changes. He becomes taller, and his eyes blacker as he steps up to a man twice his size.Â
âYou come into my tent, eat my food, drink my wine, and you refuse to dance?â Lyonel summarizes in the threatening tone.Â
You are now so used to defusing situations that you automatically react.Â
Latching on to the mans arm, you use your body weight to push him closer to the dance floor.Â
âOne dance, ser Ducanâ you ask, âand I shall personally see you to the banquet table afterâ.
âDonât!â Ledia calls, âShould anyone see you and report backâ.
You look around the room, seeing only those too absorbed in their own night to care about yours.Â
âThe room is so drunk, I doubt people would remember their own names than who danced with whoâ, you argue back.Â
âCome on!â Lyonel calls in a better mood, âgrab your balls and meet me on the dance floorâ .
Pushing the man into the centre, you take hold fiercely while he returns a gentle and cautious hold. Something you havenât felt in many moons.Â
One dance turned into four and a half before Lyonel took your place in a sweeping motion, moving your dance partner across the floor in a forceful and fighting way.Â
He stomps on Duncan's foot, getting him to move while keeping him close in a traditional dancing hold.Â
The large man has enough by the time the song draws to an end. Stomping his own foot down on the lords boot. For a second you think Lyonel is hurt by the way he folds over but he rises with a delighted smirk and a friendly wink.Â
You rush to save your friend, pulling him away from Lyonel who continues to dance.Â
Your friend didnât seem startled by the abuse. Laughing, and calling Lyonel a mad man. You sit him next to your sister before retrieving him more wine.Â
Your sister did not speak a word but her eyes warned you. Told you of her anxiety about all of this. You ignore her, taking a spare seat to the huffing man who took the cup with thanks.Â
An hour turned into more as you learnt about him. His troubles in finding a lord to vouch for him so he can enter into the lists. You tell him it may be a kindness, there was a sort of fury that went into jousting that you werenât sure he had.Â
There was no other option, he told you. He told you of his own anxiety about the matter which surprised you as he was both a man and a knight. He was manley, there was no doubt. Big and strong with a sense of duty to protect and provide. But no ego of importance that many other men carried. He was open with his emotions. With his stories and past. He wanted you to know him; the whole of him. Not a front that was curated. He lay emotionally bare before you and you found yourself leaning towards him, growing hot under his vulnerability.Â
He spoke of his days as a squire speaking with more affection than was warranted about his old master.Â
Before you could stop yourself, your hand reached out and rested on his thigh as you spoke words of encouragement. He froze under your touch, the grip on his cup tightened.Â
âEnoughâ scolded your sister, speaking for the third time the entire night, âYou said an hour near five hours away. I am leavingâ.
Ledia jumped up, pushing her way through the dwindling party into the night. You rise too, disappointed that your night is now over.Â
âLet me see you and your sister home,â Ducan offered.Â
âNoâ you were firm. No one could see him. It would be hard enough to get back unnoticed let alone trying to drag a giant back.Â
âWe are not farâ you attempt to salvage his feelings, âbesides Ser Lyonal has been waiting all night to have you to himselfâ.
Ducan turns to a Ser Lyonal who sat at his table, openly staring back without shame.Â
âHeâs a bit madâ, Ducan says, turning back to you.
âHe is harmless fun and a good friend to have in your cornerâ you advise him, âhere you need all the friends you can get. Good Luck Ser Ducan. I am sure we will see each other before the tourney is overâ.
He becomes bashful again, nodding his large head in agreement.Â
âI hope so, my Lady. Are you sure I cant see you safely back?â, he asks.Â
You laugh seeing Lyonal grow inpatient, getting up to collect his new toy.Â
âI fear it is you who needs protecting Serâ, you jest.Â
Lyonal jumps on the large mans back, screaming gleefully as he is swung around as Ducan attempts to shake him.Â
Without focus you follow your sister outside, unsurprised to her waiting for you.
âYou play with fireâ she scolds before storming the way back.
âI liked himâ, you admit.Â
âââââââââââ
âWhere were you last night?â Areionâs voice rang into the kitchen before he entered abruptly.
You were sitting with your sister in the servants quarters hoping to find solitude together but eyes were everywhere.
His hand is on his sword as he stalks towards you, ignoring Leia as she sits trembling in her chair.
âI visited your chambers last night but you werenât thereâ, he states, âNor you wifeâ he spares her a quick glance before setting back on you.
You had thought he drunk his fill and would sleep through the night or else you never would have pressured your sister into following you.
With a hand on the table he is leant forward nearly peering down at you from his height. His hand is still on his sword in threat. Â
âWe visited the Library and slept thereâ, you lie.Â
In a flash he grabs the back of your neck pushing it down to the table where he pinned your face against the wood.
âLie to me again and I shall cut your sisters tongue out and force you to eat it. Where were you?â he spit.Â
You push against his thigh trying to push him back as you do the pressure on head intensifies.
âDont!â you hear your sister cry out.
âQuiet whore, I am trying to have a conversation with your sisterâ, Areion demands.Â
âLeia, go!â you beg her.
âNo, stay, and watch what happens when you do not do as you are toldâ.
You feel a sharp point against the soft flesh behind the back of your ear. His hand left his sword to grasp his dagger and you cry out as he slices the skin apart.Â
He is slow as he does it. Although only a small cut, he drags the knife so slowly it felt as if he was carving your ear.Â
âYou will not disrespect house Targaryen by running off into the nightâ, he tells you, pulling back the dagger and letting you lift your head.
Your hand instantly cups your ear, blood pours onto your fingers.Â
âAnd youâ, he points his knife at your sister, âYou are to never leave where I put you, you will not disgrace me by going out and fucking half the towns menâ.
Your sister shakes her head, âI would never disrespect youâ.Â
He rests his hand with the knife on the table, cocking his hip out and glares at your sister.
âAre you calling me a liar whore?â.Â
She shakes her head viciously but it still does not appease him.Â
âOpen your mouthâ he demands.Â
In fear for your sister, you pick up your embroidery needle and jam it in the back of his hand. He howls as it digs into his bone, shaking the feeling away with quick flicks of his wrist. The needle wasn't enough to really hurt him, just enough to draw his attention away from your sister so she could escape.Â
âYou little bitchâ, he calls you.Â
You jump from your chair, angling yourself closer to the door thinking that maybe you could make it outside.Â
He begins to laugh watching you readying yourself for a fight, while your sister attempts to retreat unnoticed. After nearly a year you think the same trick will still work.Â
His sore hand clamps down on Leia's shoulder to prevent her from moving.Â
âNo, I suppose you are quite rightâ, he mocks, âYou are a free woman. I have no right to keep you anywhere you donât wish to be. My wife, however, well I did make a vow to keep her closeâ.
âLet her goâ you demand.Â
âJust like I have no right to command you to stay, you have no right to tell me what to do with my propertyâ.Â
âWe went to the Village" your sister admits, âI am sorryâ.Â
âOhâ Aerion fakes, âYou shouldnât have gone thereâ.
His hands snake through her brown hair, tangling themselves at her roots.Â
âCome wifeâ Aerion drags her by her hair out of the kitchen, âwe have some making up to doâ.
You scream at him to stop, latching on to your sister's kicking feet to try and drag her back. But he was much stronger than you and you only caused her more pain.Â
âI am sorryâ, you call to him, âI am sorry, it wont happen againâ.Â
He continues to drag her through the halls, servants usher away at the sight.Â
âAreion, please, I will make it up to you only let her goâ, you promise.Â
He does drop her by only for the time it takes to land his boot against her face.Â
âStop! Stop it!â you scream at him.
âWhen I call upon you tonight, I expect you to be there, not off galaventing with the townspeopleâ, he warns, picking up your sister by her arms so he could move her quicker.Â
You hit his back, begging him to drop her. She could barely walk, her feet stumbling to catch ground.Â
Changing tactics, you run past him to the reading chambers where you knew you would find Prince Baelor.Â
He surely wouldn't let this happen in a house where he was a guest.Â
âPrince Baelorâ you call to him from the hall, âPrince Maekarâ.Â
You dash into the room, uninvited. Not only were they there but so was Ashford and his children.Â
âGods, child, what is the fucks the matter with you?â Maekar requested.Â
Baelor rose from his chair instantly noticing the blood pooling from your ear.Â
âAerion, heâs, you got to stop him, heâs- ba- heâs with herâ you pant. You try to explain yourself given the urgency but all the words want to topple out at once. Â
Baelor turns your head with a hold on your chin, inspecting your ear which was not the main priority.Â
âLordsâ, the stairs, he's dragging herâ, you rush.Â
âHuh?â Maekar exasperated.Â
âThink about the words you want to say, and take a breathâ, his fingers gently graze the wound testing how deep it was, âWe can summarize Aerion is behind this. Start with your sisterâ.
You hear Maekar grumble about his son but you talk over him despite your lower standing.Â
Baelor takes your bloody hand in his, leading you over to the pitcher of water. You attempt to pull back, wanting him to follow you but he is adamant to reach the pitcher.Â
âSheâs hurt. He is hurting her. You need to stop him, please my lordsâ you implored.Â
âHe did this too?â Baelor asks you. He wets a cloth left out for morning tea and presses it against your ear to stop the bleeding.Â
âOf course he didâ Maekar calls, âShe didnât do it to herself. Little bastard".Â
Maekar gets up from his chair, storming in large strides to the hallway.
âI will take care of thisâ, he promises.
âWhat upset him this time?â Baelor asks you, removing the cloth to see if the bleeding had slowed before pressing it back down.Â
You couldnât tell him the truth. Baelor was likely to take his side. He often denied day trips with your sister back at Kingslanding. If it could not be brought to you then he would make arrangements in the future to take you. If he knew you snuck out at night in a new town, you doubt his reaction would be good.Â
âI am still trying to figure out what upset him last timeâ, you disarm him.Â
A small smile graces his lips and he checks your wound again.Â
âHe didnât cut deep. Although, Lord Ashford, you may have a trail of blood in your hallways, I apologize.â
âNot at all, your graceâ the lord contends âI will have it cleaned right awayâ.
âMay I take further advantage of your kindness and ask that you allow us a moment in privateâ, Baelor asks.Â
The Lord gathers his children, ushering them out the door with bashful comments.
âAerion is excitable in a new city. Youâd be best to remain close to me during our stay hereââ.
âMy sister does not have the same luxury of hiding behind you, my prince. I will not leave her to face him aloneâ.Â
Baelor sighs, dropping the cloth from your ear, using it now to wipe the blood from the surrounding area and your neck.
âYou do not have to suffer just because your sister doesâ, he tells you.
âWould you leave your brother on the battlefield?â you ask him.
He looks at you with a funny gaze, âNo, of course notâ.
âMarriage is a women's battlefield and I will not leave her outnumberedâ.Â
Baelor nods in understanding, dropping the cloth to the table.Â
âIf you ever want a break from war, feel welcomed to seek me outâ, Baelor offers.Â
âThank you, my lordâ, you return.Â
âGo to the Maester and have him look at your wound. He should give you something to keep infection awayâ, he ordered.Â
You curtsy as is custom and leave the room only you go to your sister's room and sit by her door listening as through the wood as she cries on the bed while Areion and his father argue.Â
â-------------------------------------------
Two days pass yet you still think upon the hedge knight. It made it hard to focus on the book in front of you. Baelor notices like he does everything else.Â
âIs something wrong?â he asks you.Â
He sat reading his letters and decrees while you sat next to him as you usually did.Â
âNo, my lordâ you answer him, making an effort to bring the book closer to you and focus.Â
âYouâve been unusually quiet this whole tripâ he comments, âHas Aerion done something?â.Â
âNothing we arenât all accustomed to, my princeâ.Â
âYouâre going to make me guess whats wrong?â, he muses.Â
With a sigh he puts his quill down and turns his body in his chair towards you.Â
âYou will be guessing for a long time, my lord, for nothing is the matterâ.
Baelor reaches for your hand, holding it gently in his firm grasp.
âTell meâ, he demands.
He lets you take your hand back, and watches you in an intent stare as you busy yourself with your book.
âI am tired, that is all. Please do not fretâ.Â
âAs you sayâ he submits, going back to his work.Â
A quiet comfortableness falls between you once more.Â
You dont read. You cant manage to focus on forming the words into a sentence by for show you turn the page when the quietness nears breaking.Â
The knight plays on your mind. You wonder what he is doing. If he was worried about entering the tourney. You tried to devise a plan to get away, to even just get another glimpse at him. Baelor would never allow you to attend a joust, not even to watch Aerion.
Could you climb out the window, you muse. It was too high. Bribe a maid to allow you out and keep the princes distracted. Could you just simply bear the consequences?Â
As if you dreamt it, you see the familiar coloring of his worn green cloak peaking out of the stone.You shut your eyes, trying to get your sense back. But when you open them again, the image only becomes clearer.Â
You get up from your chair in haste to confirm whether you were crazy or not.Â
âY/n where are you going?â Baelor calls but you ignore him.Â
He seemed equally surprised to see your face jumping out from behind the door.Â
âSer Ducan?â you called in amazement.Â
âLady Y/n? What- what are you doing here?â, Ducan quizzes.Â
You hear Baleors chair scrape back and pull your body back into the chambers, leaving Ducan lingering in the hall.Â
âY/Nâ Baelor calls, âStep backâ.Â
He motions for you to come over to him so you obey command quickly.
âCome forward serâ, Barlor commands, âdo not hide in the shadowsâÂ
He waits a moment too long before Duncan moves his large frame to the doorway.Â
âMy lady, my grace, I apologise for the intrusionâ Duncan begins, already flustered. His frame is hunched once again, and his eyes are downcast, âI am ser Ducan the tallâ.Â
 âNo intrusion, Serâ Baelor returns in politeness, âwhat is your purpose for lingering in the halls?â
âI have asked Ser Manfred Dondarriton to vouch for me so that I may enter the lists, but he has refused to do so. Others tooâ.
Your heart sank at his words. He must be distraught. While you didnt want him to enter the lists. You also didnt want him to display this downtrodden look.Â
âYou see, they say they know not of Ser Alarn of Pennytree. But he served them. I swear it. I have his sword and shield. Do you remember him, my lord?â
âSer Alarn of Pennytreeâ Baelor muses, ânever won a tourney that I know of but he never shamed himself, eitherâ.Â
âYes, Serâ Ducan sighs in relief, âI mean, no, no he didnâtâ.Â
âHe overthrew Lord Stokeworth in the melee at Kingâs landing. And years before he unhorsed the Gray Lion himselfâ.
âHe told me of that many a timeâ, Ducan reminisce, stepping closer.Â
âNot too close, serâ Balor warns, âYou are still a stranger in this house. Sword and shield prove littleâ.Â
Baelor steps closer to you, shielding you from Duncan's eyesight with his body.
âOf course, my lordâ, Ducan retracts with a bowed head, âI am sorryâ.
âYou will recall the Gray Lions true name. I have no doubtâ, Baelor tests.Â
Ducan looks to pause. His thought process runs across his face as he tries to drudge up the old name. You try and mouth it to him over Baelors shoulder.Â
The first name is enough to spark Duncan's memory.Â
âSer Damon Lannisterâ Ducan confirms, âthe grey lion, heâs lord of Casterly rock nowâ.Â
âSo he isâ, Baelor disclosed, âand enters the list upon the morrowâ.Â
âI canât believe you remember him, my lordâ Duncan beamed, âI came only in hopeâ.Â
âIs that the only reason?â Baelor asserted, âYou werenât hoping to see someone else?â.Â
âNo, my lordâ, Ducan submits but takes an uneasy look at you.
âHow could you possibly remember an old henge knight?â you asked, desperate to avoid this line of questioning.Â
Baelor turns his head but not his body to answer you.Â
âI jousted with Ser Alarn many years past, at stormâs end. Lord Baratheon held a hastilude to celebrate the birth of a grandson. The lots made him my opponent in the first tilt. We broke four lances before I finally unhorsed himâ.
âIt was sevenâ Ducan declares, earning the rooms attention, âI believeâ he further comments upon your telling stare.Â
Baelor turned back with a thin smile.Â
âTales grow in the telling, I know. Do not think ill of master but it was four lances only, I fearâ.
âAs you say, your graceâ, Ducan declares, dropping to one knee, âit was four. I do apologize. The old man, Ser Arlan used to say I was as thick as castle walls and slow as an aurochs.â
âNo harm was done, ser. Riseâ Baelor offers.Â
âYou gave him back his horse and armor and took no ransom. Ser Alan often told me that you were the soul of chivalry and that one day the seven kingdoms would be safe in your handsâ.Â
âNot for many years yet, I prayâ.Â
âNo! No, I did not mean that the king should-â Duncan blubbers.Â
âSer would you like a glass of wineâ you interrupt him, âMaybe we could sit and discuss this matterâ.Â
âNo, my lady. I don't believe I should add alcohol to this but I thank youâ.Â
âY/n, this is men's businessâ Baelor dismisses, âTake your book elsewhere so that I may speak to Ser Ducanâ.
âAs you wish, my lordâ you submit. With no other option you pick up your book, and begin to make your way to the door. In passing you give a wink to Ser Ducan whose face turns red and he shrinks back into himself.
âMy lady if I may be so boldâ Ducan stops you, âI plan to fight bravely. It would be an honour if I had your favourâ.
Baelor clears his throat uncomfortably, but you blush at the offer.Â
He may be the last honorable man in the entire land.Â
âThen you shall have it Ser Duncanâ, you tell him, âBe careful, and come back to me in one pieceâ.Â
âI will, my ladyâ Ducan swears with an awkward nod.Â
You feel Baelor burning a hole in your back so with a kind smile you continue your walk.Â
âGood Luck, Ser Ducanâ.Â
He thanks you again before you take his place in the shadows.Â
âSo you wish to enter the lists, is that it?â Baelor quizzes, taking his seat once more.Â
âYesâ Duncan breaths.Â
Baelor takes a piece of parchment and puts his pen to it as he speaks,Â
âThe decision rests with the master of the games, but I see no reason to deny youâ, he holds the paper out to Duncan, âa letter to the same effectâ.
âMy lordâ Dunk gushes moving to grab the letter, âI donât know how to thank youâ.
âThank me not serâ, Baelor dismisses, âyou havenât fought yetâ.
âNo, of course not, your graceâ. With a clumsy bow, Duncan makes effort to leave the room and take up no more of the princes time.Â
âOh, and Ser Duncanâ Baelor calls from his seat. The large man turns instantly as he is called, turning back to his price, âLady Y/n is a particular favorite of mine, I ask any future interaction remainâ, Baelor pauses momentarily thinking of the correct phrase, âWithin boundsâ, he finishes.Â
Duncan feels his face turn hot, his eyes divert from the speaker to the ground, his large frame follows his sight to the floor.Â
âOf course, your grace. I would never-â Duncan doesnt finish going on to his next sentence, âHad I known-â
Baelor raises his hand in acknowledgement, halting the stumbling of the knight.Â
âYou could not haveâ Baelor reasons, âI deny it myself most daysâ.
âYour graceâ Ducan says awkwardly, his shifts painfully in his spot. He was never any good at talking. Now he was talking to the future king about a delicate matter. Ser Arlan never prepared him for this, and he made the stupid comment about 7 lances in front of her.Â
âY/n is young. Itâs only natural she seek out suitors of her own age. I do not begrudge either of youâ
Duncan scoffs, his frame about falling off him, âI am not worthy of a woman of her standardâ.Â
âThat we can agree onâ, Baelor agrees, âHowever, she is young and headstrong. Youâll do your best to dissuade her, i am sure on that, but she is not easily fought. Should you fail, you will have made enemies of two princes of the realmâ.
âYour graceâ Ducan stutters, âI would sooner pluck out both my eyes, cut my tongue out with my own sword then go against the crownâ.
Baelor raises his hand again, this time to silence.Â
âI warn you only as I would hate to see a Knight as honorable as you, caught between something you donât understandâ.
Duncan's frame rose again under the compliment. His hand goes to his sword and he puffs out his chest.Â
âThank you serâ, Ducan boasted.Â
âOff with you nowâ Barlor dismisses, rising from his chair, âI have matters to attend to. Good luck with the tournamentâ.
âThank you, my graceâ Ducan says again with an awkward bow.Â
You wait for him in the hallway, hiding in the shadows.
âDucanâ you call for him as he storms down the passage, Baelor appears at the door as you do.
He watches as Duncan repeals himself from your close proximity as you follow him
âSo will you fight?â, you ask him.
âYes, my ladyâ he confirms, âmy thanks to youâ.Â
He tries to continue on, but you pull on his arm to stop him.Â
âYou must be carefulâ, you tell him, âDo you have adequate armor?â.
âI did not mean wait in the hallwayâ Baelor criticizes as he makes his way towards you. Â
Baelor takes your arm in a gentle hold, slowing you down to his pace as he speaks, âSer Ducan has a match to prepare for, and we have dinner. Come now, let us leave himâ.
Baelor turns you in the other direction but your eyes refuse to leave him.Â
Ducan bows politely before his feet take him further down the hall as quickly as they can.Â
With his dismissal, you willingly go with Baelor. He links your arms together as he leads you back to your room, his opposite hand goes on top of yours pinning it in his hold.Â
âYou said something to him,â you state.Â
âNothing that didnât need to be saidâ, he returns.Â
âDo you think I might be able to attend the tourney on the morrow?â you ask despite knowing better.Â
âI think you know the answer to that is noâ, Balor confirms, âThey are too violent. You would be boredâ.
âI used to go as a girlâ, you tell him.Â
âI believe I remember your father telling me he could never get you to sit still. That you and your sister would disappear as soon as the horn blew. We represent House Taryaryen in these new lands. Aerion cannot be descended into madnessâ.
âI would sit. You wouldnât know I was thereâ, you fight.Â
âThe answer is no. I will take you and your sister shopping in the markets two days from now. I hear Ashford has splendid marketsâ.
âAshford marketsâ you comment solemnly. Â
You reach the door of your chambers. Baelor releases you and reaches for the door. Aerion is waiting inside.Â
âUncleâ Aerion greets, âHave you been keeping her all to yourself again?â.
âMerely the afternoonâ Baelor states.Â
You step closer to Aerion. His eyes glare down at you as you speak.Â
âThey told me my sister was unable to be seen. Orders given by youâ.Â
âThatâs right. My father has reminded me that I have husbandly duties to attend toâ.
âAre you done with her? Can I see her?â you ask in a desperate voice.
Aerion smiles at your panic, watching you with his sharp and threatening eyes.Â
âAt dinnerâ Baelor promises, âwhich we should all be getting ready forâ
A further grin spreads across Aerions lips, his face ducks closer to you.Â
âMy wife will not be joining us tonight. She has suddenly fallen illâ, he torments.Â
You shove him harshly enough for him to brace himself on his back foot and straighten up.Â
âWhat have you done?â you accuse. Your next strike is caught by him and with a hold on your arms, he throws you to the floor.Â
Baelor sighs, reaching down to pick you up but Aerion stops him.Â
âNo uncle, it is important she knows her place on the floor. You fail to train a dog out of their bad habits and you have a mutt for lifeâ.Â
âEnough of this nonsenseâ, Baelor criticizes. He knocks the arm that blocks him away, continuing to reach for you on the floor. You deny his help, standing up by yourself.
âI want to see my sister. Take me to her nowâ, you demand.Â
Your body shook imagining what he has done to her.
âAnd why should I?â Aerion bites, âWho are you to demand such a request from me? You are only here by my mercyâ
âYour mercy?â you scoff. You openly laugh in his face, his eyes squint back at you in warning.Â
âYour mercy?â you repeat with no more humor.Â
âEnough of thisâ Baelor interrupts, âMight I remind you two that we are guests in this house. We will not air this madness for all to seeâ, " your arm is taken into his hold again and you are tugged closer to his body, âAerion is right. Leia is his wife, and he owes you no explanationâ.
âShe is my sister!â
âWho married Aerion under her own free willâ. You go to protest his words, your face contending with anger.Â
âEnough, do not speakâ, he commands you, âThey are married by law. By right, she is his property. If he says she is too ill to attend dinner then you have no right to challenge him.â
âYou are free to leave at any timeâ Aerion provokes, âI have humored you for the sake of my darling wife, and received nothing but scorn in return. Iâve not received a penance from your father for housing you or feeding you all this time. And this is the thanks I get from youâ.
âYou are a monster, and if you think I will entertain you tonight after my sister then you are mistakenâ.Â
âJealous?â he provokes.Â
âOnly of the knight who will unhorse youâ, you picture your knight charging at Aerion, although you know they would never be in the same rank.Â
He is predictable as he raises his hand to slap you again. Baelor catches the younger mans wrists, casting it back down.Â
âCome, let us prepare for dinner, and cool our tempersâ Baelor speaks to you, tugging you by your arm out the door.Â
Aerion runs his tongue across his top teeth in anger but the kings hand spoke and he had not the power to challenge.
He leads you back to his chambers, shoving you into an empty chair as he enters.  Â
âDo not cry like a scolded childâ, he criticizes, unbuttoning his shirt. It was an improper thing to do in front of a lady but he felt a strong enough claim over you to do so.
âYou know he was lyingâ, you state in your chair.
âYou know as well as I do there was nothing to be doneâ, he refutes.Â
âYou are Baelor Targaryen, prince of the realm, the kings right handâ
âAnd you will respect me as soâ, he demands of you.Â
You shut your mouth immediately, he was right the way you spoke was not right for a man of his station. You had become too familiar with him that you had forgotten you were so beneath him.Â
âForgive me, your graceâ, you mutter, âYou are correct. There was nothing to be doneâ, you grit.
He sits on the end of his perfectly made bed with a heavy sigh.Â
âCome help me undressâ.Â
You rise without looking at him, kneeling down to unlace his boots and pull them from his feet.You reach up for his pin next, attempting to unhook it from his breast.Â
His large hand reaches for your face, hooking his fingers behind your ear.Â
âI will send a mastor to your sister during dinner. You must behave or else Aerion will return to his chamber earlyâ.Â
âItâs my faultâ you admit, âI provoked him this morning. If I just kept my mouth shut, he wouldnât have hurt herâ.
Baelor wipes a fresh tear away, watching as you attempt to hold back more.Â
âSweet girl, you play a game you cannot win. Maybe it would be best if you returned homeâ.
It was an empty offer. He would never allow such a thing to really occur. Baleor throws all the letters you receive in the fire. But it was important to think the decision was yours so you would monitor your own behaviour.Â
âAnd leave her with him? With no one to protect her?â.
âWithout the promise of tormenting you, maybe he would leave Leia aloneâ,
 It was perhaps a truth. But Aerion was unruly and unpredictable. There was a chance he would grow bored but there was an equal threat he would kill her.Â
You pull back out of his hold with his pin in your hand and stand to your feet to place it in its box.Â
âThereâs a greater chance it rains blood tomorrowâ, you comment, âHe enjoys inflicting painâ.Â
âThen we must not give him reason to. Youâll watch your tongue, mind your manners. Heâll find any excuse to strikeâ.
âYes, my graceâ you answer him.Â
âCome back hereâ he waives you over and you follow command, kneeling back down between his legs.Â
âYes, my graceâ, you call to him.
He reaches back to your face, his thumb pressing into your cheekbone.
âThat knight, you called him by name. Where do you know him from?â
Your lips seal together, trying to think of a good lie.Â
âYouâve been sneaking out at night havenât you?â, he answers for you, âYou mustnât do that. Your door will be locked after dinner from now onâ.Â
Aerion would still get in, the locked door only took your freedom away, not offered you any safety.Â
âAm I a prisoner, your grace?â you mock.Â
His hold shifts to your jaw, holding it up to his eye sight.
âYou are a foolish, young girl. Take a bath before dinnerâ, he releases you in form and eyesight.Â
â-----------------------------
You sat next to Aerion at the dinner table to avoid his tantrum. You even rose when he entered the room, much to his delight.Â
âMy princeâ, you greeted him, through gritted teeth.
âWell look who found their mannersâ, he pushes, taking his seat, âA mighty improvement from an hour ago. You must tell me uncle, how you manage to quill her fire so quicklyâ.Â
âShut up, boyâ Maekar commands from the seat next to his brother.Â
âY/n sitâ Baelor commands. Only then do you realise you are still standing.Â
âGood dogâ Aerion whispers.Â
You take a breath to stow your anger, focusing on the cup bears who had begun to poor wine.Â
âWhat a lovely dressâ, Aerion says loudly for the group, running a finger down the red fabric of your arm, âwhere did it come from?â
âPrince Baelor chose the dressâ, you answer him, reaching for your cup.
âDid you?â he asked his uncle.Â
âLord Asfords daughter was kind enough to lend the dress for the night, seeing as Y/nâs chambers were occupiedâ, Baelor answers.Â
âI must say you have exquisite taste, uncleâ, his hand reaches under the table and grips the fabric at your thigh, âY/n, we must remove every other colour from your wardrobe and replace it with this redâ.Â
âWhatever would please you, you graceâ, you return.Â
Aerion laughs loudly. Lord Ashford sits uncomfortably in his chair at the head of the table. An offer was made to baelor but politely refused. The head of the table belonged to the head of the household. Baelor regrets that decision now as he sat across from you. You had taken his words as please Aerion and not know your place beneath him.Â
The laughter stops, leaving the room with nothing more than an uncomfortable silence.Â
You go to take another sip of your cup but Aerion catches the base with two fingers and pushes it back to the table.Â
âOnly water for lady Y/n tonightâ Aerion addresses the staff in the room, âWater is free correct?â, he switches to Lord Ashford, âWith this new wardrobe that pleases me, we must be mindful of the kingdom's budgetâ.
Maekar groans at his sons words, throwing his own cup down.Â
âY/n is a guest in our householdâ Baelor declares, âLet her drink her fillâ.Â
Aerion shakes his head in faked thought before a shrug of his shoulders had his words come tumbling out.Â
âAs sister of my beloved wife, y/n is my responsibility, and as such my burden to bearâ.Â
âI will accept the burdenâ Baelor submits, âDrink your shareâ, he spoke to you.
You didnt touch the cup again, your hands found themselves twisted on your lap.
âIf its money you are concerned about, i will write to my father. Just let me know the financial costs that I burden you with during my stayâ.Â
âHmâ Aerion hums, leaning forward on the table as he gazes at you, âIf i remember correctly it was money that led your father to throw your sister at me forâ.
âShut your mouth, you insolent foolâ, his father commands.Â
âYou will do well to remember that without our wheat, Westros would have starved during winterâ, you argue.Â
âSo I should thank you?â Aerion bickers.Â
âYou should shut your mouth before I hurl you out that windowâ Maekar threatens.
âDinner, dinner, pleaseâ Lord Ashford calls to his servants who rush to fill his command. Baelor closes his eyes at the embarrassment of the scene.
âWill the other princes, and lady Leia, not be joining us tonight?â Asford asks.Â
âNo, my wife has had a terrible fallâ Aerion declares. You shoot up from your seat as he finishes his sentence slowly, âGods know where Valarr is, and my brothers have been missing since Montcastle- is there something wrong, Lady Y/n?â
You imagine your sister laid up in bed, bruising covering her entire body making it hard for her to breathe or move. Her left eye swollen shut and puffy. You picture her as you remembered her the morning after her wedding. You swore you would protect. It was the whole purpose of following her in her new marriage.Â
You remember Baelors words. Dont give him a reason. Could your sister survive another beating?
âI- Iâ you try to think of anything else apart from your rage, âi donât feel well. I ask you that you excuse meâ.Â
âDenied. Sit downâ, Aerion dismisses.Â
âIf she doesnt feel wellâ, Baelor begins but is interrupted.Â
âNo. noâ Aerion waves his dinner knife around, âShe shan't disrespect our host like that. Itâs shameful enough with the other fourâ.
You look to Baelor hoping he would back you up. But he nods his head and take the command to sit.Â
The servant goes to place the plate in front of you but Aerion waves it off.Â
âNo point in giving her food if she will only throw it up in the hallsâ.Â
Baelor thinks to object but a quiet and purposeful breakfast in his chamber tomorrow changes his mind.Â
âIronicâ Aerion comments, âis this the same wheat that saved Westros?â
You turn your head from him as he shows you his fork.Â
âEat Aerionâ Meaker orders, âNo more useless talkingâ.
He takes your hand laying on your lap, moving it to his inner thigh where it is dropped and left laid over his leg.Â
âLord Ashford, will your daughters be attending the tournament on the morrow?â, Baelor ask politely.Â
Aerion shifts your hand higher to his crouch, leaving it in a position where his appendix would brush against your hand should he innocently shift. Â
âYes, your Grace, they are of age nowâ, Ashford confirms, âThey are eager to see your son rideâ.
âThey will be very disappointed in deed when he is knocked off in the first lanceâ, Aerion states between bites.Â
The table ignores him, continuing soft conversation to ease the tension. Â
Aerion rocks his hips against your hand. His own hand cementing on top of yours to keep it where he wanted it. He was careful in his action, ensuring to draw no unnecessary attention.Â
You think of your sister and the harm he can do to her so remain placid in your chair.Â
You feel Baelor's eyes upon you and wonder if he knows what is going on. If he does he plays it calmly and doesnât call out Aerion for his immoral behaviour.Â
âLady y/nâ he calls. Aerion stops his grinding as Baelor calls you.Â
âYou look ill, shall I escort you back to your chamber?â He offers.Â
Aerion releases your hand expecting only one answer.Â
âYes, my lordâ you answer, âthank youâ.Â
You rise as he does, walking quickly to the dining room hall.Â
Baelor puts his hand on your lower back as he escorts you to your chamber.Â
âYou did well. Better than could be expected given the circumstancesâ Baelor praised.Â
âDo you think he will go back to the room?â You ask in a fearful voice.Â
âNot until the mastor is done. I will ensure itâ, he consoles.Â
âThank you, your graceâ.Â
You reach for the handle of your door as Baelor lingers behind. You eye the key in his hand, gathered during your bath.Â
âIt will keep him out as much as you inâ Baelor offers.Â
âNothing will keep him out. You should save the skin of a servant and just give him the keyâ you speak too forward to a prince.Â
To top matter off you slam the door in his face before he excuses you.
You hear the lock and the foot steps down the hall so you knew you were safe from reproach.Â
âââââââââ-Â
You lie in bed thinking upon the days of your girl hood where you would sneak out to your town to visit your friends and be among your people.Â
The days where you did what you wished and didnât have to cater to a prince's mood. The worst day of your life was when your sister married that monster.Â
You had begged your father to call it off but no one breaks their promise to house Targaryen.Â
As soon as Aerion stepped foot over your threshold you clashed with him. He would follow you on nights out until you were forced to stop going for fear his temper would end up killing one of your towns people.Â
He didnât like you were so common. Peasants being friendly with you threw him into a rage. He followed you like a plague.Â
You couldnât beat him a fight, nor did you out rank him but you werenât afraid to call out his behaviour and taunt him as he did others.Â
He hit back but it didnât bother you. Only when he turned his attention to your sister did you begin to quite. This he noticed and announced he would accept Leilaâs hand and join the two households.Â
You begged your father to call it off. Your face carried evidence that he would not be a good husband to your sister. Your father was putting her in danger. She would surely die under him.Â
The wedding occurred anyway.Â
The whole Targanyan clan was there. Baelor attempted kind conversation but you only answered âyes my lordâ to everything.Â
You stuck by your sisters side the entire night. Never more than centimetres apart. Aerion would sometimes rip your sister from your side and carry her across the room, enjoying watching you chase after them like it was a game, until Baelor commanded it to stop.Â
When the celebration was finally over and your sister was taking to the shared chamber unwilling, you took to yours crying into your pillow.Â
A soft knock at the door interrupted you and you ran to it, sure it was her. With puffy red eyes you yanked the door open to discover Aerion still in his wedding attire.Â
He held a dagger up to your throat, using it to push you back into the room and on the bed.Â
âFunny when I held this same knife against your sisters throat I got a different reactionâ he comments, straddling you on the bed.Â
âIs she-?â You panic.Â
âLeft crying in bed. Not much of a wedding nightâ he said. His hand loosened the front of your nightgown. You let out a breath of relief knowing at least you could spare your sister this.Â
âYouâll come back to redkeep with us tomorrowâ he told you.Â
âYesâ you agree. The blade pressed harsher against your skin as he tore the clothes from your body and his lips met every inch of your body.Â
He stayed in your bed the night. You left him there the next day, racing to your sister to let her know that you would not leave her to fend for herself that you would protect her in her new home. The words are replaced with a scream when you saw her state. The state you were sure she was in again now.Â
This time he doesnât knock. He got the key, as you knew he would and let himself right in.Â
You donât move from the bed as he draws near, sliding under the blanket and drawing close to your back.Â
His arm around your waist closes the gap between your bodies before it goes up to your breast where he squeezes harshly.Â
A kiss is placed on your shoulder, and then again going up to your neck to your ear where he bites down.Â
âYouâve been conspiring with my uncle againâ he said with the lobe of your ear in his mouth. You try to pull it away, changing to a weak head butt when that proves too painful.Â
He releases it of his own accord so he could talk clearly into it.Â
âI debated for weeks whether I should force your father to give me your hand or marry your sister to spite youâ, he rolls you flat on your back, âI see now I have made the right decision. So placid and pleasing when itâs your sisters skin on the lineâ.Â
He drags his finger down from your chin between his breasts where he circles your nipple over your nightdress.Â
âI think my hand would have fallen off with the amount of times I would have been forced to use it to correct you. You need a strong hand, donât you?â He pinches at your nipple before it goes to your chin, yanking it up to an uncomfortable position while he pulls off your dress.Â
âIs that way you respond to Baelor? Letting him dress you like a doll?âÂ
You try to deny it in an effort to stop his jealousy that he was sure to take out on you.Â
âNo, no, he only pityâs meâ, you squeak.Â
âOh fuck offâ Aerion snaps, âheâs moved the whole family to kinglanding so he can feast his prying little eyes on you and you know he hasâ.Â
The dress rips in his hand as he yanks to get it off.Â
âI donât mindâ, he reaches down to his own cock pulling it from his pants and lining it up with your entrance. He shoves himself in and fucks you at a harsh pace.Â
âHeâs probably fucking his royal fist right now while I am in the cunt he is dreaming ofâ he chuckles a low satisfied laugh, bracing his hand on the side of your pillow to sustain his body weight. Â
The family had a tradition of spending three months of the year together. Aerion brought your sister which meant you followed along. It was during these three months that you grew to know Baelor as more than the heir to the iron throne. He protected you and your sister when he could from Aerion outbursts. You had come to know you could depend on him for protection and for the first time in months you had someone who you could talk to outside of your sister. The company was needed and you found him to be an intelligent and insightful man. Aerion was jealous but could make no open move against his uncle. You used this against him, perhaps showing him more interest and affection then would be permitted.Â
Baelor in turn grew accustomed to you. He called upon you every day at some point. You used it to separate your sister from Aerion and would make efforts to sit quietly with your sister while Baelor competed his duties. If he enjoyed the company and you made efforts not to disturb him then you saw no reason why the haven couldnât continue. You made yourself as useful as you could to him. If he dropped his pen you would race to pick it up, if he needed water you would bring the cup yourself without needing to be asked.Â
Aerion punished you for this loop hole by killing your horse and raping your sister nightly but for a few hours a day you could exist without feeling on edge.Â
It was all perfect until one day Baelor requested that only you come when he calls, to avoid disrupting the newly weds as they got to know each other.Â
To deny a request from a prince would be a crime worth hanging so you submitted to his daily summons, now with heightened anxiety. Aerion punished you for baelors interest but taking his frustrations out on your sister. When you joined her at night, she would detail how Aerion made her suffer that day.Â
Baelor grew too familiar. You began to notice similarities between him and Aerion that an untrained eye might miss.Â
The proximity was one. Aerion like to hold you kindly or not, when you were near even if he didnât look or speak to you. Baelor needed you in constant eye sight. He moved your chair next to his which made the kingdom council awkward while lords spoke of important matters. When you got up to retrieve a drink of water his head would follow you until you had sat back down.Â
Control was another one. Baelor hid it better, but he exercised his reach over your life. Aerion was right, Baelor did move the families together under one roof under the guise of strengthening the bond between the families of his favourite brother. It was there you noticed that while everyone got to choose from the buffet in front of them, you were handed a preloaded plate without explanation. You didnât rock the boat, Aerion was already on edge having to move. But soon his temper settled and you decided to ignore the plate reaching for your own food. Aerion would slap your hand away, placing the food in your hand rather then allowing you to touch it. It didnât bother you as it should have at least it was your choice what you ate.Â
The same day Baelor called for you around lunch but refused to let you join the others to eat. He had too much work to do. He needed you to assist him so you did without complaint but with a grumbling belly. In the afternoon a servant arrived with a plate of food, placing it directly in front of Baelor who ate from it beside you. He continued with his work not once looking at you or offering you anything. You slump in your chair realising maybe he wasnât as honorable as you liked to imagine. Dinner was a pre-portioned plate. Too small to fill you from your day of hunger but you didnât dare reach for the food in the middle. Even when Aerion placed a chicken leg on your plate, you left it under Baelor's watchful stare.Â
If Aerion didnât like what you were wearing he would tell you straight to your face. If he was in a worse mood, he might rip the bodice so you would change. Baelor would eye it all day, until he had the moment to spill a glass of wine or step upon its hem to rib the fabric. He would be apologetic, acting as if it was an accident. Aerion would not like the color or shape. Baelor would not like tightness or teasing nature. Between them your wardrobe was limited.
You think about running with your sister often but you rather wouldnât allow Elina through the doors as a married women and no where else would harbor the wife of Aerion Targaryen, not even for all the gold in the world.Â
So you were stuck with your sister in this hell until Aerion was finally killed and you could escape with her into the night.Â
He grunts as he comes, you wonder if Baelor did too.Â
Aerion reaches for the headboard, gripping the wood as he fucks you through his own orgasm.Â
His head rests on your collarbone as he regains his breath.Â
He rolls off you with a satisfied groan, nestling into your bed to sleep.Â
âMy sisterâ you begin, earning an annoyed groan from him.Â
âAsk me about her again and I will undo all of the mastors work from this afternoonâ.Â
âWhen can I see her?â You push.Â
Aerion sighs, drawing you to his chest as he thinks.Â
âIf you behave tomorrow at breakfast, you can see her afterâÂ
His breathing evens and hold loosens in sleep. You make sure he is asleep before you dare to get up and clean yourself.Â
The next morning you are woken by a servant early. You draw the sheet closer to you in surprise. The servant puts their finger to their lips, their eyes pointing to the sleeping Aerion beside you. They had a dress over their right hand which they motioned for you to dress in.Â
You follow their silent command and quickly put it on without making a sound.The draw creeks ad you open but Areion remains peaceful in sleep. You down your elixir to destroy his seed inside of you, cringing at its bitter taste. You follow the servant to Baelors room where food covers his study desk.Â
âGood morningâ he greets. He was dressed in his clothes already and seemingly awake while you felt your eyes burn. Did he normally get up this early?
âMy lordâ you returned, âyou summoned me?â
He gestures to the food in offering, âI thought you might be hungryâ.Â
Although your tummy did ache, with Aerion plans this morning you decide it is better to remain hungry until he feeds you.Â
âThatâs very kind of you, your grace, but I will wait for the othersâ.
He was sure to punish you for this at some point during the day. You saw the disappointment look in his face before he could replace it with indifference. But the only thing that mattered was getting to your sister today. He would never keep you from that.
âAt least have some tea with me while we wait for the others to wakeâ he gestures again to the chair which you take under his request.Â
He follows with a spare chair, placing it close so your knees are almost touching.Â
He dislikes tea. You never see him drink it but he reaches for the pot on the table.Â
âYour Grace, allow meâ you offer reaching for the pot.Â
âPleaseâ he breathes a laugh under his breath, âI offered it to you. I will pourâ.Â
You are surprised when he mixes it to your taste. He always had an eye for small details.Â
The second pot on the table only contained hot water which he poured into his own cup.Â
âThank you, my lordâ you reach for your cup only after he reaches for his.Â
You sit quietly for a moment. The sun shines brightly into the open window surrounding you with light.Â
You feel him looking at you. His piercing gaze directed at nothing but you as you drank tea.Â
You refused to look at him. Instead focusing on the empty plate in front of you.Â
Baelor places his cup down and reaches out to your ear. He is gentle in touch, barely grazing the wound left behind.Â
âI admire your dedication to your sister.â The hand that you strain from, lowers to your lap. His fingers grip your knee, his thumb rubs back and forth across your rob.Â
âI hope my children would do the same,â he comments.Â
âYou would never sell your child off to save your own skinâ, you seeth.Â
âNoâ, Baelor admits, âI wouldnâtâ
âHe doesnât even writeâ you state.Â
Baelor clenches his fists as if he had one of your fathers letters in his palm.Â
âOr maybe he doesâ. Baelor's eyes strike you but his face remains neutral, not admitting to anything.Â
âAreion perhaps eats themâ, you mock.
Baelorâs eyes shut and he quickly nods his head, âPerhapsâ, he agrees.Â
âI should goâ, you acknowledge, âBefore he wakesâ.
You place your tea cup down and rise. Baelor remains sat, your first indication he is not pleased.Â
âI will speak to him about sleeping in his wife's bed rather than yoursâ, Baelor promised.Â
âPlease donâtâ you beg.Â
His eyes leave his cup, looking at you in a confused almost mad stare.Â
âWhatever pain I can take from my sister, I willâ, you declare.Â
âShe needs to produce an heirâ, Baelor tells you in a soft voice, âThat is her duty, not yoursâ.Â
The thought made you sick, but it was sobering to realise the full extent of the situation.Â
You nod solemnly.Â
âMay I be excused?â you ask in a soft voice.
He nods, extending his hand to the door.Â
You leave quietly, moving to your sisters door to find it locked. You call for her, letting her know that you will see her after breakfast but receive no response.Â
You go back to your room, disheartened. Aerion was still asleep, a blessing.Â
Some days when you looked at him you really did see a dragon. Eyes so dark there were almost black, shoulders so broad they could have been wings. Other times like now he looked like a young man. A soft prince who needed to be pampered and cared for or else he would crumble. The Targaryens were not usual royal blood. A darkness ran through their blood. The blood of the dragon.Â
You pay him no more mind. He would not torment you while he slept. You would not allow that.Â
You sit at the dresser and begin to apply your makeup. Enjoying the peace of the early sun and quiet of the house.Â
It didnât last long before Aerion began to stir. Reaching out beside him only to find you not there. His brows furrow but as he lifts his head from his pillow, he sees you and they relaxes his demeanour.Â
He falls back into the soft pillows, watching you as you fixed your face.Â
âThere you areâ Aerion states in a sleepy voice, âthought youâd run off againâ.Â
âThey will call breakfast soon. You should get up and get dressed. Your father will be cross otherwiseâ, you reply.Â
âFather will be cross regardless. Why should I dance to his tune?â.Â
âBecuase he is prince of the realmâ you answer, âFourth in line to the throne, and terrifyingâÂ
âTerrifying?â Aerion puzzles. He rises from the bed, you watch him from the mirror, not bothering to dress himself as he bends down behind you to talk gently into your ear.
âMore terrifying than me?â he asks. His hand gently swipes across your shoulders, collecting your hair and throwing it over your right shoulder.Â
âWho said you were terrifying?â you deflect.Â
His lips tighten in a smug manner before puckering into a kiss on your bare shoulder.
âMore terrifying than Baelor?â he asks further.Â
Your eyes lower from his in the mirror as you focus on your makeup.Â
âBaelor has never done anything to me. You and your father have hit meâ you remind him, âHe has given me no reason to fear himâ.Â
Another kiss is placed on your shoulder than a smaller one on the bottom of your neck.Â
âI knowâ Aerion submits, âI do wonder through what he would do to you if his honor didnât prohibit himâ.
His large hands go to your jaw, stilling you as he drags his lips across your skin.
âHe hides behind his duty but he is no better than me. No less possessive, or mad. If he had his way with you, I wonder what would be left?â
Aerions eyes meet yours once more in the mirror, âI guess weâll never knowâ.Â
He stands tall once more, using your shoulders as an aid to stand.Â
âLeave your hair down. I like it down. And donât paint your face with ridiculous colours like your sisterâ.
âShe paints her face to hide the bruises you give herâ, you snap at him.Â
âOhâ he mocks like he didnât already know. He picks up his pants from the floor and throws the rest of his clothes on as he speaks to you, âI should go your sister will be wondering where I am. I hate to worry herâ.Â
He comes back over to place a kiss on your forehead before he leaves.
You do leave your hair down, but reach for the red lipstick.
When you enter the dining room you see Baelor talking to a servant who seemed too eager to please. His eyes seem cold as they land on you. You had upset him this morning, you could tell by the way he ignored you.Â
He greeted Ashford and his children, engaging in pleasant small talk while he actively avoided looking at you.Â
Aerion stood with his father in the corner. Another lecture so early in the morning. Aerions eyes still as you enter, focusing on the red lipstick. His lips twitch and you worry that you have pleased him rather than irritated.Â
Vallar was already at the table. Speaking to no one but noticing everything. His eyes flicked around the room, calculating something in his head.Â
A servant rang the bell indicating the food was ready so the nobles could take their seats.Â
Aerion pulls out the seat to his left as he sits which you gather is meant for you. You take it having nowhere else to sit that would be appropriate.
 As you do, servants begin to plate the food in the middle of the table. Laying out rows of options. You look at it with wandering eyes. After last night you were very hungry.Â
Aerion dips his napkin into his cup of water, turning his attention to you, he holds the back of your head while he rubs the damp cloth against your lips. The turn of your head is met with a harsh tug of your hair. He throws the red stained napkin to the middle of the table where it is grabbed by a servant in exchange for food.Â
Aerion doesnât wait until all of the food is served, picking food off plates before they are set down.Â
To your misfortune, you chose to show so decorum, no matter how hungry you were, and waited until the head of the house announced breakfast was served.Â
You almost jumped when a servant placed a dish in front of you. Fruit. 2 slices of watermelon, a bunch of grapes. Some blueberries. 1 hard boiled egg with toast. A few slices of seasoned pork.Â
Your eyes flick to Baelor. You catch him in a brief stare before he pretends to be engaged in what Ashford has to say.Â
Aerion grins smugly at you, picking a grape from your plate and chewing it with a boyish smile.Â
He found the attention flattering. Revealed in the fact that the great kings hand wanted what he had. You found it all too much, and wished for nothing more than to put your sister on your back and take off.Â
Aerion me hand found your leg under the table, gripping your thigh as he made his plate. You think about disregarding yours and making another but Baelor scared you more than you could justify.Â
âShall we go out tonight?â Aerion asked you as you cracked open your egg.Â
Baelor ears perked up, you saw him lean closer to hear better.Â
âI have no interestâ you state, dropping your toast into your egg.Â
Aerion scoffs, withdrawing his hand from you.Â
âYou had interest plenty the other night. Perhaps you find common folk better company. Your small brain can comprehend their small topicsâ Aerion pressed, âdo you know what comprehend means?â
âNo, my lordâ you mock.Â
As if she could sense your failings, Leia bursts through the doors. Her eye was swollen shut and red. Big dark bruises litter her body. Her hair was unkept and she was only in her chamber robe.Â
âLedia!â You call.Â
You shoot up from your chair but Aerion is faster. Walking over to her in long quick strides.Â
âMy darling wife!â He addresses, pulling her into his arms and planting a deep kiss on her lips.Â
âTake her back upâ Mekar demands.Â
âItâs family breakfast. My wife is more family than Y/n isâ.Â
âWe have no need for such displaysâ Baelor demands with authority.Â
âIâll take her back upâ you challenge.Â
âYouâre hurting herâ Vallar spits, uneasing in his seat as if he could do something.Â
âOh am I?â He coons to your sister, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.Â
âLet me take her upâ, you ask.Â
âNonsense, she came for breakfast so letâs eatâ Aerion demanded. With a hold on her hand, he forced her forward back to his seat.Â
âYouâ she states in a broken voice, âI was looking for youâ
âI am hereâ you promise her. Lowering yourself back to your seat as Aerion pulls her into his lap.Â
âYou are toeing a thin line boyâ maekar warns.Â
âYou told me to be kinder to my poor wifeâ.
âI am not sure this would constitute as kindâ Baelor addressed.Â
âWhat do you think?â Aerion turns to you. You see how your sister shivers as his hand runs up her arm.Â
âYou are very kind, my prince. My sister and I are grateful for the kindness bestowed upon us by house Targaryenâ.Â
He grins at you once more before flicking to your sister.Â
âWife?â He asks.Â
âYesâ she shakes, âvery kindâ.Â
âThereâ Aerion exclaims, âno more talk of this nonsenseâ. He plucks some cheese off the display and pops it in his mouth as he speaks.Â
âIâll show you fucking nonsenseâ Maker threatens.Â
He goes to get up but his brother stops him.Â
âLet us not make a scene at a table that is not our ownâ he demands.Â
âBut fatherâ valarr pipes up.Â
âWe are guests in this house for a short period of time. Let us not disgrace ourselves any further. Lord Ashford, you must think us Neanderthalsâ.Â
âNo, your graceâ the lord refutes uncomfortably, âit is an honour for you to sit at our table. We wouldnât have it any other wayâ.Â
âSee?â Aerion pestered.Â
He picks up another cube of cheese bringing it up to your sisters lips.Â
âI donât want itâ she says in a soft, low voice.Â
âEat itâ he demands harshly. Her lips part slightly so he can slide it through.Â
Your hand goes to your knife, ready to wield it at any given second.Â
âWe were just discussing exploring the town tonightâ Aerion says to your sister, the corner of his eye nips at you, âYour sister is not interested. What about you? Would you like to come out with your husbandâ.
âShe cannot possiblyâ, you speak for her, âshe is too illâ.
âI was speaking to my wifeâ, Aerion snaps.Â
âNo, noâ your sister re-enforces in a soft voice.Â
âNo? Am I a beast? Do I bore you?â Aerion gasps.
âYou have your joust todayâ Meaker speaks up, âfocus on thatâ.Â
Aerion groans like a child, âanother silly knight I have to unhorse. Honestlyâ he states, taking another cube of cheese and placing it in his mouth, âI dont know what the point is any moreâ
âMaybe he will unhorse youâ Valarr provoked. His father called his name in a low warning which had Valarr sinking back into his seat.Â
Being challenged upset Aerion whos face became stone as he glared across the table.Â
âAny time you wish to joust against me, cousin I would be more than willing to obligeâ.
âAerionâ Maekar growls.
âOh, the boys are just excited about the tourneyâ Asford foolishly begins to talk, âA little friendly fireâ
Maekar scoffs openly at the lord. Baelor remains reserved behind a tight smile.Â
You see an opportunity to free yourself and your sister for the afternoon. While Aerion was jousting, and the princes front and center of the tourney, no one would be around to tell you what to do. You could escape back into town and enjoy the festivities. It would surely put your sister in a brighter mood.
âAny news on your boys, Prince Maekar?â, Lord Ashford asks.Â
âHmpâ Maekar returns, âI have half the king's guard searching for them now. Useless fucking bunchâ.Â
âThey will turn upâ Baelor promises.Â
Your sister suddenly squeals, jumping up from Aerion's lap. You mirror her, jumping to your feet with your knife in your hand.Â
âLeave herâ, you demand as Aerion rises to chase her.Â
He looked unbothered at your threat, almost bored.His tongue pokes against his lips and he makes no attempt to disarm you.Â
Maekar seemed more impacted from the scene, slamming his chair back to the ground as he pushed himself out of his chair.Â
âYou dare point a knife at my son?â Maekar demands.Â
Aerion looks at you in a disbelieving manner, as if it was a child with a wooden sword playing pretend.Â
âDo you know how to use that?â Aerion scoffs. He goes to take a step forward, ignoring you.
âAerion, I am serious donâtâ, you threaten.Â
âYouâre as harmless as a flowerâ Aerion mocks.Â
You do not realise that Baelor was behind you until you swung your arm back to take a lunge. Your wrist is caught and the knife is swiped from your hand, thrown back to the table. You struggle in his hold still trying to get to your sister as Aerion stalks towards her.Â
As he catches her between his arms, Baelor catches you.Â
âYou are so prettyâ Aerion coons, kissing your struggling sister in his arms.Â
âGet off herâ, you demand.Â
You think Maekar will tear the two apart but he crosses past them over to you in Baelors hold.Â
His hit is much stronger than that of his sons. The sting of his signet ring indenting your face.Â
âMaekarâ, his older brother scolds.Â
âYou point a weapon at my son again little girl and you will lose the offending handâ Marker threatens you.Â
âShe meant no harm,â Baelor defends.Â
âYes, I didâ, you spit.Â
âY/n, do not speakâ Baelor demands.Â
âYes she did!â Aerion agrees, holding your sister up by her arms, âShe beats me all the timeâ.Â
âQuiet, Boyâ Maekar orders.Â
Another squeal from Leia broke out into the room. You saw now the blood that soaked the back of her robe. He had dug his knife into her skin to elicit a response that would break your heart.Â
You scream at Aerion once more, bucking in Baelors hold.Â
âEnough, enoughâ Baelor whispers in your ear.Â
Already weakened, Ledia began to sob in loud, painful cries.Â
Vlarr rises at the sound, looking to his father to give the command to interfere. It is not given, rather an order to re-take his seat.Â
âHush now, belovedâ Aerion consoled your sister, âI cannot possibly continue breakfast, I must attend to my wifeâ.Â
âAreion dontâ, you beg, âPlease, I am sorry. Please-please-it wont happen againâ.Â
In bucking against Baelor, you brush against his hips slightly before he can pull away. He was hard at your begging. Like Aerion he enjoyed it too.Â
Areion shakes his head, âNo, I must fulfill my dutyâ.
âGo boyâ Maekar shouts at him, âtake her up the stairs. Out of my sightâ.Â
âLet me go with her. Please she needs meâ, you beg all three.Â
Your sister calls your name as if it didnt occur to her that you werenât coming.Â
âNoâ Aerion insists, âthis matter is between a husband and wife. Which you are neitherâ.Â
He shoves her towards the door, still eyeing you in Baelors hold. He was sure to punish your sister for this.Â
âNo,no, please let me go- Aerion!â you scream.Â
âYour behaviour this trip has been unsatisfactoryâ Maekar digs âReflecting poorly on our houseâ.Â
âI am sorry, my prince. It will improve. Only please stop himâ.
âYou shall not see your sister for the remainder of the trip. I will not have your bad habits rub off on my wifeâ Aerion calls as he pushes leia through the doors.
âIf I cannot see my sister I will leave!â you shout after him.Â
Maekar's next hit was more unexpected, knocking you from Baelors loosening hold and onto the floor.Â
âNever speak of leaving againâ Maekar tells you. Baelor makes no effort to help you in solidarity with his brother.Â
âI am a free woman,my lord,â you remind him.Â
âYou are a servant to the crownâ he spits, âwhile you have use to this household, you will stay in this household until otherwise directed. If I can keep one of my sons in line, you will not meddle with thatâ.Â
âI will tell my fatherâ, you announce.Â
âTell him what you fucking like but do not aggravate me furtherâ Meaker bristled.Â
âSer Pearsonâ Baelor called with a flick of his hand, "accompany Lady Y/n off the floor to her chambers. I fear we have pushed Lord Ashfords hospitality to its limitsâ.Â
âLord Baelorâ you cry from the floor as the knight moves to collect you.
âDo not look to me to defend youâ Baelor told you, âYou were completely out of line.Wielding a knife against a prince?â
âAgainst my sonâ Maekar corrects.Â
You are picked up from the floor by the large knight and led out of the room. You hear Valarr attempt to defend you but the Princes would hear no more.Â
No more food was brought to you the rest of the day. You were starving and so thirsty. You weren't sure which was worse.Â
You worried for your sister. It was worse not knowing what was happening to her. If it was up to you, you would sew your dresses together, and never part. But Prince Aerion used her as a weapon against you. Letting your mind wander to scary places.Â
With nothing to distract you, you laid in bed the whole day thinking about how he would hurt her for your disobedience.Â
When the door opened you expected Aerion or Baelor, not Maekar to enter.Â
It almost shocked you when his cool blue eyes settled on you, not leaving you as you rose from the bed to greet him. He lingered in front of the door with a plate of food in his hand as if he was waiting for an invite.Â
âMy lordâ, you address him in question.Â
He raises the plate of food in his hand, placing it on your vanity to his right.Â
âYou should know it wasnât me who requested nothing be brought to youâ, Maekar states.
Aerion , you think, no doubt.Â
âI didnât think so, my lordâ, you offered.Â
Maekar looked awkward in your chambers, glancing everywhere but at you.Â
âI know what my son is. What he is capable ofâ, he begins in a low voice, âI understand that he has not been partially kind to you or your sister. But you need to understand I have seen him a lot worse. You calm himâ.Â
Your hands rub along the bruises littered upon your arms from his touch.
âIt doesnât feel as if I calm himâ, you admit.Â
âYou wielded a knife against him. Do you think this is just punishment?â Maekar accuses.Â
âHe made my sister bleed. Tortures her for his own amusementâ, you shoot back.Â
The older man nods. His eyes again found their way around the room, before landing squarely on you.Â
âI donât agree with his treatment of his wife, but you are much to blame for her tortureâ.
Your heart shatters as he says it. Your darling sister in pain because of you? You couldnât hear it.Â
Seeing your inner thought run across your face, he clarifies his accusation.Â
âLast spring when you fell ill back at Summerhall, how many times do you think he struck her?â, Marker asks you.Â
âI donât know I was in bed and he wouldnât let me see herâ, you defend.Â
âNot onceâ, he answered, âYou were as meek as a lamb- he had no reason toâ.
âI was illâ, you reiterated.Â
âYou were behavedâ.
You think back. You were too Ill to fight him on anything. Too sick to say anything but please and thank you. But no, it wasnât enough. Aerion liked the fight. It is why he chose you over your sister. He wanted to break your spirit.Â
Your head shakes of its own accord. Â
âYesâ Maekar fought, âYou think he cut his own wife at the breakfast table for show? I saw you arguing with himâ.Â
âSo I should just submit then? Let him do whatever he pleases?â.
âHe is a princeâ.
âAnd I am human. My sister is a human, not a toy he can bash and abuse to get back at meâ.Â
âAerion is blood of the dragon. You and your sister are from a house that will blow away with the fucking dust. You are nothing. For your sisters sake fucking act like itâ, Maekar threatens.Â
You picture Aerion as Maekar storms away, slamming the door behind him. The same madness ran through all of them. You couldnât trust any one of them to save you.Â
Maekar locks the door again, leaving you with thoughts of your sister and the guilt that her misfortune is all your fault.Â
You don't eat. Even as the day turns pitch black. You have no stomach for anything but your own misery.Â
When the door opens again late into night fall, you donât know who to expect. You were almost glad when you saw Aerions signature red. At least you knew what to expect from him. With the older princes you never knew if they were your friends or your enemies. Aerions at least was always foe.Â
As he stepped into the light of the room, you saw his large gash on his lip and murder in his eyes.Â
âWhat happenedâ, you asked him, rising from the bed to get a better look.
âSome fucking hedge knightâ, Aerion spits.
No. It couldnât be. There were other hedge knights. You were sure. It couldnât be him. The odds were too small. It was only your sick fantasy.Â
âWhat hedge knight?â, you inquire.Â
He ignores you for a moment, going to sit at your vanity to assess the damage to his face. He looks at you angrily in the mirror's reflection before answering.Â
âWhat does it fucking matter?â he asks you, âHeâll be dead by morningâ.
To curry favour, you kneel down beside him, pressing your face against his arm as he wipes the blood from his lip away.Â
âWas this man big? Tall? He would have to be in order to top you?â
âHe didnât top meâ Aerion protests.Â
âNo, I mean. He had to get through your knights and do that to your face. He must have been a large manâ.Â
You wondered what could have spurred your gentle knight to this. What was Aerion doing? Something terrible no doubt and now Duncan was to die for it.Â
âHe was a fucking giantâ Aerion answers.Â
With your fear confirmed, you knew your giant was in grave danger and you had to save him. No court would rule against a prince. Even Baelor couldnât stop Aerion getting justice for his face. Your giant while large was no match for Aerions training and skill. Would someone else fight for him? Take his place against Aerion? Could you?
âWhat do you plan to do to him?â you gauge.Â
âI am going to knock out all of his teeth, and then flay him for all to seeâ.
âThe court will allow that?â.Â
âThe court will allow what I tell them tooâ, Aerion snapped, throwing his handkerchief down.Â
âWhat about a trial of seven?â. You remembered it from one of Baelors books. A way out surely. Ducan could find good men to fight alongside him. He was good. People would rise up.Â
âA trial of what?â, he spat.Â
âOf sevenâ, you repeat, âseven knights against seven knights. A way to honor the Gods. It was thought that the Gods being so honored would ensure the right party wonâ, your hand reaches up to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, âYou could show everybody that the Gods are on your sideâ.
His eyebrows raised in rejection but you could see on his face that the idea intrigued him.Â
âAerion Brightflame, winner of the first trial of seven in nearly a thousand years. Now that would be a name day eventâ.Â
âYou hate violence" he reminds you.Â
âI doâ you agree, âBut this isnât violence. Itâs justiceâ.Â
Your spare hand goes to his lip, gently running your finger across the cut. He looks at you as if you were mad, grabbing your offending wrist in a painful hold.Â
âGo lie on the bedâ, he commands you.Â
You rise from your knees quickly to follow order, and he rises to follow you.
"this fic uses em dashes, so it must be ai-generated" real humans use em dashes.
"this fic has long paragraphs with overly described details and scenes, so it must be ai-generated" real humans can write like this.
"this fic has inconsistencies, so it must be ai-generated" real humans make errors and mistakes. that's why we have this thing called plot holes. sometimes writers are tired and they don't remember what they wrote in the last sentences or paragraphs, let alone chapters.
"this fic sounds robotic and unnatural, so it must be ai-generated" not every writer writes in their native language. sometimes they can sound 'robotic and unnatural' if they wrote in their second or third or fourth language (and kudos to them).
"this fic has a prompt left in it that the author forgot to delete, so it must be ai-generated" the 'prompt' the author accidentally left in their fic could actually be a part of an outline that was meant only for them, so they could keep track of what they would write.
"this author posts too often, no human writes this fast, so they must use ai" 1.) you don't know how fast someone can or can't write, how much time a person has in a day or how motivated/skilled they are. 2.) the frequent updates you see could be something that has already been finished and sitting in the author's drafts for god knows how long. just because it's recently posted doesn't always mean it's recently written.
my point? no, you can never know if a fanfic is 'ai-generated'. unless the author says they use ai, you're just assuming, suspecting and witch hunting. chances are that you're not going to 'stop ai fics from being created', you're just going to wrongly accuse genuine writers of using ai and ruin their day at best, make them want to quit writing or sharing their works at worst.
Found some writing inspiration and began working on the last part of my Bridgerton fic, The Mouthy One. Itâs pretty long everything I have planned for it but I have started it which is progress if anyoneâs waiting on that đEven if not it feels good to write again.
I just read all of the Hunger Games Books for the first time, having already watched all the movies. Hereâs my thoughts?âŠ
1. SOTR is the most depressing, Iâm unpacking it in therapy.
2. TBOSAS. The movie is not glamorizing Snow weâre viewing him the same way people around him do. Whereas the books we have his inner monologue and know exactly who he is.
3. Beetee. I might cry every time I think about his son.
LMAO sometimes I forget that tone is hard to read over text and that my humor is not always so easily read. I fear I upset someone in the comment section under a ficđđđ oops
And I need to stop leading texts with boođđđ
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