Sweet Scarlett Angel

Author | Early 20s | Find me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same name | Masterlist

[sweetscarlettangel]

ok so the last month has been very stressful for me me and I think between yesterday and today I’m kind of done. I just basically unpublished one of my fics and I’ll slow down the updates for my other fics except FiE since that’s where most of my muse is right now.

Between the negativity I’ve been facing on this site, a lot of stuff in my own life and the lack of interaction on the websites where I post (mainly one if I’m honest) I don’t know how much sense it makes for me to keep posting, especially in one fandom where things have gotten toxic for me.

Maybe I’ll edit that fic and repost it, maybe I won’t. Right now I’ll focus on ASOIAF and try to get to episode 1 in FiE by the end of the year and hopefully finish Act 3 in Scars of Fire by that point as well.

[sweetscarlettangel]

Chain Reaction XI

She looked at her son and understood several things immediately, the way you understood things about people you had known their whole lives. He was tired. He was guarded in the particular way he'd been guarded since they buried Margery, that careful inward quality that meant he was managing something he hadn't decided how to talk about yet. And he was not looking at the wheelhouse.

That last thing was its own piece of information.

[sweetscarlettangel]

ok so I ended up in a teeny tiny car crash today. Luckily, no one was hurt. But I stress out easily and rn I'm also very emotional. I'll try to divert this into writing a lot so I don't get stir crazy so be on the lookout for unedited updates shortly!

[sweetscarlettangel]

we'll be a fine line XXV

Then he looks at Violet.

"What happened out there?" His voice is tight with something that's actually genuine fear, which is one of the things about Dain I genuinely can't fully dislike no matter how much I'd like to — the caring underneath it is real, it's just very specifically, narrowly directed. He has tunnel vision, and more often than not it's centered entirely on Violet, which means the rest of us just become collateral. "I've got Cath telling me not only did Tairn choose you but so did the small one too — Adarn?"

[sweetscarlettangel]

Scars of Fire VI

"We have a family dinner," Aurelia says. She tilts her head slightly, which gives him better access, which rather undermines the point she is trying to make.

"We'll make it."

"Daemon—"

"I haven't seen you properly since this morning." He turns her in his arms and she lets herself be turned, and he looks at her in the black silk and the firelight and the deep neckline and wants her with a specific focused intensity that three years of marriage has not diminished even slightly. "Half an hour."

She looks up at him with those dark eyes that have always seen more of him than is comfortable, and opens her mouth to say something sensible, and then he kisses her, and whatever sensible thing she was about to say does not get said.

[sweetscarlettangel]

250 likes! Thank you all so much!

[sweetscarlettangel]

Forged in Embers IV

She takes him in before she has decided whether to look. Valyrian blonde, Targaryen eyes, standing with the ease of someone who finds the whole apparatus of formal reception faintly beneath him and has chosen to attend anyway. She gets to him in her sweep of the line and stops.

Not long. A breath, maybe two. He is watching her with the directness of someone who doesn't bother pretending otherwise and she does not look away the way people usually do when they find him watching and he does not look away either. Something moves through her chest — not the cold drop from before, something different, something she has no name for yet.

[sweetscarlettangel]

we'll be a fine line XXIV

That's when I see Fara.

She's standing at the western edge of the clearing, half-emerged from the treeline. I know her the way I know most things about my family — through absence as much as presence. Saoirse's Fara. Ready to bond again for the first time since my sister died.

She's looking at me.

I don't let myself think. I just walk toward her, and she lets me approach, and when I stop a few feet away and we look at each other, my throat closes around something I have no intention of saying out loud.

I know what I was hoping. I know what I've been hoping since the day they announced Threshing, since Kaori showed her to us in Dragonkind.

[sweetscarlettangel]

we'll be a fine line snippet

Violet didn't explain it.

She was already watching Xaden.

He was on his feet before the sound of the latch had fully faded, his jaw set, his eyes on the door with the specific quality of someone who has made a decision and is moving toward it before they've finished making it.

Violet stepped into his path.

He looked down at her. The careful control was completely gone from his face — she'd genuinely never seen that look on him before, not once, not in all the months of watching him from across rooms and flight fields — and it meant, very clearly, that he was about to do something that would make absolutely everything worse than it already was.

"Let her go," she said quietly. "It's not my story to tell."

[sweetscarlettangel]

Chain Reaction Snippet!

"I don't know that I have a better answer than that I wanted to see how you were." A pause. "That's not nothing, is it? Wanting to know."

"No," she said, surprised to find she meant it. "It isn’t."

He reached over and rested his hand, briefly, on the curve of her stomach — not asking permission, but not presuming either, the way he'd started doing in the last month as the baby had grown large enough to be felt easily. The babe shifted under his palm, a slow roll rather than a kick, and his mouth curved, just slightly, at the corners.

"Strong," he said. "Whoever this is."

"You say that as though you've already decided he's a boy."

Something flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Have I?"

[sweetscarlettangel]

Forged in Embers snippet!

Laelya sits on the grass in the sun with her daughters and Laena Velaryon and the little Princess and Daemon Targaryen, who has nowhere else to be and is not pretending otherwise.

It is not that she finds him interesting.

It is that she has been trying not to find him interesting for a week and it is becoming more work than it should be, and she is seventeen years old and she has buried a husband and delivered two children and managed a castle and she knows what trouble looks like when it sits down on the grass across from her and accepts architectural corrections from a one-year-old without losing its dignity.

She knows what trouble looks like.

She is beginning to suspect that knowing and managing are not the same thing.

[sweetscarlettangel]

Scars of Fire snippet!

"...You were raised to be useful and quiet and good, Alicent, the same as I was, the same as every girl raised in a household that needed her for a marriage and not much else. But you are not merely useful now. You are a queen who has decided to make war on her own stepdaughter in front of half the realm's great houses, and a woman who cannot command a room while doing so will find the room commanding her instead."

"I did not decide to make war on anyone." It came out sharper than Alicent intended, and Lynesse's eyebrow rose a fraction, unimpressed.

"Then you chose an unfortunate dress to wear while not deciding it."

[remusjohnslupin]

♦ WINTER OF THE WIDOWS: So many lords, both great and small, had perished during the Dance of the Dragons that the Citadel rightly names this time the Winter of the Widows. Never before or since in the history of the Seven Kingdoms have so many women wielded so much power, ruling in the place of their slain husbands, brothers, and fathers, for sons in swaddling clothes or still on the teat. Many of their stories have been collected in Archmaester Abelon’s mammoth When Women Ruled: Ladies of the Aftermath.

[sweetscarlettangel]

So excited to explore this period!

[sweetscarlettangel]

we'll be a fine line snippet!

"Severn," his voice comes out rough. He exhales once, sharp, like something releasing. "You damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Xaden," I croak.

He reaches for the cup on the bedside table — ice chips, mostly melted by now — drops a straw into it, and holds it to my lips without even asking first. I drink it down greedily. It isn't cold anymore at all, but I genuinely don't care.

I drop my head back against the pillow.

[sweetscarlettangel]

Chain Reaction snippet!

She gathered the reins. The mare moved under her, familiar and easy, and Elanya's body remembered what to do with a horse the way it remembered things it had learned young — not in the mind but in the muscle, automatic and certain. Her seat found the rhythm. Her hands softened. She breathed.

Then the nausea arrived.

Low and persistent, settling into her stomach as the mare walked forward, not sharp enough to be alarming but present in a way that didn't feel like anything she could name cleanly. Not hunger. Not motion sickness, or not only that. Something else underneath it, something that sat differently than the ordinary discomforts of five weeks on the road.

She kept her face composed. She kept her hands easy on the reins. She did not look at Devan, who had fallen in beside her, and she did not look back at the wheelhouse, where she could feel Kenna watching through the curtain.

Twenty-nine days in a wheelhouse, she thought again.

The thought had less certainty in it than the first time.

[7pleiades7]

Femme a la bougie (also known as Young Girl with a Candle and Off to Bed), (Detail), (1887), by Léon François Comerre (French, 1850 – 1916), signed 'Léon Comerre' (lower left), oil on canvas, 31 x 23 3/4 in (79 x 60 cm), Private Collection

[sweetscarlettangel]

This is so Laelya coded… just wait

[sweetscarlettangel]

Forged in Embers snippet!

"That gap — between what they think they see and what is actually there — is the most useful thing you will ever own."

"Useful," Laelya says. She is trying to understand this. She is not certain she is succeeding.

"Yes," Viserra ties off the first braid. Starts the second. "Your aunt Saera had the same gift. More of it, perhaps. She was extraordinary." Her hands slow for just a moment. Something crosses her face in the mirror — not grief exactly, and not only pride either. The look of a woman who spent years being angry at someone she loved and never quite finished either the anger or the love.